NomadHunter603
Lil-Rokslider
Here's a story/article I wrote from a hunt back in September
Moose down! Two words that are incredibly exciting and happy to hear, but also means a lot of work is about to happen. Typically it involves packing them out on a backpack, which is no easy task. This particular bull was shot about 5 miles from their camp, down off a mountain and through thick woods, which would be difficult to navigate. Luckily, this moose was shot near a creek that we figured we could get the jet raft up. It was a narrow, twisty, and technical creek. Getting up would not be much of a problem, as long as we stayed up on step. Coming down this creek is where it would be tricky, as you can’t run the engine in a small creek like that when you’re weighed down with a moose.
I’ve decided to write this due to the fact that it serves as a good reminder on just how quickly things can turn bad and some simple safety measures can turn a potentially life threatening situation into a survivable one. Not to mention, now that everyone is safe and sound, it’s a good story highlighting the adventure that is Alaska.
It all started on the 23rd when we got word that one of the guides and his client got a moose down next to the creek. The options were to pack it back 5 miles to the ridge, or take the jet raft and run it about 15 miles up the main river, followed by another 5 miles up the small creek to the moose. Since Branden and I would be the ones taking the jet raft on this adventure, the outfitter/pilot took us out in the super cub so we could fly over the route we would be taking and get a good idea of where we would be going and what obstacles we might face. As we were flying the small creek, we noticed a grizzly bear a couple hundred yards from the water, dragging something into the woods. The pilot slowed the plane down and dropped in elevation so we could see what was going on. The bear, not happy with something so close to its food source (a moose carcass), stood up on its hind legs and was swatting at the plane. We agreed it was one of the largest grizzly bears we’ve ever seen, looking more like a coastal brown bear than an arctic grizzly. We ended up reaching the kill site and returned to the lodge, leaving us time to spend the evening preparing the raft and our gear for the following day's adventure.
On the morning of the 24th, we ate a quick breakfast, loaded the truck, and hit the road, since we had to drive about an hour south and unload the raft. We reached the boat ramp a little after sunrise and unloaded the raft, packed our dry bags with overnight gear and extra gas cans into the boat, and started heading upstream. It was a beautiful day and a fairly uneventful ride until we reached the cutoff point where the small creek dumped into the river, which took about 3 hours to get there. Once we got maybe a quarter of a mile into the creek, we stopped on one of the river banks, topped the gas tank, and stashed the rest of the gas cans in the brush. This is where I also suggested leaving the bag with our tent, sleeping bags, and food. Unbeknownst to us, Branden’s suggestion to take food, water, and shelter would prove to be a decision that saved us.
The next four and a half miles would be tricky. In order for the raft to go through a lot of these areas, you need to stay full throttle so the raft stays on plane. This involves being able to quickly read and judge a river - to make a decision in seconds as to which route is best, since most of these areas we were passing through weren’t much wider than the raft.
Things had been going pretty good for a while until the first event happened. We had roughly a half mile to go until we reached the kill site. We were navigating through a narrow area with a 5” diameter stick hanging off of the river bank. I thought we were going to clear, but the stick caught the oar on the side of the raft, then bounced over that and went into the outside of my thigh, pushing me into the engine and almost off the raft. This is when I heard a loud snap, which was the branch breaking. As soon as I was able to hit the kill switch and get the engine shut off, I switched my focus to the sharp pain coming from my leg, assessing the damage and checking for blood. Fortunately, there was none, just a large bruise and I ripped my waders and the side of the pants I had on underneath.
Upon reaching the moose, we got all of the meat loaded up into the raft, which took up most of the floor and severely weighed us down. To picture how large these animals are, one hind leg on a bull moose will weigh around 150 pounds. We ratchet strapped the skull and antlers to the front, so branches wouldn’t move it or knock it off. This left little room for us, we essentially had to sit on top of the meat.
