Alaska Sporting Journal - September 2021 by Media Index Publishing Group

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Volume 11 • Issue 4 www.aksportingjournal.com PUBLISHER James R. Baker

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EXECUTIVE EDITOR Andy Walgamott EDITOR Chris Cocoles WRITERS Paul D. Atkins, Scott Haugen, Tiffany Haugen, Seth Kantner, Brian Watkins 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 September marks the start of many hunting seasons in Alaska, and one of Paul Atkins’ passions is setting up hunting camps throughout Western Alaska, where he scored a big caribou bull. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

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CONTENTS

VOLUME 11 • ISSUE 4

FEATURES 20

RUNNING WITH THE BULLS

As a youngster in Northwest Alaska, Seth Kantner and his family were surrounded by a lot more animals than people, particularly the vast and majestic Western Arctic Caribou Herd that is a fabric of the land and helps define the people who live there. His connection to wildlife has inspired Kantner to write several books about the natural world, and we have an excerpt of his latest project chronicling the importance that caribou have in his life, plus an interview with the author.

AFTER THE MOOSE IS DOWN

LUCK OF THE DRAW

For Alaska hunters like Scott Haugen, there’s nothing more breathtaking than a successful shot on a giant bull moose. But that’s just step one in completing an efficient harvest. With a moose down, properly quartering the animal and packing out the meat quickly and carefully will ensure a full freezer of quality backstraps and fillets. Tiffany Haugen shares a delicious moose meatloaf recipe in the From Field to Fire feature. When our correspondent Brian Watkins won his choice of bows as a lucky Alaska Bowhunters Association banquet raffle winner, little did he know his pick would provide so many bowhunting moments to cherish. From muskox to caribou to a grizzly, the hunting action has been nonstop. Watkins reminisces about that lucky win and the memories he hopes to keep on making in the field.

CAMP CONFIDENTIAL

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE 13 15 17

The Editor’s Note Outdoor calendar Protecting Wild Alaska: Roadless Rule protection restored for Tongass NF

From pop-up tents to luxury cabins to smelly fish shacks, Alaska hunters and anglers who venture into the backcountry have myriad options in terms of accommodations for long trips. Paul Atkins has gone through a little bit of everything for sleeping quarters during his Arctic adventures. He shares some of his memorable experiences when chasing moose, caribou and other critters of the Last Frontier.

(PAUL D. ATKINS)

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.

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EDITOR’S NOTE

KENAI PENINSULA

KENAI

SOLDOTNA 1

The editor’s purchase of a Shakespeare spinning rod and reel in 2019 has yet to yield a fish so far. Could it be a bad luck charm? (CHRIS COCOLES)

HOMER

ince I don’t consider myself overly superstitious, my list of “good luck charms” is small and boring. I guess if I had to identify any such items, there is a pair of red socks I’ll wear if my alma mater Fresno State is playing a big game. And then there are the photo tags of my dearly beloved and now departed dog Sharkie hanging from my car’s rearview mirror that I’ll tap sometimes when I’m on long driving trips. But when our correspondent Brian Watkins shared some of his favorite tales centered around a bow he won in an Alaska Bowhunters Association fundraiser banquet contest (page 58), I started to think long and hard about the power of superstition. Good on Watkins for his “luck of the draw” success on several Alaska hunts with that special bow. Contrast that with the Shakespeare spinning rod and reel I bought in 2019. If a bad luck charm piece of outdoor gear is indeed a thing, then count me in as a cursed angler. I’ve used that dastardly rod probably a half-dozen times at various lakes and come up fishless every single time! In my defense, I could count on one hand the number of fish I saw other anglers catch during said outings, so maybe it was just the conditions and not some fish gods’ conspiracy as to why I’ve been skunked so many times. But good karma seems to be working for Watkins, so whatever works, right? I also kept thinking about one of my favorite fishing movies, Grumpy Old Men, when Walter Matthau’s Max Goldman character swore by his lucky ice fishing rod, which he called the “Green Hornet.” (True story: you can buy a replica on Amazon.) Matthau and co-star Jack Lemmon, two longtime real-life friends and distinguished acting collaborators, had their own fishing feud in the film, with the Green Hornet itself getting caught in the middle of the conflict. After pondering it all, maybe I should come up with a name for that crappy rod of mine to add some good vibes like those that clearly worked for the fictional Max Goldman and Watkins. I’ll think of a name and maybe even wear those lucky red socks the next time I dare fish with it again. -Chris Cocoles

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YOUR MUST-STOP BEFORE HUNTING & FISHING ON PRINCE OF WALES ISLAND, ALASKA KNOWLEDGEABLE STAFF WILL LET YOU KNOW WHERE, WHEN AND HOW!

OUTDOOR CALENDAR*

Several fall brown bear seasons open this month, including in Game Management Units 1 and 3 in Southeast Alaska, and GMU 6 (North Gulf Coast and Prince William Sound). (LISA HUPP/USFWS)

Sept. 1 Black bear season opens in Game Management Units 1 (Southeast Mainland) and 2 (Prince of Wales Island) Sept. 1 Archery bull elk season opens in GMU 3 (Etolin Island) Sept. 1 Moose season opens in GMU 5B (Yakutat) Sept. 1 Black and brown bear seasons open in GMU 6 (North Gulf Coast and Prince William Sound) Sept. 1 Moose season opens in GMU 7 (Seward) Sept. 1 Wolverine season opens in GMU 10 (Aleutians) Sept. 1 Bison season opens in GMU 6 (east of the Copper River, south of the Klawasi River and west of a line from Mount Sanford to Mount Wrangell to Long Glacier, west of the Kotsina River) Sept. 1 Mountain goat season opens in GMU 14A (south and east of the Matanuska River) Sept. 5 Valdez Silver Salmon Derby and Halibut Derby both end; valdezfishderbies.com Sept. 6 Bison season opens in GMU 11 (drainages of the Chitina River east of Chakina River and south and east of the Nizina River) Sept. 14-19 Kenai Silver Salmon Derby; kenaisilversalmonderby.com Sept. 15 Brown bear season opens in GMUs 1 and 3 Sept. 15 Moose season opens in GMU 3 (Petersburg/Wrangell) Sept. 15 Deer season opens in GMU 4 (Chichagof Island east of Port Frederick and north of Tenakee Inlet and remainder of unit) Sept. 15 Mountain goat season begins in GMU 6D (North Gulf Coast and Prince William Sound) Sept. 25 Elk season opens in GMU 8 (Southwest Afognak Island) Note: As COVID-19 restrictions change, check with event websites for any potential changes or cancellations. For more detailed Alaska hunting information, go to adfg.alaska .gov/index.cfm?adfg=wildliferegulations.hunting aksportingjournal.com | SEPTEMBER 2021

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PROTECTING

Bears and salmon – not to mention birds – are critical components of the massive Tongass National Forest in Southeast Alaska. President Joe Biden’s administration recently reinstituted protection for the Tongass via the Roadless Rule from logging and other interests. (DON MACDOUGALL/USFS)

WILD ALASKA

POTUS RESTORES TONGASS NF PROTECTIONS T

he Tongass National Forest’s pristine territory has become caught in the middle of America’s divisive political landscape - think a heated custody battle during messy divorce proceedings. The country’s two most recent presidential administrations have considered the Tongass from vastly different perspectives. The Southeast Alaska location represents the nation’s largest such national forest, and the

Roadless Rule had for years offered protection from logging interests. But in the waning days of Donald Trump’s presidency, his administration excluded the Tongass from the rule. In late spring, President Joe Biden announced plans to overturn that decision (the official announcement came on July 15). The plan would offer protection to around 9.2 million acres of Tongass land. Whit Fosburgh, president and CEO of the Theodore Roosevelt

Conservation Partnership, called the about-face a “major step toward restoring conservation safeguards and shifting to more sustainable forest management practices on the Tongass National Forest.” “We appreciate this leadership by USDA, and look forward to the timely reinstatement of the Roadless Rule on the Tongass, which will conserve some of Alaska’s most productive fish and wildlife habitat while also allowing for

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

PROTECTING

WILD ALASKA

“The real value of the Tongass is in its abundant fish and wildlife, its cultural resources, and in its beautiful scenery and wild landscapes,” says Austin Williams, Trout Unlimited’s Alaska director of law and policy. “For far too long, our fish and wildlife were taken for granted on the Tongass. (PAUL A. ROBBINS/USFS)

community development projects and cultural uses,” Fosburgh added. Several conservation and environmental groups added to the TRCP’s approval of preventing further plans to pave roads and develop logging projects. The Tongass has long been considered sacred ground for its lush fish and wildlife habitat and its oldgrowth forest land. Part of the new sets of protections include eliminating largescale old-growth timber sales while allowing Alaska Native groups’ and smaller such projects to proceed. “The real value of the Tongass is in its abundant fish and wildlife, its 18

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

cultural resources, and in its beautiful scenery and wild landscapes,” said Austin Williams, Trout Unlimited’s Alaska director of law and policy. “This announcement will help ensure these values remain long into the future, that we are investing where we see the greatest return, and that management of the Tongass supports the region’s economic mainstays of fishing and tourism.” “For far too long, our fish and wildlife were taken for granted on the Tongass. It’s a breath of fresh air to see investments made to ensure they are around for future generations.”

