Alaska Sporting Journal - June 2021 by Media Index Publishing Group

FISHING • HUNTING • ADVENTURE

AKSPORTINGJOURNAL.COM

Volume 13 • Issue 1 www.aksportingjournal.com PUBLISHER James R. Baker

INFORMATION SERVICES MANAGER Lois Sanborn

GENERAL MANAGER John Rusnak

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EXECUTIVE EDITOR Andy Walgamott EDITOR Chris Cocoles WRITERS Landon Albertson, Paul D. Atkins, Bjorn Dihle, Tony Ensalaco, Scott Haugen, Tiffany Haugen, Mary Catharine Martin SALES MANAGER Paul Yarnold ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES Mamie Griffin, Jim Klark, Mike Smith DESIGNER Lesley-Anne Slisko-Cooper PRODUCTION ASSISTANT Kelly Baker, Malena Kennedy WEB DEVELOPMENT/INBOUND MARKETING Jon Hines, Jon Eske

MEDIA INDEX PUBLISHING GROUP 14240 Interurban Ave South • Suite 190 Tukwila, WA 98168 (206) 382-9220 • Fax (206) 382-9437 media@media-inc.com • www.media-inc.com CORRESPONDENCE Twitter @AKSportJourn Facebook.com/alaskasportingjournal Email ccocoles@media-inc.com ON THE COVER As Tiffany Haugen displays, king salmon fishing is on the docket for Alaska anglers starting this month. Fishing with wrapped egg setups is a great method for anglers to catch Chinook limits on Last Frontier rivers in early summer. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT Katie Aumann

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CONTENTS

VOLUME 11 • ISSUE 1

JUST LIKE DAD

As we prepare to celebrate Father’s Day on June 20, take a nostalgic trip down memory lane with Landon Albertson and his sons, Leo and Caleb. Landon, who recalled his own childhood hunts with his dad in Oregon, experienced his father’s dream when Leo, 13, and Caleb, 10, joined him on an Alaskan caribou hunt that none of them will ever forget, especially Leo, who harvested his first bull.

(LANDON ALBERTSON)

FEATURES 13

AND THAT’S A WRAP! Scott Haugen is the author of Egg Cures: Proven Recipes & Techniques and he knows a thing or two about how to present these tasty morsels that kings and coho can’t resist. His salmon fishing tutorial continues this month with a lesson on wrapping cured eggs for drift fishing, back-bouncing or plugging with them. And Tiffany Haugen rounds out the duo’s popular From Field to Fire column with a recipe that will work for whatever you catch this summer.

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN Longtime fishing and hunting collaborators Paul Atkins and Lew Pagel have shared plenty of adventures in Alaska’s vast wilderness. But since Pagel relocated from the guys’ Kotzebue hometown, they hadn’t seen each other for a while. That changed when Pagel and Atkins reunited, along with two new friends and Atkins’ son Eli, for a memorable ice fishing trip for sheefish in the Arctic. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE

SEEING THE FOREST FOR THE TREES For 44 years, John Schoen has been crisscrossing Southeast Alaska’s forests and mountaintops studying big game and analyzing the value of critical habitat in and around the Tongass National Forest. Schoen discusses the importance of old-growth forest to the wildlife that lives there, including blacktail deer, an important hunted species. Mary Catharine Martin profiles this influential biologist and author.

9 11 33 62

The Editor’s Note: Romania’s bear controversy Outdoor calendar Karma bites: An angler’s on-the-water observations The Pride of Bristol Bay: The life and times of Grizzly Safaris’ Jerry Jacques

Alaska Sporting Journal is published monthly. Call Media Inc. Publishing Group for a current rate card. Discounts for frequency advertising. All submitted materials become the property of Media Inc. Publishing Group and will not be returned. Annual subscriptions are $29.95 (12 issues) or $49.95 (24 issues). Send check or money order to Media Inc. Publishing Group, 14240 Interurban Ave South, Suite 190, Tukwila, WA 98168 or call (206) 382-9220 with VISA or M/C. Back issues may be ordered at Media Inc. Publishing Group, subject to availability, at the cost of $5 plus shipping. Copyright © 2021 Media Inc. Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording by any information storage or retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher. Printed in U.S.A. 6

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EDITOR’S NOTE

f you’re a regular encased in Alaska’s outdoors lifestyle, you’re going to be interested in all things bears, Last Frontier-related or not. So when I stumbled onto a story about a controversial bear death in Romania, I was as intrigued about the subject matter as I was the location. In October 2016, I spent about 10 days in Southeastern Europe’s Romania, a place I knew very little about save for what I’d read in guidebooks to prepare for the trip. But on our first day, my buddy and I enjoyed an outdoor beer at a pub in the capital city of Bucharest. Our Romanian draft was named Ursus and the glass, of course, featured a regal bruin logo. Drinking an Ursus-brand I’d later find out that beer in the Romanian capital Romania, probably known of Bucharest tipped the more for champion gymnasts, editor to how bears are a big part of the country’s the mythical origins of Count identity during a trip there. Dracula and being a former (CHRIS COCOLES) Iron Curtain republic that gained independence when the Soviet Union fell apart starting in the late 1980s, is the brown bear capital of the European Union. The ursine population is the EU’s highest (an estimated 6,000 to 7,000, per The New York Times). So when a beloved bear – with a name and everything – is shot by a foreign royal family member under mysterious circumstances, it’s bound to create headlines. According to the same Times piece, Prince Emanuel von und zu Liechtenstein, of the tiny principality in Central Europe, essentially was granted a depredation permit to kill a female bear said to have been causing problems for farmers in the Carpathian Mountains. Instead, the prince shot and killed a 17-year-old brown bear named Arthur, believed to be the largest such living animal in the country and the European Union. The prince’s actions have met the expected outrage and could eventually be deemed anything from inhumane to poaching (trophy hunting has been banned in Romania since 2016). We all know that bears are an integral part of the Alaskan culture, as is hunting them for conservation and even for sport. But imagine the news cycle if an American politician made a similar mistake as the member of Liechtenstein’s royal family. The media, regardless of political views, would be in a frenzy covering the story. So I know I’ll keep following this event to see where it leads. Royal family members embroiled in a scandal like this one can’t fly under the radar. Romania and its people really endeared themselves to me when I visited. I never expected the nation to be a major wine producer. Vlad the Impaler, Bram Stoker’s inspiration for his fabled Count Dracula, had very little connection to Transylvania’s Bran Castle (aka, what outsiders call “Dracula’s Castle”). And, from the simple act of ordering a local beer, I found out that, like Alaska, the bear is a key symbol of Romania’s identity. -Chris Cocoles aksportingjournal.com | JUNE 2021

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OUTDOOR CALENDAR* June 4-5

Homer Halibut Derby (homeralaska.org/ homer-halibut-tournament)

June 5-14 Valdez Halibut Hullabaloo (valdezfishderbies.com) June 11-20 Slam’n Salm’n Derby, Ship Creek, Anchorage (slamnsalmnderby.com) June 15 Brown bear hunting season ends in several units June 30 Black bear hunting season ends in several units June Brownspring bear brown hunting season ends in several units Many30 of Alaska’s bear 30 hunts end June Lastthis daymonth, 2020-21 hunting regulations are valid with7some seasons upRace, Seward July Mount finishing Marathon on June 15 and others on June (mountmarathon.com) 30. (LISA HUPP/USFWS) July 24 Start of Valdez Silver Salmon Derby (valdezfishderbies.com/silver-derby) July 24 Valdez Kids Pink Salmon Derby (valdezfishderbies.com/kids-derby) Aug. 13-Sept. 5 Valdez Tagged Fish Contest (valdezfishderbies.com/tagged-fish-contest) Aug. 14 Valdez Women’s Silver Salmon Derby (valdezfishderbies.com/womens-derby) Note: COVID-19 restrictions were easing at press time, but always confirm events before attending.