Since running the engine wouldn’t really be feasible in the creek, and Branden had experience with rowing drift boats in Montana, it made sense for him to get behind the oars and get us down creek and back to the main river. Somewhere along the way, one of the paddles partially broke on one of the oars. It wasn’t a huge deal and I don’t think it would have changed the outcome of what was about to happen.
We had made it probably a mile down the creek at this point. We were coming around a right hand bend, with some swift water on the outside of the turn. The oars we had weren’t ideal for this type of rowing. We weren’t able to overcome the current and ended up out in the swift water and got sucked into a sweeper. In this case the sweeper was some down trees and branches hanging off of the bank and into the outside edge of the turn in the river. I knew hitting these and flipping was possible, but I didn’t think this raft would flip that easily or that the current was strong enough to do so. I was wrong; we no sooner hit the sweeper and the raft flipped. I was able to grab onto the tree and tried to hold on, but the raft pulled me under. My waders were filled with bone chilling river water and I was stuck on something under this raft, I believe it was the steering shaft for the boat motor. I ended up getting untangled pretty quickly and came up for air. Only once I came up, I couldn’t find Branden anywhere. The raft and myself were still being swept downstream. I went back underwater but couldn’t see anything. Finally Branden popped up out of the water. The straps on the binocular harness that were on his chest had gotten caught on the moose antlers, which were ratchet strapped to the front of the raft. Luckily he was able to push and have the straps rip, otherwise I suspect (and was half expecting) that I was going to be hitting the SOS button on my Garmin InReach to report that my friend had just drowned. At this point we dragged the raft to dry ground and were able to flip it over.
With our raft now right side up, we assessed what we had left. We had the raft with a hydro locked motor, oars, head and antlers, cape, and a dry bag with our tent, sleeping bags, and other supplies. This is where we got lucky, I heard a plane heading our way! I ripped everything out of one of our dry bags and dug out the radio we had. I was able to talk to our outfitter, who was now flying over and seeing the aftermath of our capsized raft. He was able to tell us where some of the meat was in the river, which allowed us to recover most of the meat. More importantly, we were able to send him a text via InReach and let him know what supplies we needed, which mostly meant dry clothes, tools for the boat engine, and a spare paddle. Had he not flown over, he probably wouldn’t have gotten our InReach message until much later, which would have meant that we likely would not have gotten dry clothes that night. I truly believe this made the difference between spending the night trying to get warm, dry, and not freezing to death and having a fairly comfortable night. After getting off the radio, we decided to try and make it as far down the creek as we could. It was about 5:30 pm, so it wasn’t dark yet but the sun was starting to hide behind the mountains, and the temperature was definitely starting to drop fast. We made it only about another turn down the creek when we decided that we needed to stop, get a fire going, and set up camp for the night.
Once beached on our river bank, Branden started unloading stuff and setting up camp while I worked on getting a fire going. With our tents set up and fire going, we could hear the rumble of a super cub engine and knew it was likely our outfitter coming in for an air drop with our supplies. The first drop was the paddle, which was a test run, and a failed one at that. The paddle ended up across the river, in a deep section of swift water. The next two drops were good drops. After that we were pretty content; dry and warm at least. The only lingering thought in my head was the boat motor. Knowing that it was hydro locked and that we were really going to need the engine running to make it down the main river; I pulled the spark plugs out, set them near the fire, and then pulled the engine over, which pumped out a bunch of water. That was all I would be able to do with it for the night.
At this point it was almost 9pm, about time for bed. It was just starting to get pretty dark where you couldn’t see that far. The gravel bank we were on was maybe 25 yards wide by 45 yards long, that’s about as far as we could see. We could hear movement and sticks snapping in the thick woods behind our gravel bank, which brought us to full alert. Maybe ten seconds had passed before we saw a huge boar grizzly bear emerge from the brush on the downstream side of our gravel bar, the same one we had seen the night before in the plane. As he was walking our way, I couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to go, as the raft and moose meat was 15 yards away from us on the edge of the river.