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Chris Wood, president and CEO of TU, referred specifically to the waterways within the forest’s lands as some of the last remaining wild salmon spawning habitat in North America. “And a globally significant resource for slowing the impacts of climate change,” Wood added. “Old-growth timber sales have long been notorious for losing money; reinstating the Roadless Rule and prioritizing restoration is an investment in the forest’s most valuable and lasting resources.” ASJ Editor’s note: For more on the Tongass National Forest, go to fs.usda.gov/tongass.

WHERE THE CA

Author Seth Kantner grew up in the remote Arctic of Alaska, where caribou are such a fabric of the region. He has written a book about how they have shaped his life and he hopes will continue for future generations. The animals’ antlers are bright red when the velvet is first stripped away and quickly burnish to brown. (SETH KANTNER) 20

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CARIBOU ROAM

ALASKAN’S LATEST BOOK PAYS HOMAGE TO AN ICONIC HERD BY SETH KANTNER

laskan author Seth Kantner’s writing style is much like the remote Arctic wilderness setting he grew up in: rugged but straightforward. “I try to tell things the way they are, and not take various sides. It’s not easy, and maybe it is strange, but this is how I work to bring people together,” he says. “Maybe this is because I’ve always lived somewhere between the White and Native worlds. And between the human world and the wilderness, too.” “I'm often disturbed by the fact that groups seem so dead-set on not getting along, especially when I believe this to be vital to our future. Our relationship with caribou is a perfect example – how we view these animals,

treat them and how we treat each other concerning this animal tells all there is to tell about us. We can do better.” And in previous books such as Ordinary Wolves, Shopping for Porcupine and Swallowed by the Great Land, Kantner paid homage to the natural environment and the wildlife that share the vast stretches of land with him, a partnership that continues today. His latest project honors the caribou, an animal that to a certain segment of Last Frontier residents represents

a spiritual and physical connection between man and animal. Kanter’s appreciation for the caribou, which he calls an “amazing animal” (see sidebar interview), is deeply personal considering he continues to hunt, photograph and live among the Western Arctic Herd in his Arctic Alaska home. And caribou have a bittersweet history in the 49th state long before Kantner’s time. The following is excerpted from A Thousand Trails Home: Living with Caribou, by Seth Kantner and published by Mountaineer Books.

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et another sudden shift in reality came to the Arctic in the 1920s in the form of a distant hum from the south. A dot appeared in the sky. In seconds the hum swelled to a roar and an airship thundered over the sod igloos and tar paper shacks of Kotzebue. Hundreds of huskies howled in unison. Villagers ran outside, staring up in awe and consternation. The ski-plane circled and touched down, bouncing across snow- drifts, stuttering to a stop. A crowd raced onto the ice and cautiously approached the strange craft. Men peered at the wooden prop and struts, the wings and engine. A schoolteacher and a preacher stepped forward, shook hands with the pilot, and asked for news of the Outside, and where the man had come from; how long was he staying? By 1927 Ralph and Noel Wien had established a business in Nome serving Deering, Candle, Kotzebue, and Point Hope, and soon small planes became the magic carpets of Alaska, reaching every corner of the territory, connecting farflung communities by new trails in the sky. Bush pilots’ names and exploits became legendary. Here on the frontier, these men – and a few women – owned the sky and the sea ice, distant mountain ranges, rivers and lakes, and whichever animals they chose to take; they could climb over the clouds, literally soaring over common folks who remained mere specks down below, stuck following old trails on foot, snowshoes, and plodding dogsleds. Animals were surpassed as the fastest creatures on the tundra. Now, like eagles, humans could traverse unimaginably harsh landscapes in mere hours. A person could climb into an aircraft in Fairbanks, then climb out onto the ice at Kobuk. Before long mail service by dog team was discontinued. Medicine, news, supplies, and even people could now be sledded through the sky! Sick and injured villagers could be transported to hospitals; miners and explorers could be dropped at random points in the wilderness; even food could be hauled north, high above the land. Not long after airplanes arrived, bush pilots began ferrying north yet another batch of Outsiders. These elite strangers came from around the globe and were willing to pay top dollar to be dropped

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deep in the wilds, kill a desired animal, and as quickly have a plane pluck them back to civilization, usually with the large antlers, hide, or a once-snarling head of whatever they shot. This new tribe quickly became warmly despised by Natives for competing for animal resources. Before long these Outsiders had acquired the nickname “head hunters” because of the headless animals they left abandoned near their camps. These days, with so much powerful technology at our fingertips, it’s hard to imagine how worshipped and relied on these aircraft and their pilots were in the wilds of Alaska during the 20th century. And even today, some of these same aircraft – 50-, 60-, and 70-year-old Piper Super Cubs on skis, floats, and tundra tires – remain what they were back in the day: awe-inspiring flying sleds. This Model T Ford of aviation continues to be one of the best airplanes ever built for accessing remote areas of Alaska, and a vehicle of choice for transporting hunters, tourists, hikers, rafters, and photographers far into caribou country.

BY MID-CENTURY, TRANSPORTATION ON the land and water was also evolving. The first outboard motors had come north; slow and heavy, they were infinitely faster than the previous options: paddling, or lining a skiff upstream with dogs and family members pulling ropes while fighting bugs, brush, cutbanks, and current. Evinrude, the first brand of outboard motor, was adopted quickly into Iñupiaq diction, as were the Primus stove, Thermos, and that other wonderful hissing smelly invention, the Coleman lantern. The chainsaw arrived – louder and smellier still – an incredible luxury item, with its throaty roar ringing out along riverbanks where cabin dwellers cut firewood and house logs. And then, a hundred years after the introduction of rifles came an invention with an equal capacity to alter reality in the north: mechanical snow-travelers. The arrival in the 1960s of widespread personal motorized transport – snowtravelers (aka snow machines or snowmobiles) and the earlier outboard motors — distorted the time it took to hunt, the distance that hunters were able to travel, and other details of the

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Air travel is now commonplace in Alaska, but as Kantner writes, after the first flights in the skies in 1927, “Small planes became the magic carpets of Alaska, reaching every corner of the territory, connecting far-flung communities by new trails in the sky.” (SETH KANTNER)

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SHARING THE WORLD WITH WILDLIFE

ditor Chris Cocoles chatted with author Seth Kantner, who candidly discussed the inspiration behind his new book, A Thousand Trails Home: Living With Caribou, plus his views on protecting caribou and the future of herds in Alaska. Chris Cocoles Congratulations on another great book. I know caribou have a special connection to you, your family and your home in Western Alaska, but was there something specific that inspired you to do this project? Seth Kantner Thank you. This book turned out to be a very long project. Yes, you’re correct; caribou in many ways have been the most important animal in my life, as far as meat and furs, sleeping skins, and the fat they supplied to keep us alive during those cold winters in that old subsistence life. I’ve been awed by caribou over the years and want to always keep learning more about them, examining what I do and don’t know about caribou, and spending more time near them. This book made me focus even more than hunting and photographing always has on these amazing animals. Also, times are changing fast here and have changed so much already, but caribou remain important to the local culture. For this reason I wanted to delve into and try to understand some of those changed complexities, such as how people hunt, what they do with the meat, what they save and what they leave, how they treat the animals. I think the drastic changes here – and my concern over even larger ones looming – caused me to write this book. With all the technology we use in our inactions with animals now, we can be frigging dangerous. We have to protect these animals, not just harvest them. I hope people can begin to recognize how fortunate we’ve been to have caribou in our lives – so many thousands of caribou! – and each of us can work to not take them for granted. That’s just the beginning, of course. There are hard choices we have to make if we want to protect what we value.