Many of Alaska’s spring brown bear hunts end this month, with some seasons finishing up on June 15 and others on June 30.

(LISA HUPP/USFWS)

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FIELD

KEEP YOUR SUNNY SIDE UP HOW TO WRAP CURED EGGS INTO CLUSTERS OR ONTO PLUGS FOR SALMON FISHING BY SCOTT HAUGEN n last month’s column I shared the many different ways to fish for king salmon on Alaska’s Nushagak River. In that piece, I touched on wrapping and fishing with cured eggs. This month’s continuation of that theme takes a closer look at how to wrap and fish cured salmon eggs. These applications work on king salmon and coho and can be fished just about anywhere in Alaska when and where bait is legal.

EGG CLUSTER WRAPS

“If you’re fishing cured salmon eggs with big, well-developed berries, wrapping them really helps,” says my longtime buddy Austin Moser, noted guide (austinsnorthwestadventures.com) and one of the best fishermen I’ve met. “Not only does it tighten them up so they hold together longer, but if you’re getting low on eggs or fishing heavy water that can be hard on eggs, wrapping them will extend their longevity.” “I’ll usually wrap a couple dozen eggs the night before I go fishing so I don’t have to do it on the river,” Austin continues. “Once you do it a few times, it goes pretty quick.” He begins by taking a chunk of eggs, about half the size of the palm of his hand. He places the eggs skein side up in his hand and then folds the skein on itself so the actual skein is on the inside, the loose

Wrapping plugs with cured eggs is a great way to deliver scent and color to fish. Make sure the eggs are wrapped tight to the plug so the action is not compromised. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

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FIELD

C t

As fishing season heats up in Alaska this summer, there are plenty of options for cooking up your catch, including this Tiffany Haugen recipe that features fried rice. (TIFFANY HAUGEN)

YUM! FISHING SEASON IS HERE BY TIFFANY HAUGEN

t’s great to see so many people taking advantage of Alaska’s abundant fishing opportunities this time of year. The sockeye are running, kings are coming in and trout are trending! There are also loads of bottomfish to be had, not to mention grayling, char, sheefish and pike. Because the fish we pursue can vary in size, having a few ideas about how you

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want to cook them up before you even hit the water is a good idea. If a batch of small trout make it home, they may be ideal to stuff and toss on the grill and give everyone a whole fish for dinner. If you bring home salmon, maybe fillet them and make four to six servings per fillet. If the fish you brought back have many sizes, try baking, smoking or grilling them, then flaking the cooked meat into dips, salads or chowder. This recipe is perfect over a spicy batch of fried rice and works with a range of fish. 1 tablespoon coconut oil 2 teaspoons minced ginger 2 teaspoons minced garlic 2 tablespoons chopped chives or green onion ½ teaspoon red chili flakes 1 tablespoon sesame oil 1 tablespoon soy sauce Fillet fish into serving sizes and remove pin bones, then pat fish dry with a paper

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towel. In a large skillet, heat coconut oil on medium-high heat. Sauté ginger, garlic, chives or green onion and red chili flakes for about two minutes. Add sesame oil and soy sauce to the skillet and lay the fish skin side up on the ginger mixture. Cook fish three minutes and gently flip, skin side down. Cook three to five more minutes or until the fish reaches desired doneness. (Remember, thicker fillets will take longer to cook.) Serve over fried rice and garnish with additional chives or green onions. Editor’s note: For signed copies of Tiffany’s popular book Cooking Seafood and other bestselling titles, visit tiffanyhaugen.com.

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FIELD

Author Scott Haugen wrote his best-selling book Egg Cures: Proven Recipes & Techniques back in 2002 – and what he would have given to know about fishing egg wraps back then! He’s caught a lot of salmon throughout Alaska over the past 30 years, including this hefty king on the Nushagak. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

eggs on the outside. “Doing it this way allows the thread to get between all the berries and hold tight to the skein,” he says. “When you’re done, it looks a lot like fake rubber eggs, as all you see are the berries sticking up, and that’s exactly what you want.” Using a stretchy, bait-wrapping thread that sticks to itself, Austin starts wrapping the eggs. Rotating the eggs in his hand, he continues wrapping as he goes, letting the thread pass between as many eggs as possible and securing the skein to itself. Austin runs about three dozen wraps around each egg cluster. This creates a firm, great-looking bait that holds up well in heavy, fast-moving water. At the end of each egg wrap, Austin pulls the Miracle Thread tight and breaks it. Because it adheres to itself and since 16

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there are so many wraps around the egg, the thread holds in place very well. From there, the cluster can be threaded onto a hook, then snuggled into an egg loop and fished.

EGG WRAP BENEFITS

Another bonus of a tightly wrapped egg cluster is that trout and other fish can’t pick it apart so quickly. While trout and smaller fish can pluck eggs to pieces when you’re plunking, back-bouncing, drift fishing or fishing them beneath a float, that simply doesn’t happen as quickly with a wrapped egg. This is because the individual berries are held tight to the skein, which doesn’t get strung out from the constant tugging and pulling. One thing I quickly noticed while backbouncing soft eggs was that they retained

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their color much longer than eggs fished loose, or unwrapped. This is because the actual skein is wrapped tightly upon itself so it doesn’t string out and lose color so fast – what’s called milking out. While individual berries will slowly fall away, the skein remains largely intact, so the color stays in the tissues longer. When drift fishing for salmon in shallow and fast-flowing rivers, I was impressed with how well wrapped eggs held up. Not only did the clusters stay on longer than unwrapped baits, they also held their color longer.

EGG-WRAPPED PLUGS

For plug fishing fans, plugs can even be wrapped with eggs. This is something I’ve always wanted to try and finally did with Austin. I’ve caught salmon on plugs

FIELD

Guide Austin Moser isn’t afraid to try new things when it comes to salmon fishing, especially where eggs are involved. He’s pumped with this nice king, taken on the Nushagak River. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

wrapped with an array of baitfish, bacon, tuna chunks, crawdad tails and sand shrimp, but not eggs. The first time Austin tied up a plug with eggs, we fished it over 20 minutes before reeling it in and checking it. Expecting to see the eggs completely gone, we were both shocked when the plug came to the boat with glowing red eggs intact. We checked the plug for tuning and put it right back out. Three minutes later we were admiring a 25-pound king that fell for the presentation. Experimenting more with eggwrapped plugs over a week of fishing together on the Nushagak River, Austin and I found larger plugs allowed larger eggs to be wrapped on them without compromising the plug’s action. We tried wrapping cured eggs directly to the plug, as well as wrapping prewrapped eggs on to the plug. The 18

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loose egg cluster worked best, as the bait can securely be wrapped tight to the plug. The prewrapped eggs were too rigid and pushed out too far away from the plug, which impacted its running. Just as you’d wrap a chunk of herring or a pinch of tuna onto the belly of a plug, do the same with eggs. Place the eggs on the belly of the plug and wrap it several times. If the eggs start to slide off to the side of the plug, center them and keep wrapping, ensuring that they keep snug and as close to the center of the plug as possible. Be careful not to wrap the eggs too far down the plug, as this can change the action of some plugs. Should there be any individual eggs or parts of the skein hanging over the edge of the plug when done wrapping, trim it away with scissors. This will create a streamlined wrap that will allow the plug to run true.

