Paws off!

An unforgettable Alaska peninsula brown bear hunt

In my opinion there is absolutely no reason to contribute to some hunter's ill concealed attempts to build an aura of heroism around big game hunting - as when it comes to the amount of danger, the truth is quite different.

May 16th. 2002 was opening day - but not for the usual roebuck season. We were suddenly situated less than 20 yards from one of the world's largest predators. And the distance quickly decreased as the raging bear came charging directly towards us!

I have formerly written that hunting so-called dangerous species really isn't so dangerous at the end of the day. Of course there are species, which cannot be hunted entirely without risk, but the actual number of accidents, where the game is the direct cause of injury or death stands in grave contrast to the number of other hunting related deaths such as accidental discharges, cardiac arrests and plain accidents during transport.

Although I have experienced a number of dramatic situations during my years of hunting, almost all of these incidents have been caused by my own lack of thought or experience.

But this bear hunt was different.

Actual risks

In earlier days it was the large cats which caused most deaths among humans - both when it came to confrontations during hunts and as man-eaters. Among the species we normally consider dangerous, however, it is now the bears, which most often get in close contact with humans. Nevertheless the risk of encountering a bear is quite diminutive. According to the American scientist, Steve Herero, the risk of being injured by a bear in Yellowstone National Park is one in 1.5 million visitors - and this figure includes even the most foolish visitors' attempts to treat wild animals as pets by feeding them,  etc. 

If you only look at visitors who walk outside the roads and paths of the park, the risk of getting injured grows to one accident per 59.300 days and persons in the area, but that's still very acceptable.

Hunters are naturally exposed to the largest risks, as they quietly walk through bear-inhabited terrain and accordingly often get close to a bear - by choice or chance - regardless of whether they are hunting bear or not. But even here the risks are small - from the year 1900 and to 1980 "only" 41 lethal bear related accidents have been recorded.

Adrenalin?

In by far the most cases, brown bears are not aggressive, but evasive and cautious animals, which immediately run off when confronted with the smell of humans. But there are exceptions. And when things do go wrong the brown bear is a formidable opponent, which has a well-earned reputation of great rage and difficulty of being put down by even well placed bullets. 

A lot of hunters think that these facts are caused by the large production of adrenalin in the bear's suprarenal glands, which possibly is connected to the processes of increasing the animal's metabolic rate again after hibernation. How "bulletproof" and how bad things can turn when bear accidents happen is vividly illustrated by the experiences of two American hunters, Gary Grindle and Craig Sharp during a hunt on Kodiak Island in 1977.

The latter of the hunters shot and hit a bear in the shoulder with a 250-grain Nosler Partition bullet from his .340 Weatherby Mag., and made the animal roll over with all four legs in the air. As Sharp tried to reload, the extractor claw did not manage to pull out the empty case, and while the hunter during a new attempt succeeded in reloading, the bear got up. Sharp shot again. Later this shot proved to have hit less then 4 inches from the first, which also was well placed. 

After the shot the bear rolled out over a 60 yard high snow-clad precipice and down into a dense patch of willows. The hunters walked down to the willows, but kept well clear of the edge, in case the bear attacked. By moving around the willows the hunters found a blood trail, which was up to 25 -30 inches wide. They followed the trail for almost two miles through the willows, which sometime were so dense that the hunters had to crawl to get through them. 

After two hours of tracking it was getting dark, and a slight drizzle had begun. Although the track was obvious with both blood and broken branches in the snow, the visibility was only a few yards. Accordingly the hunters decided to return to their camp, and return to the track next morning. When the hunters had taken only 8 to 10 steps back home, they heard the bear come roaring towards them from behind. 

Due to the dense willows Sharp did not manage to shoot before the bear hit him and bit him in the thigh. In order to prevent the bear from biting him in the face, Sharp pushed his rifle into the animal's mouth. The bear broke the stock and jerked the rifle from the hunter so hard that the sling was torn off. Sharp's partner now shot the bear 3 times in the neck- and lung region. Unfortunately one of the bullets went through the bear and hit Sharp in the leg and broke the ankle and both bones in the lower leg in a wound channel almost 12" long. 

After the third shot the magazine lid of Grindle's rifle flipped open and the remaining cartridges in the magazine fell to the ground, as the bear let go off Sharp. The bear now attacked Grindle, but changed its mind and ran back over to Sharp. Here Sharp managed to get up in a sitting position and put a bullet in the bear's hip while it was running away. Undoubtedly to their immense relief the hunters could hear the bear fall about a 100 yards away, where they couldn't see it but heard its death rattle. Naturally, the moral of this story is, that when you go hunting, make sure that the tools are up to the job. 