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

Seth Kantner always knew he’d return to his native Alaska after graduating from the University of Montana. “ I missed home so bad I could hardly stand going to class,” he says. “I found Montana to be really confining; I didn't know how to deal with so many fences, and “No Trespassing” and “No Hunting” signs.” (KILIII YUYAN)

CC During your childhood growing up in

rural Alaska, what kind of connection to wildlife and the outdoors did you have? SK That's a funny question. In some ways connection to the land and animals was all we had! That’s a microscopic exaggeration, but not far off. I grew up out on the land with humans being one of the rarest creatures, and even when people were around most conversations and stories were about wolves and bears and caribou, weather and ice, and hardships – life on the land. Every morning my family looked at the sky, checked the wind and temperature and judged those things against the season and need. What was outdoors decided our day, every day, as far as hunting, fishing and gathering from the land. The other funny thing is we didn’t even realize or really think about our “connection” to the animals and the land. CC Can you share one of your memorable early experiences with caribou? SK Migrating bands of caribou (the Western Arctic herd) came through the place where I was born and raised along the Kobuk River in spring and fall by the hundreds, often thousands. My strongest earliest memory is waking

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

up from a nap in the back of our old sod igloo – on a caribou hide, of course! I was 2 or 3 or 4 years old, and no one was around and I was scared. I went outside barefoot, the sun hurt my eyes, and the north wind was blowing and cold. I called out, and worked my way down toward the big snowdrift by the river, but no one heard me and no one answered. It was spring – May – and I could see dark lines of caribou crossing the ice coming toward me but that was normal and what I really wanted to see was people, my parents and my older brother. Along the hill near our food cache I finally found them, hunched over a bull caribou my dad had shot. The hair was pale and bleached the way caribou are in spring, with black velvet antlers. The sun was warm there out of the wind and meltingout grass felt nice on my feet, and I was relieved to find my family and know that we would have fresh meat. CC You wrote a lot about your dad Howie in this book. Tell me about the influence he’s had on you. SK When my brother and I were kids, my dad included us in everything he did, taught us about tracking animals, catching muskrats, plucking geese to save the down, peeling logs, hunting, tanning pelts, rendering fat; all that and so much more. He also did a lot of reading and was interested in old traditional ways, and woodworking, skiing, building kayaks and sleds and boats – always new things and always with us as partners in his ventures. That has continued to this day; his constant desire to learn new things and his open and accepting world view continue to influence me, especially his humorous way of self-reflection and seeing other species as companions in life. CC I don’t think many in the Lower 48 understand the relationship Alaskans have with fish, wildlife and the natural environment. Can you reflect on that connection? SK Well, people continually surprise me, and I don’t want to judge folks from the Lower 48, a place I hardly know. I have

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noticed even in Alaska there’s an impulse to divide us – including between urban and rural – with the assumption that city people don’t do subsistence. Over the years I’ve many times been impressed at the amount of food gathering some people in Anchorage or other cities do. Impressed too by those folks’ value for and various ways of relating to the land in those places – often very different from ways here. This is another reason why I wrote this book – and most things I write – is to try to bring people together and help us see our similarities. In many ways we in northern Alaska greatly value our ability to hunt and fish and our access to huge expanses of wild nature, this without always realizing how incredibly rare and valuable this privilege is in the 21st century. In that way, yes, the connection to nature here is a very strong connection, founded on the past, and at the same time often rough, raw, messy, and resistant to change – even as nearly everything else in our lives has been transformed. CC After you finished your BA journalism degree in Missoula at the University of Montana, did you always know you’d go back to Alaska? SK Yes, absolutely. There was never the slightest question! Actually, my longing to be home was so overwhelming I dropped out of college every couple of quarters and returned to the Arctic. Every time I saw a Canada goose or even heard them in the sky I missed home so bad I could hardly stand going to class. I found Montana to be really confining; I didn't know how to deal with so many fences, and “No Trespassing” and “No Hunting” signs. I felt like I could or would get arrested if I tried to do most of the things we think of as normal life here in Northwest Alaska.

CC You’ve worn a lot of hats in your life:

fisherman, trapper, igloo builder. Is there something else you want to accomplish professionally? SK For a while I've been wanting to try being a comedian. I still hope to. I was on my way in that direction when this PC culture flared and all these waves and currents of identity politics started sloshing. Things will have to settle out before I’d attempt that now! 26

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CC The Western Arctic Caribou Herd

has seen a large decrease in the last 20 years. How concerned are you going forward with that herd and caribou in Alaska as a whole? SK I’m very concerned. In my opinion, every one of us should be. Caribou don’t simply just really matter and provide meat; they define us. That’s relatively easy to spot here, but I’d also hope people far away – in Chicago, or Berlin – or wherever, understand these animals define them, too. These last vast roaming herds stand as markers – or barometers maybe – of who we are as humans and how far we progress, or digress. Our ability to get along with each other, understand the importance of nature, look ahead, curb our boundless desires, use our heads judiciously in our power over the natural world – it’s all on the line with the caribou. Caribou are amazingly adapted to the tundra; they are tougher than we can imagine living the lives I describe in this book, but their future will no longer be decided solely by them and the wild. CC In terms of sport and subsistence hunting, what do you think is working, what’s not working and what needs to be changed? SK That's another complicated question, and sadly a political one, too. The complexities go on and on – you might as well ask me about guns or race relations! This is another reason I wrote this book, and definitely another reason it took so long. Here in Northwest Alaska – and across Alaska – the two groups often are at odds, and there are hard feelings on both sides. At the same time few people notice, or are willing to notice, that subsistence hunting is getting more like sport hunting, and vice versa. I mean, the amount of money and resources expended to hunt is expanding, while the time spent doing so is shrinking, and there’s a diminishing understanding of the animals, the animals’ relationship to the land and the use of the various animal parts, too. In ways, sport hunting too is changing; laws now require the harvesting of most of the meat, and many hunters are more interested in taking it home and eating it. What needs to change? For starters, a recognition that we are all in this together. Examining

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our similarities is not always what we do best, but where we have to start.

CC And in Alaska, protecting the natural

resources has been a hot-button issue with the Pebble Mine, and closer to home for you, the proposed Arctic National Wildlife Refuge drilling. What’s your take on these potential projects and what can be changed going forward to ensure future generations can continue the lifestyle you and fellow Alaskans have for so long? SK This is true. Actually, even closer to home for me is the proposed Ambler Road, or Brooks Range Road, a project that mega-corporations – Outside mining interests – are attempting to push through that would get the government (state and federal) to pay for access to minerals in the Brooks Range. If this road is built it would lead to an expanding spider web of roads throughout the land used by local villagers and by the Western Arctic herd – disastrous for caribou and the way of life we have here. Not good for the planet either. Recognizing that, and not listening to rhetoric and propaganda, is so important to our future. We are not going to have an amazing wilderness where we're allowed to hunt freely and have it also be an industrial zone. That’s just not possible. This book is my attempt to try to make people aware of this grave choice that they don't always even know they are making, here in NW Alaska, in the Arctic Refuge and down by Bristol Bay, too. CC As for the projects you’ve written such as this new book and others like Ordinary Wolves, Shopping for Porcupine and Swallowed by the Great Land, they all seem like very personal parts of who you are and where you’re from. How sentimental have you been crafting these works? SK Well, you got me. I am sentimental. I respect the old ways and the old days immensely, and the tough individuals – human and animals – that walked this land. I think as Americans a lot of us feel this way. Our myths about ourselves are made of truths, and those truths tie us to who we are. We can’t let go of everything, and we shouldn’t. CC

“Every morning my family looked at the sky, checked the wind and temperature and judged those things against the season and need,” Kantner says of his Alaska upbringing. “What was outdoors decided our day, every day, as far as hunting, fishing and gathering from the land.” (SETH KANTNER)