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When wrapping eggs in their own clusters or on plugs, cure them up as you normally would. Don’t forget to add scents of choice. Should eggs begin to come apart on the plug or in the wrapped cluster, trim away the loose parts and keep fishing, or replace if they’re too tattered. Remember that eggs are an ideal natural bait to deliver both visual and olfactory attractors that entice salmon into biting. The more ways these baits can be presented, the better the chances of catching salmon, especially if it’s something that pressured fish may not have seen before. ASJ Editor’s note: For signed copies of Scott Haugen’s best-selling book Egg Cures: Proven Recipes & Techniques, visit scotthaugen.com. Follow Scott on Instagram and Facebook.

Author Paul Atkins calls this moment one of the Arctic’s most incredible sights. “You hook a fish and as you reel him up, you don’t really know what you have until you see that head pop up through the slush,” he says of catching sheefish in late spring. (LEW PAGEL)

REUNION ON ICE TWO LONGTIME BUDDIES GET OUT FOR LATE-SEASON ARCTIC SHEEFISH TRIP BY PAUL D. ATKINS

ur normal year has been anything but normal and I miss it more than you know. The long days of spring – filled with bear hunts, and chances at caribou – have passed us. And even though lives change all the time, these have been tough times. I had not seen my good friend and longtime hunting/fishing partner Lew in some time, and it has been depressing. If you remember, Lew moved away (Alaska

Sporting Journal, March 2020), and during the pandemic I’ve been stuck here with nothing really to do and no one to do it with. I could have gone out, but it’s just not the same. It’s not Lew’s fault or mine; it’s just the way our world is now. But there’s always hope and when Lew told me a few weeks earlier that he was coming up from Valdez for a little spring fishing, a bright spot appeared on the horizon and I had to smile. I was

excited – not only to see my old friend but also about what was to come. It was an activity that we’ve done together many times in the past: sheefishing.

TARPON OF THE NORTH

If you haven’t read my tales in this publication about the fish sometimes known as the “tarpon of the north,” sheefish, or Inconnu, can be found only in the Arctic and sub-Arctic areas of

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Alaska. They are silver in color with a darker bluish sheen along the top of their back. They also get big. Lew and I have caught many over the years and cherished our experiences on the water. The fish remind me of the big striped bass we used to catch in the big lakes back in Oklahoma and Arkansas when I was a kid. But here in Northwest Alaska, sheefish are most commonly found in the Selawik and Kobuk River drainages of Kotzebue Sound. These fish can grow up to 50 pounds and they are commonly found in the deep, cold water where the current is the swiftest. Their tremendous size and eating qualities are amazing, making

them one of the most unique fish in North America.

HOW TO CATCH SHEEFISH When it comes to ice fishing for these monsters it’s always been a pretty simple process. You first must find where the current is leaving one of the river channels and cut your holes. Unless you’re lucky enough to find a hole that has already been cut/fished, then this will be the toughest part. The ice gets pretty thick during the winter months in and around Kotzebue Sound (it was only just breaking up in May) – as much as 6 feet in some places, but usually between 4 and 5 feet. Most people will usually

The promise of a new day always brings on anticipation of what’s to come. When the rods and reels are uncased and brought to the hole, you pray for action. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

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start in one place, cut holes, fish it and then move on to another. It has been my experience that sheefish will move after a few days and, lucky for us, they usually head closer to town. For digging holes, you will need to have an ice auger. For many years we used a hand-held, hand-operated auger. If it wasn’t for the promise of catching a big fish, I would have chosen to do something else. It was hard work; getting through all that ice was a back-breaking affair. Propane and even gas-operated augers, such as those made by Jiffy and the Eskimo brand, make drilling through ice easy and will have you fishing in a matter of minutes. Most augers come

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with extensions for the really thick stuff and can cut either 8- or 10-inch diameter holes. I prefer the 10-inch model, which will allow a little more room for the big boys that don’t watch their waistline. Lew and I have actually hooked fish that would not come through the hole. The only solution was to wait and let them breathe and when they do, pull a little at a time. Eventually, but not always, they’ll pull through. A bigger hole allows for a bigger fish!

GEAR CHOICES For many years I used a niksik – the Inuit word for fishing jig – to catch sheefish. It’s a simple tool, most commonly made out of a willow branch that has a slight half-moon shape. I’ve also seen them made out of a caribou horn or moose rib, and some are as simple as a small board with a hole drilled through the end. The line is attached to one end with a strong knot, and that line needs to be tough. I

use Dacron string; it’s braided and comes in 50-pound test. It’s a good thing it is tough to break, because there’s nothing worse than getting a big boy to the top of the hole, only to have him break the line and slide away. But these days Lew and I have started using rods and reels. A spinning reel loaded with heavy-duty line and paired with a tough Two River rod gives hooking a giant sheefish a whole new meaning. You can feel the fight and it’s actually fun to reel them in! However, whether fishing with a niksik or rod, the amount of line needed depends on the depth you will be fishing. I usually attach 20 to 22 feet but don’t fish more than 15 feet, depending on water depth. The area in and near Kotzebue Sound is quite shallow in places and the amount of line you use will vary. My technique is to let the line out until it hits the ocean floor and then come up 3 to 4 feet from the bottom. Sheefish like the deep part

There is nothing like pulling a fish from the ice in the early morning sun, especially if it’s a clear day, with bright blue skies and no wind. “Our new friend Shawn pulled fish after fish and was amazed each time,” Atkins says. (LEW PAGEL)

Sheefish are partial to herring and tomcod, and are attracted by brightly colored lures. (LEW PAGEL)

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of the water where the current will carry your lure.

WHAT SHEEFISH BITE ON

Sheefish are said to eat about anything and can open their mouths the same diameter as their body. They feed on herring and tomcod, and are attracted to bright colors. As far as lures go, anglers can be pretty superstitious. Many say silver or gold colors are best. I once had a blue one that was lucky for about seven trips out until I lost it. That was a sad day. Some people use imitation fish lures and some even use live bait. My advice is to try a lure and if it doesn’t work, then trade it in. If that one doesn’t work, the fish are probably not biting anyway.

A sheefish with a waistline like this is considered a monster, and especially if it’s over 40 inches long. This was Lew Pagel’s big catch of the day. “Even if it was only for a few days it was great to see my old friend, go fishing and have a great time,” Atkins says. (LEW PAGEL)

BREAK THE ICE

Like most ice fishing, it’s pretty simple: Simply auger out a hole, dip out the excess ice and then drop your lure in. A simple jerk with an up-and-down motion is all it takes. These fish will hit, instantly the line will get tight, and you’re set. You then pull up the line and expect a fight of lifetime. But not so much. With a little muscle they will come up and out of the salty slush with ease. It’s actually an amazing sight to watch a fish 3 feet long get pulled up through the ice.

THE FISHING BEGINS

Lew arrived as planned; so did a couple of guys who had never experienced the thrill of pulling big fish out of the ice. A few months before – more like a year 26

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ago – Lew and I had donated a fishing trip to Ducks Unlimited and sold it as a donation to their worthy cause. Our partners that day, Shawn and Kyle, are both Alaskans and avid fishermen who’ve fished the world for a variety of species, but never sheefish. They were in for an experience of a lifetime. Unlike the previous two years, when finding fish was tough, our first day out proved to be a winner. It was nonstop action for hours, it seemed – so much so that at one point we had so many fish that we actually had to release more than we caught. It was one of those legendary afternoons when you’re in the right spot at the right time. What was even more exciting was watching two guys who had never done this before pull behemoth after behemoth from the cold slush and

wrestle them to the pack ice. They were like kids in a candy store, and it was only the first day. The second day proved the same and when we were done, they had a supply of fish to last several years – or at least several cookouts, if they wanted. So did Lew and I. Lew proved himself again as well, pulling a monster from the ice that might be the new world record. Lew holds the record with a fish he caught a few years ago, but this guy was even bigger: 44 inches long, a 24-inch girth and weighing 40 pounds. It was incredible.