Moose down! Two words that are incredibly exciting and happy to hear, but also means a lot of work is about to happen. Typically it involves packing them out on a backpack, which is no easy task. This particular bull was shot about 5 miles from their camp, down off a mountain and through thick woods, which would be difficult to navigate. Luckily, this moose was shot near a creek that we figured we could get the jet raft up. It was a narrow, twisty, and technical creek. Getting up would not be much of a problem, as long as we stayed up on step. Coming down this creek is where it would be tricky, as you can’t run the engine in a small creek like that when you’re weighed down with a moose.
I’ve decided to write this due to the fact that it serves as a good reminder on just how quickly things can turn bad and some simple safety measures can turn a potentially life threatening situation into a survivable one. Not to mention, now that everyone is safe and sound, it’s a good story highlighting the adventure that is Alaska.
It all started on the 23rd when we got word that one of the guides and his client got a moose down next to the creek. The options were to pack it back 5 miles to the ridge, or take the jet raft and run it about 15 miles up the main river, followed by another 5 miles up the small creek to the moose. Since Branden and I would be the ones taking the jet raft on this adventure, the outfitter/pilot took us out in the super cub so we could fly over the route we would be taking and get a good idea of where we would be going and what obstacles we might face. As we were flying the small creek, we noticed a grizzly bear a couple hundred yards from the water, dragging something into the woods. The pilot slowed the plane down and dropped in elevation so we could see what was going on. The bear, not happy with something so close to its food source (a moose carcass), stood up on its hind legs and was swatting at the plane. We agreed it was one of the largest grizzly bears we’ve ever seen, looking more like a coastal brown bear than an arctic grizzly. We ended up reaching the kill site and returned to the lodge, leaving us time to spend the evening preparing the raft and our gear for the following day's adventure.
On the morning of the 24th, we ate a quick breakfast, loaded the truck, and hit the road, since we had to drive about an hour south and unload the raft. We reached the boat ramp a little after sunrise and unloaded the raft, packed our dry bags with overnight gear and extra gas cans into the boat, and started heading upstream. It was a beautiful day and a fairly uneventful ride until we reached the cutoff point where the small creek dumped into the river, which took about 3 hours to get there. Once we got maybe a quarter of a mile into the creek, we stopped on one of the river banks, topped the gas tank, and stashed the rest of the gas cans in the brush. This is where I also suggested leaving the bag with our tent, sleeping bags, and food. Unbeknownst to us, Branden’s suggestion to take food, water, and shelter would prove to be a decision that saved us.
The next four and a half miles would be tricky. In order for the raft to go through a lot of these areas, you need to stay full throttle so the raft stays on plane. This involves being able to quickly read and judge a river - to make a decision in seconds as to which route is best, since most of these areas we were passing through weren’t much wider than the raft.
Things had been going pretty good for a while until the first event happened. We had roughly a half mile to go until we reached the kill site. We were navigating through a narrow area with a 5” diameter stick hanging off of the river bank. I thought we were going to clear, but the stick caught the oar on the side of the raft, then bounced over that and went into the outside of my thigh, pushing me into the engine and almost off the raft. This is when I heard a loud snap, which was the branch breaking. As soon as I was able to hit the kill switch and get the engine shut off, I switched my focus to the sharp pain coming from my leg, assessing the damage and checking for blood. Fortunately, there was none, just a large bruise and I ripped my waders and the side of the pants I had on underneath.
Upon reaching the moose, we got all of the meat loaded up into the raft, which took up most of the floor and severely weighed us down. To picture how large these animals are, one hind leg on a bull moose will weigh around 150 pounds. We ratchet strapped the skull and antlers to the front, so branches wouldn’t move it or knock it off. This left little room for us, we essentially had to sit on top of the meat.