Happiness

However, this sort of violent role change between man and bear were totally absent from my mind as I was lying on a mountaintop south of Lake Iliamna in Alaska. I just felt privileged and very happy. After a week of hunting I was getting acclimatized. Years ago I had hunted black bear in British Columbia, but this time I was looking for the top trophy of North America: an Alaska brown bear. 

Normally a hunt like this would be out of my economic range, but six weeks earlier I found an offer on a bear hunt over the Internet with very favorable terms. My very good friend and hunting buddy, Otto, had decided to accompany me - partly as a photographer, partly for the experience. Accordingly, I was both in good company and hunting for something special. For this reason I felt very privileged. 

From an American hunting bible, which I browsed through the night before our departure, I learned that "Hunting brown bear in Alaska is a challenging affair. Clad in hip boots, rainwear and carrying a heavy rifle the hunters must wander through mountainous terrain, wade small rivers, swamps and dense willows - often in deep thawing snow. If you finally succeed in finding a good bear after many hours of waiting and scanning the terrain with binoculars and spotting scope, it is necessary to get into shooting range in a hurry, as a bear never hangs around very long. 

The hunter must be a good shot, as a wounded brown bear is a very serious matter. The hunters must also be prepared to spend as much as half his hunting days in the tent, as the weather often is too bad to hunt in. One should expect to be wet, cold and tired most of the time. Finally you have to use a powerful caliber, as the Alaska brown bear is very big and tough." 

It had rained the day we arrived, and the morning after when we were waiting to be flown out to the spike camp. But since then the sun had shone from a cloudless sky, and we could now lie here in shirts only and look at the marvelous snow-clad terrain through our binoculars. For this reason I felt not just privileged, but also very happy and content - with absolutely no clue about the drama I was to be involved in the next evening.

Bear country

While we had been waiting for the weather to improve we were accommodated at Gram's Cafe in Iliamna - a bundle of houses and a few hundred inhabitants at the most. Here our outfitter, Ralph, introduced us to our pilot, Matt, and his partner Jim, who would cook for us and act as a camp hand. My hunting guide, Dane, had already been out in the bush for several days looking for bear. Next evening we were all flown out in Matt's Super cub, which had skis on, and accordingly was able to land not only at the frozen lakes, but also in the snow-clad valleys between the summits. 

With everyone assisting we quickly got the camp made, as it consisted of two sleeping tents and a kitchen tent where we could enjoy our meals regardless of the weather. As the weather was more like in Los Angeles than in Seattle we quickly got our portable mattresses out and had a marvelous time with one beer each until the sun set by 10.30 PM and the cold came sneaking in on us. During the following days the same pattern repeated itself - only the hilltop changed. The sun quite quickly made the snow melt away, and more importantly got the bears moving out from their dens. The first few days we saw several bears - most females with cubs, but also some large males, which were too far away for us to have any hope of ever getting within shooting range. 

With the spotting scope and in the crystal clear mountain air with the snow a background, we could easily see a bear several miles away. The presence of bears was often revealed by their lines of tracks, which were very evident in the snow even at far distance. One day when we were on our way back to the camp, we saw a male bear within shooting range, but Dane guesstimated it to be 3-4 years old and not at all what we were looking for, albeit fully legal to take. As we had not seen anything shootable on the third day, Matt came by around 7 pm and said that Ralph had decided to move the camp to new and hopefully better spot, so we started right away to take down the tents.

An appetizer

In Alaska the hunting regulations very understandably do not allow any hunting the same day as you have been flown into the bush. This rule prevents weak persons from using the plane for the actual hunting. However, in order to get the most out of the available time, first Dane and then I were flown in from the former camp. It was dubious whether Matt would have the time also to pick up Otto, take him to the new camp and return to Iliamna before nightfall. After having erected the tents Dane and I had no choice but just relax by cooking dinner and reading. But suddenly we had first class entertainment. Along the edge of the plateau we had camped on, a huge male bear suddenly came waddling. It went by us in good wind and probably never detected our presence, but gave us a welcome opportunity to watch its impressive and rather terrifying size. 

What a monster. The Americans measure the skin of a bear by adding the distance from nose to tail to the distance between the front paws and then dividing this figure by two. Dane estimated the bear to be 8.5 - 9 feet. All American hunters dream of taking a 10-foot bear, but in spite of the many hunters who claim to have killed one, the truth is that bears this size are almost as common as hair on a frog. Although the bear never came closer than 300 - 500 yards, the mere sight of him did not do much to dampen my urge to hunt.