FAMILY AFFAIR Our last day on the water was not as good, though we were out in force. I brought my son Eli along to see if he could hook a few as well.

Atkins’ son Eli came along on the last day, but like the rest of the group he didn’t catch any sheefish. He did, however, set the record for catching tomcod. The final count was established as 36. (LEW PAGEL)

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We fished hard all day and even entered the sheefish derby, which was being held for the first time in a long time that day. In years’ past the local Lions Club and the Northwest Arctic Borough held a derby, and this year they decided to continue the tradition again with some fabulous prizes. The fish weren’t having any of it, though, and like many, we went home empty-handed. We had a great time, though, made new friends and I got to see an old one. But when it was time for Lew to pack up and head back south, it was bittersweet. It was fun, though, and it reminded me of past years when we would be out there every day trying to find a big sheefish, or at least a spot where we could pull up a few of the tarpon of the north to take home. I cherish those days and will miss them.

Atkins says a good day of ice fishing is better than, well, anything! He and Pagel’s new friends enjoyed their time on the hard water. (LEW PAGEL)

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FINDING FISHING FUN No matter what, though, or who you’re with, the heart of spring can be a special time here in the Arctic. The days get long and the deep dark cold of January and February are distant memories. Bears are leaving their dens and the snowshoe hare and ptarmigan are plentiful in the low-lying willows that choke the semifrozen creeks. But for most of us it’s time for the big fish to show themselves. They give you a thrill trying to pull them from the depths into the new-found sun. ASJ Editor’s note: Paul Atkins is an outdoor writer and author from Kotzebue, Alaska. He’s had hundreds of articles published on big game hunting in Alaska and throughout North America and Africa, plus surviving in the Arctic. His new book Atkins’ Alaska is available on Amazon and everywhere good books are sold. It can also be ordered through his website, paulatkinsoutdoors.com, and if you want an autographed copy, contact him at atkinsoutdoors@gmail.com Paul is a regular contributor to Alaska Sporting Journal.

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KARMA ON THE WATER AN ANGLER OBSERVES MOMENTS OF POETIC JUSTICE STORY BY TONY ENSALACO • ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOSEPH FRUEAUF

am definitely not superstitious (knock on wood). I refuse to legitimize any irrational, mumbo-jumbo fallacies that can “supposedly” have a negative impact on my life if I don’t follow its rules. In fact, I purposely go out of my way to walk under ladders, insist on letting black cats cross in front of me, and make it a point to step on every crack that I can

land my size 10 sneakers on. I spoke to my mother this morning and she says her back feels fine. Now, when it comes to karma, that’s a different story. I mean, who am I to tempt fate by challenging a religious belief that dates back thousands of years? Besides, I have firsthand experience witnessing the wrath of karma and what it’s capable of

doing to someone, so I want to make sure that I stay in its good graces.

THE FIRST TIME I was exposed to karma

was on my honeymoon. I wanted to take my new bride on an Alaskan fishing trip – fly into Anchorage, rent a car and maybe fish some of the streams along the Kenai Peninsula’s road system. She had her heart set on a beach vacation. So, we did what any newly married couple would do: We compromised … by going on a beach vacation. She did agree, however, to throw me a bone by letting me book a half-day saltwater charter that ran out of Sarasota, Florida. What an angel. As soon as we met the captain on the dock, I knew the day was going to be a disaster. He was a portly, foul-mouthed, crusty old codger who had a knack for

Our correspondent Tony Ensalaco has endured his share of frustrating and awkward interactions while fishing, including with “a portly, foulmouthed, crusty old codger who had a knack for dropping F-bombs between every three or four words.” Fortunately, for him, karma intervened and he felt vindicated. (JOSEPH FRUEAUF)

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dropping F-bombs between every three or four words. It was obvious that he wasn’t worried about making a good first impression, and he was even less concerned about who his new audience was. But before we were allowed to board his boat, the captain informed us that the party of four that was booked to join us had cancelled, and he was going to have to raise his fee an additional $15 a person – paid upfront – to help make up for the lost revenue. I was hella pissed about the breach of contract, but what could I have done? I had to agree to the new terms because I knew damn well that he wasn’t about to return my deposit. The deckhand was a real treat as well. He was a shaggy-haired, lanky kid – probably in his early 20s – wearing a soiled T-shirt with the sleeves torn off and shredded cargo shorts that looked like they were hand-me-downs from a shark attack victim. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath reeked of stale booze – probably collateral damage from a late night on the town. He didn’t seem to be much of a talker, which was fine because after getting clipped with the extra charge, I wasn’t looking to engage in any friendly conversations. About half way into the trip, we did some bottomfishing over a deepwater reef and had some luck catching a few

“The deckhand was a real treat as well. He was a shaggy-haired, lanky kid wearing a soiled T-shirt with the sleeves torn off and shredded cargo shorts that looked like they were hand-me-downs from a shark attack victim,” the author writes. (JOSEPH FRUEAUF)

keeper-sized grouper and snapper. Every time I hooked a fish, I would offer the rod to my wife. This might have been the second or third time fishing in her lifetime, so I wanted to get her some experience fighting fish. When Ensalaco coached his new bride how to battle a big fish, it didn’t sit well with the rather abrasive deckhand. “Let her fight the fish, man!” he rudely told his customer. (JOSEPH FRUEAUF)

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One of the times I set the hook, I immediately felt strong, powerful headshakes, indicating that it was a good one, so I insisted that she take my rod. After a couple minutes into the contest, she was starting to have trouble handling whatever was attached to the end of the line and needed some help, so I began instructing her on how to pump the rod. The deckhand must not have appreciated my coaching because he came over to me, stuck his lips within a couple inches of my ear and said, “Stop being a @$%# and let her fight the fish, man!” What did he just say? I was more than blown away with his ballsy remarks. My blood instantly started to boil and my mind raced with all sorts of medieval ways that I could retaliate. I mean, did this punk think he could get into my face and get away with it? The only thing I wanted to do was to get my footing back on terra firma so I could air out my hostility, along with a few haymakers. Between my hot Italian temper and my fragile male ego, there was no way I was about to let this conflict go. I spent the rest of the morning plotting my revenge. Fortunately, karma would step in and

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Poetic justice was about to intervene in the form of a snagged setup and a knockout blow landed on the deckhand’s nose. (JOSEPH FRUEAUF)

save me from having to make a court appearance. About an hour later, my wife’s egg sinker became wedged in one of the crevices of the reef. She tried everything, but she still couldn’t dislodge the weight from the rocks. The deckhand saw that she was hung up and went over to see if he could fix the problem. While he was pulling on the rod with every ounce of his scrawny little frame, the line suddenly snapped, causing the thick butt section of the glass rod to come screaming back and drill him square in the nose, knocking him into a bewildered stupor. His knees buckled for a split-second before he toppled over backwards, landing flat on his back. I did all I could to keep from laughing, but still couldn’t contain myself. I remember staring at him while he was lying there motionless and imagining the cartoon tweetie birds chirping and circling above his head. Talk about receiving some payback. Karma delivered the sweetest vengeance that I could ever have envisioned. The lush bucket got jacked harder than any sucker punch I could have thrown at him. It was apparent that he was disoriented, but I had no intention of helping him to get back on his feet. 36

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Instead, I blurted out “Holy %$@#, dude, that must have hurt,” while trying to keep a straight face. The captain saw what had happened, but didn’t show any compassion. Instead, as the poor bastard was collecting his wits (and maybe a couple of cracked teeth), the captain started shouting profanitylaced orders at him to get back to work and find my wife another rod. The inadvertent smackdown must have knocked some sense into him because he actually turned out to be alright for the rest of the charter, even though I still held a grudge. Back at the dock, the deckhand helped us disembark. He thanked us for the meager tip that I begrudgingly gave him and politely asked us what our names were again. I reintroduced ourselves by telling him that my name was Tony, and this was my new wife, Karma. Maybe he was still a little groggy, because I don’t believe that he picked up on my sarcasm.