Since running the engine wouldn’t really be feasible in the creek, and Branden had experience with rowing drift boats in Montana, it made sense for him to get behind the oars and get us down creek and back to the main river. Somewhere along the way, one of the paddles partially broke on one of the oars. It wasn’t a huge deal and I don’t think it would have changed the outcome of what was about to happen.
We had made it probably a mile down the creek at this point. We were coming around a right hand bend, with some swift water on the outside of the turn. The oars we had weren’t ideal for this type of rowing. We weren’t able to overcome the current and ended up out in the swift water and got sucked into a sweeper. In this case the sweeper was some down trees and branches hanging off of the bank and into the outside edge of the turn in the river. I knew hitting these and flipping was possible, but I didn’t think this raft would flip that easily or that the current was strong enough to do so. I was wrong; we no sooner hit the sweeper and the raft flipped. I was able to grab onto the tree and tried to hold on, but the raft pulled me under. My waders were filled with bone chilling river water and I was stuck on something under this raft, I believe it was the steering shaft for the boat motor. I ended up getting untangled pretty quickly and came up for air. Only once I came up, I couldn’t find Branden anywhere. The raft and myself were still being swept downstream. I went back underwater but couldn’t see anything. Finally Branden popped up out of the water. The straps on the binocular harness that were on his chest had gotten caught on the moose antlers, which were ratchet strapped to the front of the raft. Luckily he was able to push and have the straps rip, otherwise I suspect (and was half expecting) that I was going to be hitting the SOS button on my Garmin InReach to report that my friend had just drowned. At this point we dragged the raft to dry ground and were able to flip it over.
With our raft now right side up, we assessed what we had left. We had the raft with a hydro locked motor, oars, head and antlers, cape, and a dry bag with our tent, sleeping bags, and other supplies. This is where we got lucky, I heard a plane heading our way! I ripped everything out of one of our dry bags and dug out the radio we had. I was able to talk to our outfitter, who was now flying over and seeing the aftermath of our capsized raft. He was able to tell us where some of the meat was in the river, which allowed us to recover most of the meat. More importantly, we were able to send him a text via InReach and let him know what supplies we needed, which mostly meant dry clothes, tools for the boat engine, and a spare paddle. Had he not flown over, he probably wouldn’t have gotten our InReach message until much later, which would have meant that we likely would not have gotten dry clothes that night. I truly believe this made the difference between spending the night trying to get warm, dry, and not freezing to death and having a fairly comfortable night. After getting off the radio, we decided to try and make it as far down the creek as we could. It was about 5:30 pm, so it wasn’t dark yet but the sun was starting to hide behind the mountains, and the temperature was definitely starting to drop fast. We made it only about another turn down the creek when we decided that we needed to stop, get a fire going, and set up camp for the night.
Once beached on our river bank, Branden started unloading stuff and setting up camp while I worked on getting a fire going. With our tents set up and fire going, we could hear the rumble of a super cub engine and knew it was likely our outfitter coming in for an air drop with our supplies. The first drop was the paddle, which was a test run, and a failed one at that. The paddle ended up across the river, in a deep section of swift water. The next two drops were good drops. After that we were pretty content; dry and warm at least. The only lingering thought in my head was the boat motor. Knowing that it was hydro locked and that we were really going to need the engine running to make it down the main river; I pulled the spark plugs out, set them near the fire, and then pulled the engine over, which pumped out a bunch of water. That was all I would be able to do with it for the night.
At this point it was almost 9pm, about time for bed. It was just starting to get pretty dark where you couldn’t see that far. The gravel bank we were on was maybe 25 yards wide by 45 yards long, that’s about as far as we could see. We could hear movement and sticks snapping in the thick woods behind our gravel bank, which brought us to full alert. Maybe ten seconds had passed before we saw a huge boar grizzly bear emerge from the brush on the downstream side of our gravel bar, the same one we had seen the night before in the plane. As he was walking our way, I couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to go, as the raft and moose meat was 15 yards away from us on the edge of the river.