Unfortunately for Otto, Matt did not show up with him until a few minutes after the bear had disappeared, so he never saw the big bruin. We went up very early next morning to look for him, but the old brownie had long ago left the area, just as we had anticipated. Instead we headed for a mountaintop from where we could overlook the enormous valley in front and a number of mountain slopes on the ranges around us. 

While we were walking through the snow-clad terrain I had a number of recollections from my many hunting trips to Greenland. The terrain was very similar with rounded mountains and the southern slopes covered with artic willows, albeit these were much larger than further up north. The smaller vegetation was also the same: crowberry, cotton grass and dwarf birch. Even the ptarmigans were here in great numbers, and they were molting and busy courting.

Long days

While we were lying on the top enjoying the sunshine we had a rare experience. A wolverine came strolling almost right up to our feet - but unfortunately between us and our backpacks, which we had left by a rock 20 yards away, and accordingly we never got a picture of this beautiful predator. But not long after we saw something even more exciting. From our summit we had spotted some bear tracks on the next slope 1000 yards to the west. Due to the dense willows it was hard to see if the bear still was in the valley under the slope, but suddenly we could see something moving in the willows. It turned out to be a bear that just had left its winter lair. However, the willows were so dense that it was very hard to get an impression of the bear's size, as it did not move much but mostly rested in the sun. 

One of the paws and one of the bullets that caused the bear's demise. It does not take much imagination to imagine the consequences of a slap in the face by a paw this size.

It is far from unusual that the bears are inactive for a while after having left the lair, but after all our spotting and waiting it was very frustrating not to be able to see whether the bear was shootable or not. When most of the day was gone we still weren't any wiser regarding the size of the bear, so we decided to get closer. After more than two hours careful stalking we succeeded in getting close to spot where we last saw the animal. But the willows were so dense that the visibility rarely was more than ten yards even at the most open places. And of course things went wrong in the end. 

On a plateau slightly above us we suddenly saw the bear disappear between the willows. Now we knew it was a good-sized bear, but although the distance was only about 30 yards we never had a decent opportunity of a good shot. The good news was that we found a covered carcass of a caribou bull, which raised our hopes of seeing the bruin again. Here the following day we had left camp at dawn and were back on the mountain top around 7 o'clock. Unfortunately the bear had not returned. We had to wait. Our only comfort was the breathtaking beauty of the terrain in front of us, but 12 hours later even that was getting a little boring. But suddenly the bear reappeared and waddled up to his old resting place. Finally.

Otto

Otto writes:  as an observer with the meek hope of taking "The mother of all bear pictures" where both bear, hunter and the scenery would amount to something sublime, I now had struggled along in the heels of the bear hunter. We had crossed frozen lakes, swampy meadows, hilltops and large valleys with thawing snow. You can say a lot about this hunter, but definitely not that he is in bad shape.  Now he finally was laying there - the bear that is - three quarters of a mile away. On a very steep northern and snow clad slope he lay guarding the remains of a dead caribou. In the binoculars we could clearly see the tracks from the lair and down to the carcass. 

The large circle at the left of the picture shows where the bear had its winter lair. The right circle shows where it had covered the remains of a caribou for later consumption. We approached the bear from the backside of the slope to the left and thought we could get the chance of a shot from the crest.

The wind was problematic. If we walked around the back of the mountain we were situated on, we would have to cross a large valley with willows and thawing snow, continue over a patch of open snow and then climb a slope covered with dense willows to reach the crest right above the spot, where the bear was. From here there might be a chance of a long shot at the bear but unfortunately the photographer had sold out his stamina. The thawing snow and the awkward snowshoes had eaten away the remainder of his energy, so while the younger guide and the hunter started out on a forced march the photographer and the older guide, who by now also was getting tired, decided to remain on the mountaintop. 

We were to keep an eye on the bear from our elevated position and signal by waving our jackets if the bear moved away. After an hour of tense waiting we could see that the hunters on the slope of the opposing mountain had begun the ascent towards the crest from where they hoped to get a shot at the bear. The ascent was rather slow and tedious, as the snow was deep and soft, and as the willows were about ten feet tall and almost woven together.

The bear was still next to the carcass, around 200 yards from the crest. Suddenly we felt a gust of wind from behind. Probably due to the dropping temperature, the wind began to swirl. As the hunters were getting close to the crest the bear suddenly jerked up his head. It scented for a moment before jumping up and running down the slope - away from the hunters.

"Oh no, he got wind of them and now we're gonna lose him," Jim exclaimed! But after having run for a while, the bear stopped and got up on his hind legs. In spite of the distance the bear seemed enormous. It scented again and through our binoculars we could read its mind. It clearly thought: "Hell no! Enough is enough!" 

You have to have seen a brown bear run in order to really understand the incredible strength and speed it can display. Now he went in full gallop up through the willows on the steep and snow-clad slope.