THE NEXT TIME KARMA would intervene on a fishing trip took place 12 years later and over 4,400 miles to the northwest, in Alaska’s Panhandle. I had just arrived in town and was sitting at the bar, waiting

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for my buddy Danny Kozlow to put away his things before joining me. I was about three swigs into my first beer when the side door flew open and a gray-haired man with a red, windburned face came barging through the entryway and made a beeline to the closest barstool, where he promptly ordered a cocktail. He was still sporting his waders, so I thought it was a safe assumption that he had just come off the river. “How’s the fishing?” I asked, not sure if I was prepared for any bad news. “Fishing would be fine if it wasn’t for a couple of blankity-blank soand-so’s in the green and white, fiberglass drift boat,” he replied. After taking a hard pull of his drink, he continued with the bitch session by telling me that two guys on the river had spent most of their day deliberately racing his group from spot to spot. He went on to describe in graphic detail (his exact words were unfit to print) about how they would intentionally “low-hole” them every time they stopped to fish. Then, as soon as his group indicated that they were about to move, those guys would sprint back to their boat and bolt downstream. When he thought that he had given them the slip, the green and white craft would reappear and find another way to invade their space. I thanked him for the “heads up” and toasted him “to better days on the water” before calling it a night. The following morning, Danny and I were about a mile into the trip’s inaugural float when we came around a bend and discovered the aforementioned boat anchored in some slack water, though no signs of any fishermen. As we continued our journey downstream, we saw a pair of anglers standing in the middle of the stream about 100 yards in front of us. We both agreed that these two had to be the same hombres who we were warned about – and then it was confirmed. As soon as their internal radar picked up our presence, they abruptly reeled in their lines and hightailed it back upstream to the unattended boat. We said good morning in passing, but they chose to ignore our pleasantries. Next, we watched in disbelief as they hopped in the boat, quickly lifted up the anchor and began rowing like madmen in

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a blatant attempt to get ahead of us. Up until then, I was in a pretty good mood, and I really wasn’t interested in starting a turf war, so I slowed down to give them their space. Of course, it wouldn’t have made a difference how long we held ourselves back because we ran into these fools a short time later. They followed the same script. When they saw us, they jumped in their boat and raced down to the next spot. The unwarranted game of leapfrog went on for most of the morning. The handful of times that we were able to fish in front of them, it would only be a matter of minutes before they would come barreling downstream again. What miffed me the most was that every time they came through, they would take some casts into our hole while we waited for them to go by. They clearly had no shame and desperately could have used a few lessons in stream etiquette. The shenanigans felt like it was getting out of hand until I finally had had enough. I told Danny that we were going to take a

break and camp out on a hole for a while to create a cushion of space between us and them. I hadn’t travelled to the largest state in the union to share every other spot with strangers. It was late in the afternoon and we were about three-quarters of the way downriver when Danny and I had our final encounter with the duo. As we were coming up to one of the most anticipated holes on the bottom end of the float, there was a logjam blocking our view. After clearing the jam, the green and white drift boat appeared below us. It was anchored in the middle of the stream and its occupants were laid out – fast asleep – with their feet dangling over the sides. I’m pretty sure their reason for choosing that particular place to rest was to guard that coveted hole downstream, but unfortunately for them, they had fallen asleep on their watch duty. That’s when the evil alter ego inside my head started to harass the part of my conscience that’s in charge of the moral compass. I had to do something.

“To this day, I make a conscientious effort to stay on the righteous path whenever there is a choice between good and evil,” Ensalaco admits. “Because it’s been proven that karma has a way of balancing things out!”

(JOSEPH FRUEAUF)

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Now, if you’re familiar with drift boats, you know that the boats are designed to be so stealthy that a good oarsman can sneak up on a sasquatch getting a drink of water. I could have easily slithered past them without being detected. But what would the fun in that be? Instead, I slapped the oar paddles on the river’s surface with all of my strength, making it sound like a meteor had fallen from the sky and cannonballed into the river. My intention was to get their attention, and it worked because they instantaneously snapped out of their naps and immediately sprang into action. Just as predicted, they booked straight to the hole. This is when it became entertaining. As they approached the hole, the dude upfront shot off a cast right into a fir tree that overhangs the top of the run, burying his rig deep in the branches. He must have been using some heavyweight braid, because while he was trying to retrieve his tackle, it prevented the rower from maneuvering the boat over to the gravel bar and staking their claim on the soughtafter spot. After several futile attempts to break off, the dude stuck in the tree still wasn’t able to make any headway. The second one working the sticks became noticeably frustrated watching the stalemate, so he decided he wasn’t going to wait any longer and bailed out of the boat. Bad move. The water was deeper than it looked, as the guy unexpectedly found out. It was a good thing that he was holding onto the gunwale because he accidentally baptized himself up to his armpits after hastily deciding to evacuate a perfectly dry boat. It took some effort to gain solid footing, but he finally was able to beach the boat without getting more drenched. His partner had no choice but to cut his mainline at the rod tip, which must have accounted for losing half of his line supply. Danny and I decided to drop anchor and pretended like we were organizing our tackle so we could watch the carnival that was surely about to ensue. I didn’t care if I had to row off the river in complete darkness, as long as I was able to give them a taste of their own medicine. They were aware of our whereabouts, so they tried their best to put on a show for us. But the pressure of performing

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must have been too much since they couldn’t get through two consecutive drifts without one of them misfiring a cast into the overhanging brush on the opposite bank, or hanging up on the bottom, possibly from running their rigs too deep. If my memory is correct, they were fishing a snag-infested part of the hole, and I wasn’t about to advise them of that fact. The calamities lasted for several minutes, and in that time, those morons must have sacrificed 10 jigs, some expensive bobbers and a spool of braid to the fish gods. I did a quick tally using my mental abacus and figured they must have “donated” at least 50 bucks worth of tackle without anything to show for their efforts. They finally got the hint and decided to cut their losses. I waited for them to drag the boat off the gravel bar before I made my descent. Those guys didn’t even make it to the tailout before I instructed Danny to “let it rip.” My partner launched one of the farthest casts I have ever seen on a stream that small. It miraculously cleared the overhanging fir tree and

landed dead center in the hole. The float didn’t travel more than 2 feet before disappearing. The instant Danny set the hook, a 17-pound, black-backed silver torpedo skyrocketed 5 feet into the air and landed within an oar’s length of the green and white boat as it was about to relinquish the hole. We both shouted “Fish on!” – even though the loud splash caused by the steelie reentering the water was enough to get anyone in the vicinity’s attention. I should have been concentrating on the battle, but I was more interested in seeing those guys’ reactions. Let’s just say there appeared to be some dissention between those jokers, or even the start of a possible mutiny. I’ll never forget watching the fish’s aerial display as the green and white drift boat slowly faded around the corner and out of sight. Later that night, I ran into that man and his group that were harassed by those same two guys on the previous day. All of us shared a good laugh as Danny and I delivered the blow-by-blow account of our last run-in with them. We collectively

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agreed that karma was definitely in our corner that afternoon, and were elated that it was able to settle the score in a peaceful, yet amusing way. Danny and I floated the river for the next four days, but thankfully, there were no signs of those yahoos. I don’t know if that last encounter drove them off, but it sure was nice not to deal with any nonsense for the rest of our stay.