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traditional cultures’ relationship to the land. Unlike aircraft, which remained out of reach for most villagers, snowmobiles were relatively simple and inexpensive, and nearly every local hunter could purchase and pilot one. Previously, rifles had increased hunters’ ability to harvest animals while still retaining much of the focus on the land. Food and furs had remained essential to survival; transportation by sled dogs required more of the same: meat, fish and fat. The new outboard motors, and especially snowmobiles, proved incredible tools for harvesting these needed resources, while at the same time diminishing the need for huge quantities of protein to power dog teams. Local hunter-gatherer societies, in embracing these machines, soon discovered that the machines had to be fed things that didn’t grow on the tundra: gas, oil and dollars. Also, the snowmobiles and outboards – many built as American recreational vehicles – didn’t hold up under the harsh use by Native hunters in rugged Arctic conditions. Costly repairs requiring more dollars became a fact of life; gas and oil rose steadily in price, and new machines were continuously being manufactured: faster, sleeker, more reliable, and more desirable and expensive. In the wake of this newest upheaval, hunting pressure increased on wolves, wolverine, lynx, foxes, and other furbearers, a long-trusted source of cash from the wild. Coincidentally, in the 1970s and early ’80s the prices of furs on national and international markets rose, briefly helping offset the burgeoning local demand for green money. The federal bounty on wolves had been rescinded. Dall sheep were doing well. Moose were moving north with the increase in shrubbery caused by the still-unrecognized change in climate, and along northern watersheds ptarmigan and snowshoe hare and Arctic hare populations hit startling highs, helping support more wolves, wolverine, lynx, and foxes. Marten were rapidly moving north, too, and their pelts, now termed “American sable,” were selling for record amounts. Voles and shrews experienced a string of successful years – food for furbearers, birds of prey and other animals. Even musk oxen, extirpated in the 1850s by Iñupiaq hunters in northern Alaska, had

been reintroduced and were thriving. And the caribou herds continued to grow. Prey was plentiful, furs were plentiful, commercial fishing was expanding, and more and more seasonal jobs were becoming available in the oil industry, construction, forest fire fighting and government agencies. Hunters roamed far and wide on new powerful machines, trapping and chasing down furs – all the while wearing fewer traditional furs and more store-bought clothing and footwear, and eating more store-bought food. These factors contributed to an uncertain push-pull effect on caribou and other animal populations. Hunters kept wolves and bears in check during the first decades of the snow-traveler era, and with lower demand for dog food, may have aided the recovery of caribou. But at the same time a new phenomenon had been introduced: People could now chase caribou – which can run as fast as 50 miles per hour – and “catch” them. This new hunting practice, while illegal at that time, quickly became accepted, commonplace, and within a generation was viewed as customary.

DURING THIS TIME, ANOTHER technology greatly distorted traditional time and

distance on the land. With shamanlike magic, communication had begun beaming voices across the Arctic – news, weather forecasts and even personal messages on Trapline Chatter, Tundra Telegraph and other AM radio bulletins. The Cold War brought more communication, including the Distant Early Warning Line, a series of Air Force radar sites erected along the north and west coasts of Alaska and stretching across northern Canada and Greenland. This was followed by the State of Alaska constructing satellite telephone and television service in nearly every village, linking isolated communities to the Outside. Locally, households also acquired CB radios for communication between friends, family, nearby villages, and hunters out on snowmobiles and in boats. On the tundra no one yet imagined the Internet, or the tiny enchanted glass windows we hold in our hands today and stare into, each of us with the power to talk across oceans, see beyond the moon or tap a thought into a stranger’s head on the other side of 100 mountains. But with the massive transformations already taking place, bringing those two welcomed cousins to the north – amazing new forms of transportation

After crossing the Kobuk River, caribou embark on the migration north to their calving grounds. (SETH KANTNER) 30

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and communication – also had to come from their more difficult uncle: the law.

THE FIRST ATTEMPT BY the United States to

introduce law and order in the new territory came in 1877 when the revenue cutter Thomas Corwin was sent north to patrol the Bering and Chukchi Seas, assigned to keep piracy, murder, starvation, and such at least microscopically in check. Caribou hunting rules and regulations didn’t yet exist in the area. It was another quarter century until the influx of prospectors brought the first federal game wardens north. In small communities where life consisted of gathering from the land, folks were confounded by the concept of hunting regulations — as opposed to a person’s abilities, need and luck naturally limiting their harvests. They soon learned to fear game wardens like bad weather or an unexplainable disease, and dealt with the threat in a similar fashion. Lawmen had adopted airplanes for means of transportation, and local hunters learned to watch the sky. When game wardens couldn’t be avoided, hunters used a technique they’d honed over thousands of years; they waited and resumed normal life when the “weather” improved.

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In the wake of World War II, with the aid of aircraft, aerial hunting, trapping, and poisoning of wolves contributed to the growth of caribou herds. When the territory became the 49th state in 1959, the federal government still owned most of the land, but enacting and enforcing hunting and fishing regulations across the state became the charge of the new Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADFG) based in Juneau. With statehood, the industries of commercial fishing continued to grow, as did sportfishing and sport hunting, which ADFG was charged with managing. Subsistence hunting – largely outside the range of harvest reports and subject to shifting external forces – was harder to quantify. Meanwhile, in northern Alaska, with each passing decade, geologists discovered more minerals – vast deposits of lead, zinc, copper, gold, coal, oil, and gas – under the tundra the caribou lived on. Developers remained stymied by the sheer remoteness of these riches; until, along the northern coast, test wells at Prudhoe Bay

struck oil in quantities rivaling the Middle East reserves: tens of billions of barrels of crude oil. Development of those resources required a megaproject, the 800-mile Trans-Alaska Pipeline, which first required the settlement of aboriginal land claims between Natives, the federal government and the state. In 1971 Congress passed and President Richard Nixon signed the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA), creating 13 Native Corporations, deeding Natives land and monetary compensation, and paving the way for the Pipeline and other large-scale extractive development. Out here on the land, the lifting of a pen didn’t instantly alter people’s lives. Alaska was still a frontier. And private ownership of land was not a Native custom. Sudden, invisible changes in land status by distant unknown agencies was ethereal, and old news; it had happened before when Russia had basically “sold the world.” Life had gone on, and did so now. No fences appeared on the vast landscape; folks continued hunting, trapping and traveling, eating caribou, skinning seals, picking berries,

Lines of caribou cross the sea ice as they migrate south. “In some ways connection to the land and animals was all we had! That’s a microscopic exaggeration, but not far off,” Kantner says. “I grew up out on the land with humans being one of the rarest creatures.” (SETH KANTNER) 32

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and feeding their families from the land. Biologists employed by the new state continued to study and attempt to quantify the huge and far-flung Arctic herds of caribou. The southern herds – especially the Fortymile and Nelchina herds whose range intersected the road system – were suffering from increased pressure by humans and as a result absorbed much of the money, attention, and management efforts of ADFG personnel. The large northern herds remained distant and something of an afterthought, and attempts to sort them out – as far as distinction between separate herds, range, and population numbers – had consistently proven difficult. This was before modern radio and satellite collars (which came into widespread use in the late 1970s and mid’90s, respectively), and before modern photo censuses where individual caribou are manually counted from photographs by human eye (and recently even by computers). Biologists struggled on the ground and in small aircraft to count large numbers of animals spread across

a territory the size of the moon, or the Louisiana Purchase, or something equally wild, remote and ridiculously gigantic. Early censuses were hard to conduct, and not always accurate. Throughout the 1960s the Western Arctic herd had been estimated to be approximately 100,000 to 200,000 animals, and it wasn’t until the 1970s that two large Arctic herds, the Central Arctic herd and the Teshekpuk Lake herd, were definitively identified as separate herds from the Western Arctic herd. Human harvest at the time was an even tougher number to determine and was estimated from the 1950s through the early 1970s to be about 25,000 caribou annually for the entire northwest Arctic, which referred to essentially the entire northern half of Alaska – say 300,000 square miles, an area larger than Texas, with some of the wildest terrain left on earth. While this harvest estimate seemed high, at the same time the herds appeared to be thriving, and in many northern game management units (GMUs) the state did not set a closed season or proclaim a limit, and liberally allowed the taking of cows