"My God, he's charging them," Jim shouted. We both jumped up and started frantically to wave our jackets in order to warn the hunters. But they now were so close to the ridge that they were fully occupied by maneuvering through the dense willows as quietly as possible, and had no thoughts of looking back for our signals. The bear made it to the crest in no time flat. It listened for moment and then ran up along the crest until it was right on top of the hunters and then attacked without hesitation - still hidden by the willows!

Jens

Jens writes: While Dane and I fought our way through the deep snow and the maze of willows the excitement rose as we approached the crest. But neither Dane nor I had any notion of what was going to happen. During the last break I had chambered a round in my .358 Norma Magnum in order to be ready if a quick shot would be needed when we finally would put our heads up over the crest. The willows were getting more open now and our attention was entirely directed towards the crest and the sky behind it. But suddenly we heard a snort and less than 20 yards away to the right. The bear came towards us at an amazing pace.

Dane had not yet got a cartridge in the chamber. I jumped to the right of him in order to get a free line of fire. Although my scope has Butler Creek lens covers, which will flip open by the touch of a finger, I realized there was no time for that. Instead I kept both eyes open and shot the rifle like it was a shotgun. I knew from experience that precision wise it will make no difference at such a short range. 

The vital area of a charging bear can be described like a bib, which doesn't quite reach the brisket and the edge of the shoulders. The brain is far too small and uncertain a target to hit in a situation like this. To my intense relief I saw - like in slow motion - that my 250 grain swift bullet hit the bear exactly where I wanted it to - under the chin and into the chest - a little left of the neck. At this range the energy is almost 4,500 lbs. but the bear continued to come as if nothing had happened! 

Then comes a boom from Dane's .416 Taylor hitting the bear in the same spot, only on the opposite side. Meanwhile I have reloaded, but just as I was going to fire, Dane steps into the line between me and the bear in order to get a better second chance. I nearly shot him in the back. Fortunately my instincts took over and I managed to stop my finger and forced the barrel up in the air just as his second shot booms out. 

Again no reaction. In the same instant the shot rang out the bear is down in a small depression in the crest and the bullet passes over it. Meanwhile, I have stepped to the left of Dane, but due to the angle my second shot is nothing to brag about - it hits the bear in the back of the shoulder and accordingly doesn't put down the bear. Dane's third shot finally provokes a reaction. 

Afterwards, we could tell from the tracks in the snow that the bear was seven steps away when it veered of. As it passed us at only three steps I put a shot behind the shoulder of the bear as it was quartering away through the willows. My fourth and last shot I decided to save until I know whether he turned back instead of blindly firing at the brown mass that was quickly disappearing between the willows.

Old bruin

"... I wanna bigger guuun!" was Dane's first exclamation after the bear was gone. While Dane reloaded his empty .416 Taylor I covered the spot where the bear had disappeared. Then we exchanged our roles. I felt sure that at least three of the six shots were well placed - and the last one definitely lethal - but just in case we decided to wait a little. After what felt like 15 minutes, we could not stand the excitement any longer, so we followed the blood trail into the willows - keeping good distance between each other in order to be able to shoot unhindered if need be. 

The business end of a bear claw. Back in camp Dane is removing fat from the bearskin. Dane insisted on carrying the heavy, wet skin all the way back to camp. Relieved over everything went well - at least from the hunter's point of view - it was time to snap a few photos with the great brown bear.  Below, a set of teeth, which quite clearly demonstrates that the bear was very old. Big and powerful teeth, but worn down, cracked and full of cavities. Not a nice mouthful to live with.

When we got to the bear Dane covered it while I, with my finger on the trigger moved forward and touched it's eyeball with the muzzle of my rifle. The bear was as dead as a Dodo. It turned out to be a very old bear - probably 25 years or more - with very worn down teeth and a total length of 10' 4" from the tip of the nose to the heel. On top of that you can add another 10-12" of foot sole. 

The bear's weight is anyone's guess, but somewhere between 500 and 700 kg is probable as the bear was still quite fat even after it's long sleep in the lair. During the skinning we found four of the five bullets that hit the bear. The skin weighed almost 130 pounds and Dane

carried it all the way back to camp - in spite of my many offers of taking turns. The sun also shone from a cloudless sky for the remainder of the trip. A truly remarkable bear hunt. But next time I think I'll bring my .404 Jeffery....

Authors Otto Petersen and Jens Perto came to Alaska from their native Denmark for this hunt.  Perto is the author of "På jagt i udlandet" and editor of numerous articles on hunting. 

This hunt so impacted guide Dane Hamilton that he wrote his own story.