THAT EPISODE HAPPENED OVER a decade

ago, and since then I’ve often wondered if our spectating was the primary reason for their difficulties, or if there really was a greater force involved. I would like to think that we didn’t intentionally cause their problems – even though I know deep down that our presence was probably the catalyst. Whatever the reason, I believe karma played a major role in their misfortune. And to this day, I make a conscientious effort to stay on the righteous path whenever there is a choice between good and evil. Because it’s been proven that karma has a way of balancing things out! ASJ

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John Schoen’s first experience working with wildlife in Southeast Alaska came on Admiralty Island in 1977. Since then he’s worked tirelessly on multiple critter and conservation projects in and around the Tongass National Forest. (JOHN SCHOEN)

KEEPING THE TONGASS GROWING BY MARY CATHARINE MARTIN

n 1977, John Schoen flew to Hood Bay on Admiralty Island. He’d been hired as the first Southeast Alaska research biologist to study deer, and this was his first trip into the field. “Flying into the bay, looking at humpback whales and all the bald eagles in the trees … we got out of the Beaver, stepped on the beach and saw these huge, enormous brown

bear tracks. And listening to the blue grouse, and the geese on the beach, I just thought ‘Man, I’m getting paid to do this? Unbelievable!’” Schoen recalled. Forty-four years later, he’s made a career studying and working to conserve deer, mountain goats, brown bears, plus Alaska’s ecosystems, and he’s written a book about the journey, Tongass Odyssey: Seeing the Forest Ecosystem through the

Politics of Trees; A Biologist’s Memoir. “What we learned is that old-growth forest is very important,” Schoen said of research he did with U.S. Forest Service research biologist Charlie Wallmo and fellow Alaska Department of Fish and Game research biologist Matt Kirchhoff. “Clearcuts were used by deer in the summertime, when there was an abundance of food, but in the winter

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Schoen and colleagues’ Sitka deer studies in the Tongass emphasized the importance of old-growth forests for the species. “The value of old growth isn’t (just) deer habitat. The value of old growth is as an ecosystem. A very unique ecosystem,” he says. (JOHN SCHOEN)

time, when the snows came the deer couldn’t use them. In the second growth, the deer would have to pack a lunch to make it through. There’s just nothing on the forest floor.” “One thing led to another. We published our results, and then we took tremendous flak from the Forest Service and the timber industry. I quickly realized

that the science was hard to do without bumping into the politics.” At times, politics seemed to threaten Schoen’s job. Twice in the 1980s, he was invited to testify before Congress about his research. Though his immediate supervisors and the then deputy ADFG commissioner were supportive of his work, higher-ups in state government

were not. The State of Alaska first told Congress he was unavailable – then that there was no money to send him. That wasn’t true. He felt strongly enough about his duty to share what he had learned with the American public that he took annual leave to go testify each time, even taking out a loan to be able to afford the plane ticket.

HOW A CONSERVATIONIST FOUND HIS PURPOSE The following is excerpted from Tongass Odyssey: Seeing the Forest Ecosystem through the Politics of Trees.

Part 4: Conservation I can’t recall when I first began thinking about it, but I suspect my conservation philosophy began to emerge when I was a teenager on (Washington State’s) Orcas Island, hunting deer in the forest behind our home, digging clams and collecting oysters off our beach, or diving for abalone and rock scallops in the 44

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

intertidal waters of the San Juan Islands. Our family’s harvesting rule was simple: Don’t take more than you can use, and don’t concentrate your taking in one place. That basic approach describes my place-based conservation strategy. After going to college and majoring in biology, my conservation philosophy evolved; after grad school, I gained the tools to ground my conservation philosophy in ecological theory. For me, conservation includes protecting and managing natural

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resources from berries and fish to trees and deer – so that they are available in perpetuity for others to use and enjoy. In 1905, Gifford Pinchot, appointed by President Theodore Roosevelt as the first chief of the United States Forest Service, described the purpose of conservation as managing resources “to provide the greatest good to the greatest number of people for the longest time.” Conservation, in my opinion, includes both preservation and use. But the key is sustainable use and enjoyment of

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those resources over time measured in decades and centuries. Early in my career with ADFG, when I was first doing deer research on the Tongass, I was often asked by forest managers and administrators, “How many deer do you need?” Underlying that question was the assumption that there would always be some deer left after harvesting timber – timber was more important because it provided jobs and a strong economy. The conventional wisdom at that time was that logging benefited deer. However, the more we learned about old-growth forests – including differences in various types of old growth – the more we began to understand that many other species also used old-growth habitat, including bears, marten, flying squirrels, bald eagles, marbled murrelets, goshawks, salmon, and many other fish and wildlife species. And those species depended on a variety of old-growth habitat types that

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were not necessarily the same as optimal winter deer habitat. In the early stages of our research, it became clear to us that conservation on the Tongass was not just about deer. Fundamentally, conservation was about sustaining the natural diversity and integrity – structure, function and diversity – of the ecosystem. Aldo Leopold said: “The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal or plant, ‘What good is it?’ If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of eons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.” I believe strongly in Leopold’s tenet that the “first principle of conservation is to preserve all the parts.” Keeping all the parts of an ecosystem should be the

foundation of any conservation strategy for our public lands. This does not mean that those lands should be protected from any human uses. But it is imperative that all of the ecological parts should be sustained over time. On the Tongass, high-grading the rare, large-tree old growth violates Leopold’s first principle of conservation just as much as threatening the existence of individual species – like king salmon, grizzly bears or spotted owls – that has occurred on public lands and waters south of Alaska’s border. The concept of conservation must be broadened beyond simply protecting rare, threatened or endangered species. It must encompass sustaining the integrity of ecosystems, including species, distinct populations, discrete habitat types, and the natural diversity, structure and function of the ecological communities that make up the greater whole. On an ecosystem level, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. ASJ

A photo of a 60-year-old second-growth mixed hemlock-spruce stand on Admiralty Island shows all the trees are the same age and size and few forest floor plants occur because of low light levels. “The deer would have to pack a lunch to make it through [winter here]. There’s just nothing on the forest floor,” said Schoen, who measured blacktail density here in comparison to an adjacent old-growth stand. (JOHN SCHOEN)

“I just said, you know, if they don’t want me to go back that much and I have done this work on behalf of the public – it’s a public resource – I have to go back (to D.C.),” he said. “It’s my responsibility.” As he branched out into researching brown bears and mountain goats and as his knowledge deepened, Schoen began thinking about old-growth forest in a different way. “The value of old growth isn’t (just) deer habitat. The value of old growth is as an ecosystem. A very unique ecosystem,” he said. “The old-growth forest is a patchwork quilt of all these different kinds of stands, from shore pine to mountain hemlock that may be 6 inches in diameter and 200 or 300 years old. And (different kinds of forest) have a different understory, and they have different values to different species at different times of the year.” “My evolution has been from looking at the habitat of a single species to looking at the old-growth forest as a very rich, productive ecosystem. People say ‘We’re only logging a small portion of the old growth, so that’s not a problem.’ But they’re focusing that harvest on the rarest, most valuable fisheries and wildlife habitats … Old-growth forests

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Schoen radio-collared this mountain goat between the Mendenhall and Herbert Glaciers at about 3,000 feet elevation. This goat was captured during winter by shooting an immobilizing dart out of a helicopter. (JOHN SCHOEN)

are not renewable. You cannot clear-cut a forest that has 800-year-old trees in it and expect it to come back in 100 years to have the same structure and function of an old-growth ecosystem.”