and calves. Some biologists speculated that the introduction of the snowmobile would lower caribou harvests because of the reduced need for food for dog teams, but that remained to be seen. For now, the hands-off approach by the state showed all the signs of working. Farther south, rapid changes were taking place in the larger Alaskan towns and cities. The Trans-Alaska Pipeline, one of the biggest projects in human history, was under construction, and for much of the 1970s the state’s politics and budgets – including funding for caribou research and censuses – were dictated by the frenzy of the new oil boom. In urban areas, the human population rose quickly, and with it pressure on nearby game. Both the Fortymile and Nelchina herds suffered population collapses in the 1960s and ’70s, developments that biologists and game managers working for ADFG were strongly criticized for. What happened with those herds would in part affect what happened next with the northern herds: ADFG employees were becoming gun-shy of politics, and the politics of caribou were

about to get much worse. In 1970 the estimate for the Western Arctic herd rose to 242,000. Then in 1976 the census dropped precipitously, with an initial minimum estimate of 64,000 caribou and later revised to 75,000. At the same time, aerial surveys in 1975 and 1976 near northern villages reported alarming quantities of dead caribou – nearly 1,000 wounded, dead and abandoned each year. Biologists believed that the actual numbers were higher than those observed and decided that humans (aka Native hunters) and wolves were responsible for causing this sharp decline in caribou. The crash of the herd in the late 1800s and the half century it had taken to recover weighed on their minds, as did what had taken place with the Nelchina and Fortymile herds. Game managers and the state Board of Game moved quickly to try to remedy the situation and to avoid being blamed for the demise of another large and important herd. I was 11 when my family and others heard the shocking news: Hunters were to be allowed only one caribou for the entire

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year! Previously, my dad Howie had shot as many as 80 or 100 each fall to feed us and his dog team, and for paniqtuq and pemmican to last the summer. Caribou were part of the landscape; nearly everyone lived off caribou, more or less. Now across the north, families faced this proclamation from ADFG – which, for people living off the land, was as frightening and ludicrous as if the law had suddenly limited each of us to one blueberry a year. Coincidentally, that fall, caribou poured through Onion Portage. Villagers also reported another long string of thousands of caribou flowing down the coast past Point Hope, Kivalina and on down to the tent community at Sisualik, passing Kobuk Lake camps and Kotzebue, moving south to Buckland and beyond. For many lifelong residents of northwest Alaska, incongruously, this was the most caribou they had ever witnessed near their communities. I remember how unsettling and scary it felt when the State of Alaska issued Howie and other hunters a locking metal band to be clipped onto the right hindquarter of their one lone caribou. And how tense that winter was for many families. I remember hunters carrying those silver metal bands, holding them in their big hands, showing them to each other – carefully not clicking them closed and instead saving the band for the next hunt, and the next. How else could one caribou feed a family for a year? Fish and Game issued only 3,000 or so silver bands for the entire north of Alaska and later noted “widespread noncompliance and blatant violation of the regulations.” But from our local viewpoint, we had to eat. And hunting now meant being extra vigilant: Listening for airplanes, working fast, burying gut piles, and kicking snow over blood trails while watching the sky with fear of being arrested. Rumors and fear swirled through the villages. Was it true that it was illegal to leave a skinny animal? Was it true that it was illegal to feed caribou meat to sled dogs? Did that include scraps? How about guts? Could you get arrested if your dog was gnawing a frozen hoof ? What about a sickly animal? Could a hunter leave it or feed it to his dogs and go shoot a healthy one for his family? 34

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(Incidentally, yes, wildlife managers, in an attempt to further protect the herd, had put forth a proposal to make it unlawful to feed caribou meat to dogs, which inadvertently – or otherwise – severed yet another link to Natives’ former lifestyle.) Finally, in the summer of 1978, fair weather and that other variable, money, aligned to make an aerial survey of the Western Arctic herd possible. The count came in at 106,000 animals. Good news – except, unfortunately for some people, this increase in just two years seemed too good to be true, almost a biological stretcher, and it was widely believed by residents of the northern part of the state that ADFG had missed a group or groups of animals in the previous census. (Statistically, caribou don’t have twins, and populations fluctuate depending on quantity and quality of food, cow mortality, calf survival, disease, weather, predation, and other factors. For the Western Arctic population to remain stable, several figures, more or less guidelines, are considered necessary: a calf survival rate [referred to as recruitment] of 15 percent, a parturition [pregnancy] rate of 70 percent, and a survival rate of 85 percent for adult cows. Although herd growth is possible and not uncommon, growth at the rate recorded from 1976 to 1978 is somewhat less likely.) All good intentions on behalf of the department were buried in the ensuing fray of finger-pointing, as was the fact that the caribou population had been declining, and – regardless of our human hardships – most likely did benefit from reduced hunting. Tight restrictions were eased, albeit slowly, and in the following years hunters were allowed two caribou, and then three, and eventually what we have today: five caribou a day, every day of the year. Basically open season, with virtually no restrictions on hunting practices. The state’s initial heavy-handed attempts to remedy the situation, however, remained controversial, and have not been forgiven or forgotten. Criticism rained down on ADFG – probably harsher critiques than if the herd had crashed. The department was hammered, and still is, for cultural

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insensitivity, racism, endorsing starvation, attempting genocide, and more.

FAR AWAY IN THE bureaucratic world, other government agencies were busy with many more pressing issues that needed to be sorted out – especially if future development was to proceed – and in 1980 Congress passed another act, the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA), which established varying degrees of protection on more than 100 million acres of federal land. President Jimmy Carter signed the bill before leaving office, doubling the landholdings of the National Park Service (NPS) – 43 million acres of Alaska were suddenly under its jurisdiction – and cementing Carter’s position as this state’s most hated man for decades to come. The wording of that act, especially ANILCA’s accommodation of rural subsistence priority, was shaped and greatly altered by input and concerns expressed by residents of northern communities – voices arguably a little louder and more insistent in the wake of the caribou controversy. The effects of that act back then were complex, and even today it’s difficult to live with or explain the political, cultural, and environmental quagmire ANILCA created. But in oversimplified terms: across Alaska people believed the federal government was taking what was rightfully theirs – the right to use and treat the land how they saw fit – and feared new laws would limit hunting and fishing, mining and development, and would destroy our various Alaskan lifestyles. My family was among those people, and very afraid. None of us were absolutely wrong, or right. Probably no one person or group was quite as bad or good, virtuous or evil, as those on opposing sides saw them. But big government was now at the doorstep, and hunting and gathering, living off the land as a way of life, would never be simple again. ASJ Editor’s note: The book will be available for purchase this month and you can order it at mountaineers.org/books/books/a-thousand-trails-home-living-with-caribou. For more on author Seth Kantner’s books, check out his website, sethkantner.com.

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HUNTING CAMP CONFIDENTIAL FROM TENTS TO RAMSHACKLE CABINS, WHERE ARCTIC ADVENTURERS BED DOWN FOR THE NIGHT BY PAUL D. ATKINS

’ve camped a lot in the Alaskan Arctic. Most times it was in a tent on some no-name river or a piece of ice-covered tundra, where the snow was too deep and the earth wasn’t smooth enough, especially at night.

Most of my camping experiences have had to do with hunting – some solo, some shared with good friends, making for good times. They were simple waypoints, where a tent was easily set up, gear stored and, with a little luck, we

One of author Paul Atkins’ favorite places on Earth is this spot, where he’s bedded down for the night many times on Arctic Alaska adventures. “Even though we didn’t use it in later years, some of our fondest memories are there,” he says of the cabin that many a hunter has slept in. “We made an imprint on it that will be there for ages.” Literally. Atkins’ and friends’ names are carved into the board above the stove. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

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had a dry experience with no rain. All were memorable and beautiful. When people think of camps, the first thought that comes to mind is setting up a tent and, well, camping. This is true, but here in the Arctic it is much

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If you do a flyout hunt and plan to camp, you better make sure you packed everything. It’s a long way back to town, so if you forgot or don’t have it, you will have to do without it. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

more than that. Camps are legacies – legendary places where generations of people, usually from the same family, have shared their existence and culture over many, many years. These are places with names that are well known throughout the region, like “Jones camp” and “Snyder’s camp.” Most camps include a cabin of some kind and even houses in some instances. Others are simple wall tents or even a plywood shack. Some are summer getaways, where people travel upriver from town to enjoy the solitude of the outdoors. Others are subsistence camps, where fish racks line the banks of rivers full of salmon and other delicacies that will sustain them and make life more enjoyable. But what they all have in common is that they exist for a specific reason and serve a purpose.

SOME CAMPS ARE DESIGNED for hunters who just want to get out of the cold and dry off and maybe get some rest before the next day starts. They can be simple enclosures of plywood with a stove and cache of wood 38

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to keep the chill away. A makeshift clothesline usually dangles from the ceiling, and it will be loaded down with gloves and hats drying off in the warm heat. These simple cabins are not luxurious by any means, but they’re efficient. All are an important part of Alaskan culture, especially in the far north. Seasons dictate the camping exercise, depending on the conditions outside. Fall camps, for instance, are a bit different and there have been a few that have stuck in mind over the years. “Base camp” was one of those. I remember seeing it long before I arrived permanently in this part of Alaska, back when everything was new and fresh and magical in my eyes. It was actually my first trip up the Noatak, and back in those days it was an old National Park Service cabin that was still in use at the time. We passed it on our way upriver to hunt caribou. This was in the 1990s and even though we didn’t see any caribou, I was intrigued by the structure. It made me wonder. Years later I found that it was truly

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abandoned and that is when friend Lew Pagel and I started using it. Lew spruced up the place by bringing an old chair from home – a white recliner covered in fake leather, which I thought actually increased the value of the place. We also upgraded the 15-by-15-foot floor space with a better heating system, a new pot belly barrel stove. It worked well for us during those early years, but if it was raining, the ceiling leaked like a sieve. We did get wet a few times, but we spent a great deal of time there, primarily due to the abundance of bears that were in the region and the occasional caribou. The place fit our hunting needs perfectly.

MOOSE CAMP IS ALSO a place that I remember fondly. It was very similar to the base camp, but it was located east on the Kobuk River instead of the Noatak. We actually found it by accident. Cruising for moose (and whatever else we might find) one evening, we were caught in a downpour – and not just a short one either. Rain pounded us all evening and we knew that the long drive home was out of

Sometimes your camp is set up along the banks of a river, which is nice until the next morning when the evidence confirms you had visitors in the night. (PAUL

D. ATKINS)

Some camps are more than just a tent and a fire. They’re where good times and good conversations are shared with good company. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

the question. We had to find some shelter and find it quick. The shack we ran into was old and whoever had it before hadn’t been there in years, or so it seemed. It wasn’t the cleanest spot either, with a lot of trash and debris left by previous occupants, but it did have a stove. We cleaned it up and stayed there on several occasions. I remember the endless MREs we ate sitting around that stove talking about the day and future plans; it was wonderful. And

we took a really good moose from that area, so it was also conveniently located. There are many such structures spread out across the tundra – from shacks and lean-tos to shelter cabins. But eventually Lew and I became fulltime tent campers. They were easier, I guess – or so we thought – but it did allow us to choose different spots in some of the better territory. It also allowed us to hunt longer. We could go deeper into the evenings and when

we did decide it was too dark, we would search the bank for a spot that was flat – or at least dry – and pitch our gear. It was a good idea at the time. It was tough, though, and there were many occasions that such living conditions just weren’t possible. I remember on a few outings we found ourselves on the edge of the river in deep grass, mud and areas covered in bear tracks, and to top it off, it was pitch dark. But we built our camp there

This camp was way north on a noname stretch of water. “We were looking for caribou and even though there were two other camps a stone’s throw away,” Atkins says, “we were able to get it done.“ (PAUL D. ATKINS)

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Some camps are unique, like this 50-foot fishing vessel Atkins and friends stayed on while hunting deer on the south end of Kodiak Island. They used a skiff to run to shore in the morning and come back on in the evening. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

anyway. Luckily nothing grabbed us during the night, and looking back, it would have been better if we had slept in the boat. I also like to think of the early days a few years after I arrived, when taking an airplane was the way I preferred to get to the backcountry. It was fun. Most of those trips involved friends coming up from the Lower 48. They were all tent camps, with most involved

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camping where we landed. It was usually two tents for four guys, plus one for gear. I remember a 2005 trip vividly. After a long day of searching for caribou my partner and I got back to camp, only to find two other friends cooking bacon and eggs in their tent. We were in bear country and actually had seen a sow and cubs close to camp that day. I was furious, but only laughed afterwards. I also didn’t sleep in that tent ever again.

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SOME YEARS LATER, I flew to a remote part of the Arctic that I had never been to before. The caribou were scarce that year and we had to go far and wide to even get close. Eventually we did find them, but the area where we camped was barren and the idea of a fire was moot. Green willow doesn’t burn well and the temperatures that year, especially so far north, were well below freezing.

One of the biggest attributes of this Western Alaska base camp is a very convenient hill that’s just a short climb from the cabin door. From it you can glass for big game for miles in every direction. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

We got our caribou but just about froze to death doing so. The bears, however, were plentiful, and we lost most of our meat cache twice. It wasn’t the most enjoyable experience. Winter camps are quite different. If you aren’t prepared, you really don’t want to attempt it. The one that sticks out the most in my mind was during a subsistence sheep hunt in March. It was cold. No; it was super cold, but we went anyway. The temperature in town was 25 degrees, but by the time we got to the hunting grounds it was 30 below zero. We rode all day and snowmachined into the area late that evening. We found a spot that had wood and set up our camp. All I can say now is thank 44

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God for the invention of the Arctic Oven tent. Even though ours had a small wood stove, we had to take turns all night stoking it with dry wood. It was especially cold the next morning when we awoke to a frigid 48 below. It took most of the day to get our snowmachines started, but we did get our sheep and got out of there without freezing to death. Those were the instances I remember the most and were the most extreme, but if you take a ride up any river here - whether by boat, snowmachine or maybe even by dog sled – you will see a wide variety and assortment of camps. Most are located along riverbanks, and for good reason. Access is key here, whether it’s for fishing or just to

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get from one point to another. All are placed for a purpose. Trails leading up the bank are quite common. They are well-worn paths leading to paradise. Some you can’t see, as they are built within the trees to keep out of the wind and attain a little privacy. Camps aren’t usually that far from town or a village either; a short ride up the river and you’re there. This is very convenient, especially on a weekday when getting out after work is your goal. Fridays are the busiest, especially at the gas pump, where lines of hunters and anglers fill barrels and jugs. Soon a flurry of boats and/or snow-gos can be seen heading north. If you hear someone say, “We’re going

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For all of the cold nights, the rain and being uncomfortable at times, the rewards can be priceless in this rugged Alaskan wilderness. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

to camp,” it has a significant purpose. When the weather’s nice, it’s not unusual to see children playing outside, while the older kids hunt or fish near camp. Some have lookout towers placed near the cabin, where they can climb up and hopefully locate a caribou or moose that ventures too close. Everyone enjoys camp and takes in all that the experience can offer. Some families have made camp their full-time home, only coming to town to get supplies when needed. My very first “camp” experience, however, came by accident.

IN THE FALL OF 1997, when I first arrived in Alaska, I came up for a week to visit my uncle and look for caribou. Our hunt was only for a couple of days and took place on a boat owned by a friend. Each day we would cruise up and down the river and hope to find an 46

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

unexpecting bull close to the bank. The beauty surrounding us as we made our way up the river was something to see, but it was also raining hard, a continuous downpour that didn’t let up from the time we left until we got back to town that evening. The next day wasn’t much better, but the wind calmed and we decided to go in another direction down a different river. We had a great time and were able to take a couple of nice bulls. Still, the weather wasn’t so nice and it kept us from crossing a big lake on the way back to town. Rolling waves and 7- to 8-foot caps are bad business in an open boat and definitely something you don’t mess with. My guide and now longtime friend Ron invited us to stay at his camp, which was located on the Kobuk River. It was a modest camp that was cozy, dry and

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

full of enough necessities to sustain us for a month. Like most cabins that line the river, a Coleman lantern hung from the ceiling and bunks were built into the wall. Out back was an old outhouse that looked like it had been there for ages. The sides were bowed in and the structure was slowly seeping into the tundra, leaving it leaning to one side, which left an impression upon entering and exiting. It was a warm night and we were happy to have a place to stay, even though the people back in Kotzebue had no idea what happened to us. But Ron’s family cabin had been there for many years. Repairs and upgrades have continued throughout time and generations. It was comfortable and memorable. That night I had my first taste of muktuk, whale blubber, and it was wonderful. The next day we awoke to

aksportingjournal.com | SEPTEMBER 2021

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

“Camping in the Arctic is special, whether in a tent or a five-star log cabin,” Atkins writes. “They can be places just to visit or get away from it all, or maybe to recharge your battery and just kick back.” (PAUL D. ATKINS)

blue skies and, more importantly, calm weather. We were home in an hour to some very relieved relatives. CAMPING IN THE ARCTIC is special, whether in a tent or a five-star log cabin. They can be places just to visit or get away from it all, or maybe to recharge your battery and just kick back. They might be work camps, where filling the freezer for the year is its only purpose. Most people who live here need a camp to help bring balance into their lives and make living in the Last Frontier much more enjoyable. 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 paulatkinsoutdoors.com, and if you want an autographed copy, contact Paul at atkinsoutdoors@gmail.com. Paul is a regular contributor to Alaska Sporting Journal.