LATER IN HIS CAREER, Schoen was the

lead scientist for Audubon Alaska. In that role, he organized a letter from seven professional societies representing more than 30,000 scientists to then Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack (whom President Joe Biden has appointed to the position once more) about the importance of transitioning out of oldgrowth clearcutting on the Tongass. They never got a response. But he’s hopeful that the Forest Service policy of allowing clearcut old-growth logging on the Tongass will change, especially since even more research is coming out. A recent study estimated the Tongass stores 44 percent of the carbon in all U.S. national forests. Schoen published Tongass Odyssey in September of 2020, inspired by people’s shifting idea of what was “normal,” the too-slow pace of change he had seen in 40 years of U.S. Forest Service

Mud Bay on northern Chichagof Island was protected via a Land Use Designation II in 1990. Mount Fairweather and Glacier Bay National Park are in the background across Icy Strait. (JOHN SCHOEN) 48

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“We still have an opportunity to keep the diversity of forest habitats on the Tongass National Forest,” Schoen says. “There’s no other national forest in the nation where we have this opportunity.” (JOHN SCHOEN)

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management of the Tongass, and the endangered status of the Tongass’ remaining large-tree old growth, which represents just 3 percent of the forest. “I wrote it because I feel it’s important to get this message out,” he said. “I wanted to put down a marker – here’s what’s happened since I started in 1977. And we still haven’t applied the science that we’ve learned to management. It’s been over 30 years, and we haven’t had the political will … We still have an opportunity to keep the diversity of forest habitats on the Tongass National Forest. There’s no other national forest in the nation where we have this opportunity.” ASJ Editor’s note: John Schoen’s Tongass Odyssey was published by University of Alaska Press and is available at your local bookstore, on Amazon, or at press.uchicago .edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/T/ bo68374362.html. The Salmon State is provided by its namesake SalmonState, an Alaska-based initiative which works to ensure Alaska remains a place wild salmon and the people who depend on them thrive. Go to salmonstate.org for more information.

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LEO’S BIG

BULL For 13-year-old Leo Albertson, a caribou hunt in the Alaskan Interior was a special moment for both he and his dad Landon, who recalled hunting experiences with his own father in Oregon. (LANDON ALBERTSON) 52

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A FAMILY CARIBOU HUNT OFFERS UP GENERATIONAL MEMORIES FOR FATHER AND SON BY LANDON ALBERTSON

remember my first hunt like it was yesterday. It was a cold October morning in southern Oregon and we were chasing mule deer with my dad. Even now, I can smell the thick junipers and the sagebrush that stood taller than my head. We sat next to a barbed wire fence on the edge of a small alfalfa field. The deer would cross the fence in the mornings coming from the alfalfa fields and heading into the junipers to bed. Right at first light, I could just see a herd

of deer start to jump the fence through my scope. I peered through and looked for a buck: doe, doe, fawn, doe, and then finally a buck, which jumped the fence. I shot a small forken horn that day, but I was so proud of that buck it might as well have been a state record. The memory is a trophy, and I’m lucky to have shared that experience with my dad.

BOOM! THE RIFLE RANG out and the dust flew from behind the target. “Two clicks to the left and about 1 inch high,” I told

Leo, my 13-year-old son. He made the adjustments on his scope and sent another round downrange. Bull’s-eye! We were sighting in his rifle and doing some target practice, preparing for his hunt that was less than a month away. Leo had drawn a youth caribou tag for Game Management Unit 13 in central Alaska. Unit 13 holds the notorious Nelchina caribou herd, which has been a popular subsistence hunting herd for centuries. The youth season runs August 1-5 and provides a great opportunity to

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The Palmer-based hunters were ready to go with their ATV and side-by-side, which came in handy in the muddy terrain they’d travel on. (LANDON ALBERTSON)

harvest a caribou before the general season begins on August 10. Caribou are a popular and highly sought-after big game animal in Alaska. They are members of the deer family, sized like an elk and a large mule deer. Bulls weigh 350 to 400 pounds, cows from 175 to 200 pounds. Caribou are unique in the deer family in that both sexes have the ability to grow antlers. Leo’s hunt was for either sex, but he had high hopes to take a bull as his first ’bou. Caribou mostly live in the tundra, but in the early season they escape to the mountains to get away from Alaska’s large mosquitoes and biting flies. That’s where we planned on finding them.

AFTER LOADING THE CAMPER, side-byside and four-wheeler, we finally hit the road by 8 a.m. the day before opening morning. With us on this hunt was my 54

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10-year-old son Caleb and my good friend Tyler. It was about a five-hour drive from our home in Palmer to the Denali Highway, a mostly dirt road that runs east to west to connect the Richardson and Parks Highways. We got to the parking area, unloaded the off-road vehicles, grabbed enough supplies for a few days and headed out into the bush. Thanks to the long summer days in Alaska, we still had about six hours of daylight left to scout and then set up camp. The trail to the hunting location took us about 12 miles from the main road. We crossed running creeks, climbed rocky hills and bogged through swamps. Along the way, we spotted ptarmigan already changing from their auburn-colored summer plumage to their winter white. The birds looked as if they had put on a brown T-shirt and

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white painter’s coveralls. At about the halfway mark, we found fresh caribou tracks crossing the trail. The excitement grew as we knew we were getting closer. The ride across the tundra took about three hours, one of which was spent digging and winching the side-by-side from a muddy swamp. Finally, we reached the base of the mountain, only a little more covered in mud than when our adventure started. As we made the climb up the steep slope, I paused and turned to check on my sons following close behind on the four-wheeler. It was then that I spotted a caribou rack moving through the brush only 50 yards from the trail. The large bull worked its way across the mountainside, but since it was the day before season we could only watch as it crossed the trail behind us and escaped

into the tall brush. We spotted herds of cows crossing ridges and feeding through the draws. We scouted a bit more and came up with a game plan, deciding to wake up early and get to the top of the ridgelines to scout. I had high hopes of finding a herd of bulls or even spotting the bull that we’d seen on the way in. We set up camp, ate dinner and then tucked into our sleeping bags to anxiously wait for morning.

THE TEMPERATURE DROPPED 25 degrees

Finding tracks on the trail is always a thrill for a hunter.

(LANDON ALBERTSON)

Caleb Albertson, the author’s younger son, scans the horizon in search of caribou. (LANDON ALBERTSON)

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overnight and the boys had trouble leaving the warmth of their sleeping bags in the morning. I made oatmeal and opened a pack of doughnuts in hopes of enticing them to get up. We ate breakfast, loaded up the side-byside with gear and headed for the ridge where we had seen a herd of cows the day before. Leo passed on a smaller group of cows along the way and was determined to take a bull. Up and over the mountain we went and onto the other side, where I spotted caribou feeding about a half-mile away. Through the binoculars, I could tell

it was a bachelor herd of bulls and there were a couple of shooters mixed in. We decided to head towards them, with the ankle-high grass and a small boulder field as our only cover. We used the ridgeline as refuge, crouched low and only moved when the bulls lowered their heads to feed. We closed the distance to 300 yards and Leo readied himself on the shooting sticks. A heavy crosswind blew every few minutes, making it difficult for Leo to get Leo was thrilled with his Game Management Unit 13 bull. (LANDON ALBERTSON)

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For the elder Albertson, the nostalgia of his own adventures with his dad made it that much more special to share this harvest with Leo and Caleb. “I’m grateful to have those experiences with my sons,” he writes.