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

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FIELD

AFTER THE MOOSE IS DOWN

YOU’VE TAKEN A BIG BULL AND NOW THE REAL WORK BEGINS – ARE YOU READY FOR THAT?

BY SCOTT HAUGEN “ don’t care if I even kill a bull after that!” said my buddy Chris Stewart, who’d clearly made his point. I’d shot a big bull moose on opening morning, and four of us worked hard over the next 11 hours to pack it out in pieces. We waded through marshes, tripped over alders and popped two rafts, but eventually we made it back to our boat and then base camp. The next day we rested. On day three Chris’s mind changed, and on day four of the season he tagged a whopper bull. His field dressing and packing out was much easier than mine. The next day we headed downriver to get the meat of the two bulls into coolers in a nearby village, something that had been arranged prior to the hunt. That’s when another buddy filled a tag on a bull that crossed the river in front of us. The third bull was in a tidal zone and we had to make certain of the tides before he pulled the trigger. Fortunately, he dropped the bull on the river’s edge – amid sparse alders – so the packing job was easy since it was only 20 yards from the boat. Still, we hustled to beat the clock and were able to get all the meat in the

Chris Stewart, the author’s hunting partner, with his first moose, a whopper! Once down, moose are a lot of work, and being thoroughly prepared for field dressing is key. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

boat before the incoming tide reached us.

THE REAL WORK OF moose hunting begins the moment the trigger is pulled, and the key to a safe, productive field care experience comes down to preparation and a willingness to work hard. For a first-time moose hunter, the most surprising moment comes when they walk up on a downed bull. A big bull moose can stand over 7 feet tall at the shoulders and weigh upwards of 1,500 pounds. You’ll get about 700 pounds of boned-out meat off a big bull. If you’re going to have your bull mounted, add at least another 150 pounds for the antlers and cape. They’re massive animals, and once down require a lot of work. Be sure to have the proper tools to handle a downed bull. The same knife you use on deer will work fine, but be sure to have a sharpener. If hunting near water, having a one-man inflatable raft is a great way to pack out moose meat. If not, then make sure your pack frame is the best you can afford. Start with quartering the animal, then removing the backstraps, rib meat, neck and brisket meat and securing it

aksportingjournal.com | SEPTEMBER 2021

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

FIELD

Whether it’s moose, bear or other big game, you can prepare your harvest a variety of ways, including Tiffany Haugen’s twist on meatloaf.

MAKE A LOADED ’LOAF WITH YOUR BIG GAME BY TIFFANY HAUGEN hen properly taken care of from field to table, moose meat can surpass prime cuts of beef. The preferred cooking methods for most cuts of this large-grained meat are via slow cooking, stir-frying quickly at high temperatures, or grinding and

using in casseroles or fillings. Moose also makes great jerky and sausage. Here’s a family favorite that not only works wonderfully with moose, but can be prepared with any other big game meat. We have used caribou, elk, deer and bear to create this dish.

MOOSE SWIRL MEATLOAF 1 tablespoon olive oil ½ cup diced onion ½ cup diced bell pepper ½ cup shredded carrot ½ cup diced celery 3 cloves minced garlic 2 cups packed cooked spinach 2 pounds ground moose meat 1 egg 2 teaspoons salt ¾ teaspoon Italian seasoning ½ teaspoon black pepper ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley ⅓ cup marinara sauce ¼ cup Parmesan cheese

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In a skillet, sauté onion, pepper, carrot and celery in oil on medium-high heat until soft. In a large bowl, mix meat, egg and seasonings. Spread meat mixture onto waxed paper (about ¾ inch thick). Spread spinach, parsley and sautéed vegetables evenly over meat. Carefully roll meat around vegetables. Place on a baking sheet. Cover with marinara sauce and bake in a preheated, 350-degree oven for 35 to 45 minutes or until internal temperature reaches 165 degrees. Garnish with Parmesan cheese if desired. Editor’s note: For signed copies of Tiffany’s popular book, Cooking Big Game and other best-selling titles, visit tiffanyhaugen.com.

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

FIELD

in game bags. All shank meat and the tenderloins must also be taken. Alaska meat salvaging laws are very clear, and there’s no hiding a moose carcass from troopers patrolling from the air, so make certain to abide by the regulations and recover all the required meat.

Packing out moose meat sometimes takes longer than the actual hunt, and being prepared to tackle this project takes serious planning and a lot of effort. Be in the best shape possible. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

Prior to finalizing your moose hunt, make sure you have a plan to get the meat out of the field and all the way home. A couple seasons ago, three buddies filled their moose tags in the Interior. They weren’t planning on 100-percent success, but it happened. Six plane loads

FIELD

later, their meat was out of the field and it took two more loads to get the hunters and their gear out. That cost them nearly $6,000 they hadn’t planned on, and they still had to get the meat and antlers home from there.

A DO-IT-YOURSELF MOOSE HUNT can

Todd Crawford is all smiles over this moose backstrap, taken from the bull he dropped with one shot along a river. Not all packs are long, but moose are big and heavy animals, which requires hard work for hunters. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

be one of Alaska’s most rewarding adventures. It’s far from easy – or simple. But that’s what makes it so appealing. Nonresidents don’t have to hire a guide for moose hunting, as is required when hunting brown/grizzly bear, Dall sheep and mountain goat. Moose numbers are doing well in Alaska, and the last few seasons have seen a tremendous success rate on big bulls. If you’ve ever dreamed of hunting moose in Alaska, now is the time. ASJ

Editor’s note: For signed copies of Scott Haugen’s best-selling book, Hunting the Alaskan High Arctic, visit scotthaugen.com. Only a few copies of this book remain! Follow Scott on Instagram and Facebook.

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

THE LUCK OF THE DRAW

A HUNTER MAKES GOOD USE OF A RAFFLE-WINNING BOW BY BRIAN WATKINS

his spring was a bit of a letdown. Hunting-wise, all was normal, but the camaraderie of banquets – seeing old friends and making new friends – was missing. Going to banquets gets you excited for the season ahead. You talk about past hunts, network with fellow hunters and figure out future adventures. Missing the Alaska Bowhunters Association banquet this year had me reminiscing back to 2017’s edition. That year’s event is where this story begins.

I SHOWED UP TO the gathering figuring I’d

donate a couple hundred bucks and walk out of the Dena’ina Center in Anchorage with nothing short of a buzz and great memories. The banquet had other ideas. It had a game called the “Wall of Bows.” The way the game is played, a deck of cards is sold for $20 a card. So you have a 1-in-52 chance of getting your card drawn. After each deck is bought, a card gets pulled. If it matches yours, you win a prize! I played through a couple of decks and hadn’t been drawn. I joked with a few buddies that the next deck was mine. I bought five cards and the entire room knew the moment one of my cards was drawn. I picked the Mission Blaze bow off the wall. My choice wasn’t based on a plethora of knowledge about the plusses and minuses of all the bows on the wall. Rather, the decision was simply selecting the bow with orange strings and black

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

A special bow has been part of a lot of epic Alaska big game hunts for author Brian Watkins, including for a billy goat. Watkins won it at the 2017 Alaska Bowhunters Association fundraising banquet, choosing it for the black and orange paint scheme that reminded him of his favorite hockey team, the Philadelphia Flyers. (BRIAN WATKINS)

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ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

riser and limbs. I am as superstitious as they come and those are the same colors as my favorite hockey team: the Philadelphia Flyers. Looking back on that night, the bow was a secondary prize. I had also befriended two ABA members, treasurer Trevor Embry and Fairbanks director Nick Muche. I had always loved bowhunting, but these two drove me to the next level. Trevor, Nick and I became great friends instantly. We shared the same passion for the mountains and hunting. They switched my mentality from gun hunter to bowhunter. My luck-of-thedraw bow adventure had just started.