(LANDON ALBERTSON)

steady. I noticed a large, wheelbarrowsized rock protruding from the ground about 2 feet. The rock was about 100 yards in front of us, and we knew if we could get to it that Leo would be able to lie down for a steadier shot. Leo and I quickly grabbed our gear and jogged to the boulder as the bulls continued to feed. They were oblivious to the impending danger. We made it to the rock and Leo placed his .300 Win. Mag. on the boulder, then lay down on his belly. He shouldered the rifle and slowly loaded the chamber with a 190-grain Winchester Expedition big game bullet. While still breathing heavily from our jog, he peered through the scope. Five bulls were munching the grey lichen on the lower side of the mountain face as a single bull stood feeding 20 yards above the group. I told Leo to focus on the lone bull and wait for his opportunity. The bull slowly turned and presented 60

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a quartering-away shot. I heard the click of the rifle’s safety and Leo took a deep breath; then, boom! The shot rang out and dirt flew only inches above the bull. The caribou spun 180 degrees but didn’t run, as he was unsure of where the loud sound had come from. “A little high,” I told Leo. “Just take your time and a deep breath and try again.” He chambered another round, inhaled, and squeezed the trigger. Another shot echoed through the mountainous tundra and the bull instantly fell. Leo’s face lit up and he gave me a huge hug. Then we slowly approached the bull. Leo grabbed its velvet horns and lifted its head for a better view. He stared and smiled, unable to speak, until he looked up at me and said, “Thank you, Dad!”

I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER the hunts I shared and lessons I learned with my father and I’m grateful to have those

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experiences with my sons. Youth hunts give kids the opportunity to experience hunting with less competition and less pressured animals. Getting my sons outdoors has taught them about more than just the landscape and the wildlife; they’ve also gained valuable skills like patience, respect, problem-solving, confidence and responsibility. Hunting has shown them the value of meat and given them the ability to provide for our family. I hope they always remember these experiences and carry the tradition into adulthood to remain hunters for life! ASJ Editor’s note: Landon Albertson grew up in Lakeview, Oregon, but now chases hunting and fishing adventures as an Alaskan transplant. Check out some of them at preyonadventure.com and on his YouTube page (search for “Prey On Adventure: Alaska Fishing & Hunting”).

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GRIZZLY SAFARIS’ JERRY JACQUES

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BY BJORN DIHLE

hen Jerry Jacques was 17, he ran away from California and hitchhiked to Alaska. He had heard stories of his greatgrandfather and grandfather prospecting, trapping and living in the far north and he intended to follow in their footsteps. He spent the summer in Talkeetna guiding raft trips, but that fall, since he was still a minor, the state troopers sent him back

to California. A year later, after graduating from high school, Jerry was back in Alaska. His dream was to guide rivers in the summer and photograph wildlife in the winter. He had heard his grandfather had built a cabin near the headwaters of the Iliamna River, so he put together a light kit and hired a pilot to fly him in to spend the winter in the wilderness.

There’s never a dull moment when Jerry Jacques is leading Alaska wildlife photography tours to get within snapping distance of Bristol Bay’s iconic brown bears. Jacques left California at 17 for the excitement of the Last Frontier. (GRIZZLY SAFARIS) aksportingjournal.com | JUNE 2021

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“I damn near starved to death that winter. I made so many mistakes,” Jerry said.

TODAY, JERRY AND HIS family own and

operate Grizzly Safaris (907-571-6524), based out of Jacques Adventure Lodge in the village of Iliamna. They specialize in guiding photographers after the region’s incredible population of brown bears. Going from a teenager nearly starving to death in the wilds to having a successful ecotourism business has been a long, interesting and lucky journey for Jerry. After surviving that first winter, Jerry was in a desperate state. The river broke up in May and not long after, a Dena’ina man named Kevin Jensen appeared outside the cabin. Kevin had taken his boat as far up the Iliamna River as he could, spotted the smoke from Jerry’s cabin and went to investigate. Kevin promptly took Jerry home to Pedro Bay, a village on the eastern edge of Lake Iliamna where Kevin and his family lived.

“Kevin brought me into his parents’ home and said, ‘I found a stray Gussak. Can we keep him?’ The Jensen family saved me, brought me in and taught me everything I know. I was so lucky to be brought in and taught the Native way,” Jerry said. The Jensens’ ancestors had lived in Iliamna Lake country since time immemorial. Carl Jensen, Kevin’s dad, suggested that Jerry join him in guiding sport hunters after the region’s brown bears and Dall sheep. There was good money in it, and Jerry’s dream of being a wildlife photographer hadn’t penciled out, so he signed on. Carl was a man of many trades. Besides being a hunting guide, he fished Bristol Bay during the sail-boat era, worked as a mechanic and ran the Pedro Bay post office with his wife Marjorie. Shortly before Carl passed on in 2016 at age 87, he was awarded Elder of the Year by the Bristol Bay Native Corporation. Guiding hunters was lucrative but,

The family-run Jacques Adventure Lodge in the village of Iliamna is the home base for some of the best fishing and wildlife viewing around. (GRIZZLY SAFARIS) 64

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after a while, Jerry couldn’t stomach it. “I have no problem with hunting if the animal is being fully utilized, but I found myself rooting for the bears and not my hunters. I just got tired of seeing bears die. I shut down my business and didn’t know what I was going to do next,” Jerry said. One thing that Jerry did know is that the Bristol Bay watershed – between the incredible runs of salmon and its population of brown bear and other wildlife – is one of most incredible and ecologically spectacular places on Earth. “I’ve traveled all over. Nothing compares,” Jerry said.

IN THE EARLY 2000s, Jerry called up renowned wildlife photographer Art Wolfe to see if he was interested in coming out to photograph bears. There was not much of a market for bear viewing back then, but Jerry and Art hit it off. Soon other photographers began booking trips. Today, bear photo trips account for 95 percent of Grizzly Safaris’ business, with

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

Some of the star attractions you’re bound to get close to on a Grizzly Safaris trip. (GRIZZLY SAFARIS)

catch-and-release sport fishing making up the remainder. They specialize in flying small groups from their lodge to a variety of locations in Katmai National Park and the nearby wilderness. Around

90 percent of their clients are repeat customers. Jerry enlisted the bears to help raise his son, Caleb, and it has paid off. Caleb might give Davy Crockett a run for his

Jerry (right) and his son Caleb, the lead guide for Grizzly Safaris, often lead wildlife photographers such as Art Wolfe (center) to capture the majesty of Bristol Bay’s bruins. “It’s awesome to see the joy on our clients’ faces and help them have that experience,” Caleb Jacques says. (GRIZZLY SAFARIS)

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coon-skin cap. By 12, he was guiding bear-viewing clients on his own. Now 21, Caleb is the lead guide for Grizzly Safaris. “Growing up, it was always one adventure after another. Brown bears are the most unique top predators on Earth. It’s amazing to see one in person. It’s awesome to see the joy on our clients’ faces and help them have that experience,” Caleb said. Grizzly Safaris also offers trips to photograph walruses, wolves and birds. When asked if they’d ever consider offering a trip for cryptozoological photographers who want a picture of the famed Iliamna Lake monster, Caleb just laughed. “I’ve spent every day staring out at the lake hoping to see it. It is a huge disappointment. I can’t call myself a true Alaskan until I see it,” Caleb said. ASJ Editor’s note: Learn more about Grizzly Safaris at alaska-grizzlies.com and follow them on Instagram (@alaska-grizzlies). Pride of Bristol Bay is a free column written by Bjorn Dihle and provided by its namesake, a fisherman-direct seafood marketer that specializes in delivering the highest quality of sustainably caught wild salmon from Bristol Bay to your doorstep.

Alaska Sporting Journal - June 2021

Articles inside

Outdoor calendar

Karma bites: An angler’s on-the-water observations

The Pride of Bristol Bay: The life and times of Grizzly Safaris’ Jerry Jacques

The Editor’s Note: Romania’s bear controversy