AFTER COUNTLESS NIGHTS TALKING about

future hunts, I ironed out a plan to meet Trevor on the Haul Road for caribou. Due to work, I had to fly to Deadhorse to meet Trevor. Within an hour of the start of our hunt, I was at full draw on a

caribou. My Mission Blaze sent an arrow flying through a nice bull at 40 yards. The following spring was my 30th birthday. I planned a bowhunting trip with my best friend DJ to Sachs Harbour, Northwest Territories, Canada, as a present to myself. We were able to take two nice muskox each and while a blistering 40 degrees below zero, it was an amazing birthday trip and one I’ll never forget. The next spring I was able to use the same bow at my bear bait, harvesting a beautiful brown bear. A perfect shot at 25 yards kept the luck of the draw. That draw tag season also blessed me with an any-ram tag. It was quite a frustrating hunt because the area is small, and a lot of tags are given out. I had two stalks blown due to other hunters in the field. Par for the course. I reached Trevor, who drove home words of encouragement to stay at it, and at 26 yards, I was able to

harvest a sheep with my bow. A month later, Trevor and I dressed up for Halloween and flew out to Kodiak to chase Sitka blacktail deer (Alaska Sporting Journal, March 2019). I was able to take another Pope and Young animal. He was a beautiful buck, and we had a great time to boot.

THE FOLLOWING SPRING, I went out on

a trip with Trevor, Nick and ABA vice president Gary Colbath. We brought the bows, but unluckily struck out. The snow was deep and the terrain unforgiving for bowhunting. We had to take a rifle with us, but we all promised our next goat hunts would be with bows only. Meanwhile, I had mine along for spring bruins and found another decent black bear. Overall, 2019 was a frustrating year for me. Work was in the way and I didn’t get to hunt as much as I’d like. I did get

Watkins met Trevor Embry (right) at the archers banquet, and they became fast friends who have shared plenty of hunts with Watkins’ lucky bow. (BRIAN WATKINS)

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The bow traveled to far northern Canada’s Banks Island, where temperatures dipped to 40 below zero, but the two muskox the author harvested with it made for a memorable 30th birthday. (BRIAN WATKINS)

a weekend moose hunt in and found a great bull that I was able to call in to 60 yards. I was lucky to find it and even luckier to continue with that lucky bow from 2017! Then COVID-19 hit and nobody knew what was going to happen. Fortunately, our governor reopened spring bear hunts and I was lucky enough to double up on two nice boars in one night. This last August was one for the ages. Trevor, a buddy from college and I met up and made true to our promise of hunting goats with the bow. We went two for two with the magic black and orange bow. After the goat hunt, we did a turnand-burn and drove to the Haul Road. We were able to take three caribou and a grizzly within a week.

“The 2017 banquet gave me a lucky bow that drew from the 8 of clubs in my deck,” Watkins writes about the card raffle he won and the prize he’s made the most of. “But most importantly it gave me lifelong buddies to keep the luck rolling with.” (BRIAN WATKINS) 62

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

ALL IN ALL, THE 2017 banquet gave me a lucky bow that drew from the 8 of clubs in my deck. But most importantly it gave me lifelong buddies to keep the luck rolling with. Cheers to the right deck of cards, that Mission Blaze bow and the great friends who came into my life. I’m already looking forward to the 2022 banquet. Don’t forget to try your luck at winning a new bow and meeting great people who might share a memorable hunt with you. ASJ

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Pocket Ox hoists are force multipliers and their small size bely the power to help backcountry and other hunters hang much larger game than they otherwise would be able to. But uses go far beyond that, with applications for everything from technical rescues to yarding dirt bikes out of bad places, and a home in the survival kits of hikers and others. (POCKET OX)

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n 2001, Mike Lafrenz was looking to replace a small six-pulley hoist that he had used for over 20 years. After an extensive search – “it’s hard to imagine how, not long ago, online shopping just wasn’t a ‘thing,’” he recalls – Lafrenz was finding nothing but shoddy products. “So, into the rabbit hole,” he says. “My first prototype was the parts from two four-pulley hoists pinned together to make a six-to-one. The thing was huge! And the bundle of rope? Wow. My quest for small-diameter rope took me to Oregon kite surfers, then I had to downsize everything else to match this tiny line. Like most stories, I never dreamed of selling these things. Just make a couple for my buddies and that’s it.” Of course, Lafrenz’s creation, dubbed the Pocket Ox, quickly found a following and he opened for business from his Idaho home. “We are just one of your neighbors with

a busy basement,” he explains. “I hate to call it a ‘hobby business,’ but that’s what my accountant seems to imply. We are small. Most every kit is made to order, as there are a few options and accessories.” Pocket Ox offers the smallest, most powerful “in your pack, not in the truck” manual hoists. Products are designed for endeavors, both recreational and professional, “where the size and weight of every item needs to be justified,” says Lafrenz. “Our tools are for packsaddles, snow machines, and hunters’ fanny packs that I swear get heavier every season. I know there’s at least a couple in Alaska bush planes.” There are three sizes of hoist kits to choose from. The 16-pulley Pocket Ox Bull mini-hoist is the largest production model, weighing 24 ounces. The Bull provides a mechanical advantage of 16:1 and is rated for 2,000 pounds (static load). This is the recommended size for ATV

and snowmobile recovery, technical rescue, multi-person expeditions and hunters wishing to hang whole elk or moose. The 12-pulley Pocket Ox Cow minihoist is the midsize offering, weighing 20 ounces. The Cow provides a mechanical advantage of 12:1 and is rated for 1,500 pounds (static load). This is the recommended size for those on safari abroad,

Mike and Rhonda Lafrenz, owners of Pocket Ox. (POCKET OX)

aksportingjournal.com1 | SEPTEMBER 2021

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

Models include the (left to right) 16-pulley Bull mini-hoist, the company’s largest production model which weighs 24 ounces and is rated for 2,000 pounds (static load); the 12-pulley Cow mini-hoist, which weighs 20 ounces and is rated for 1,500 pounds; and the eight-pulley Calf, weighing just a pound and capable of 1,000 pounds. (POCKET OX)

dirt/snow bike self-rescue, saddlebags, wilderness guides and trail crews, and backcountry or urban survival. For hunters, the Cow is ideal for manipulating elk-sized game on the ground or hanging elk halves, deer and hog-sized game. The eight-pulley Pocket Ox Calf minihoist is the smallest of the trio, weighing 16 ounces. The Calf provides a mechanical advantage of 8:1 and is rated for 1,000 pounds (static load). The Calf is recommended for the solo archer, paddling and cycling sports, hiking, climbing, caving, smokejumpers, aviation and military survival, drop camps, and multi-day treks pursuing deer-sized game or hanging elk quarters. “We make one hoist that we don’t really advertise,” adds Lafrenz. “It’s built with the same components but with 20 sheaves (10 in each block) and 250 feet of haul line. It barely fits in a Pringles can. Too big for anybody’s daypack. Still perfect stuffed in a floatplane or a rafting guide’s box. We call it the ‘Team,’ and at 20:1, it is amazing. Even a chubby guy can usually pull him/herself off the ground. Deduct about 4 percent for friction and multiply that by 20. You can really generate some power.” Pocket Ox products have gained popularity around the country, mostly from word-of-mouth. “People talk,” says Lafrenz. “Especially in Montana. When we send a hoist to some town I’ve barely heard of, in about 18 months, we’ll make one or two sales to the same zip code.” ASJ Editor’s note: For more information, visit pocketox.com. Pocket Ox’s orange gripbraid next to a similar length of Paracord; the former weighs 10 ounces less and takes up 28 fewer cubic inches of space. (POCKET OX)

“You can really generate some power” with the largely unadvertised Team pulley, says Lafrenz. It features 20 sheaves and 250 feet of line, and while too big for a backpack, it’s a handy addition to gear boxes. (POCKET OX) 66

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2021 | aksportingjournal.com

aksportingjournal.com1 | SEPTEMBER 2021

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

Alaska Sporting Journal - September 2021

Articles inside

AFTER THE MOOSE IS DOWN

RUNNING WITH THE BULLS

Outdoor calendar

Protecting Wild Alaska Roadless Rule protection restored for Tongass NF

The Editor’s Note