NORTHERN DREAMS
As long as I can remember, the northern mountains of British Columbia seemed like a wild foreign land. For years, I dreamt about the adventures of so many before me. Untamed mountain peaks. Animals sometimes never before seen by man. Until recent years, I had never ventured too far north. The majority of my life has been spent living in the interior of the province. Having traveled a bit to some tropical destinations and common tourist cities, the North has always been top of my list. I’ve still only made two trips to the northern area of this province, but to say I’m hooked is an understatement. I’m sure there will be many more trips to come exploring, and adventuring into those wild hills.
A River Adventure
I was invited on a jetboat hunting trip by a friend. His stories of adventures and hunts past had me waiting all spring and summer for our adventure. I loaded up my truck and headed to his house in Williams Lake to join the crew for our hunt. I was to join his brother, son, and himself on a mid-August adventure into the mountains. We decided to do a straight pull to the river and take turns driving if needed. As usual, as soon as the sun set , I was snoring logs for most of the night. Lucky I didn’t miss much for sightseeing with only lit up highway lines and starry skies for the majority of the drive.
We hit Fort Nelson and loaded up with all last-minute food and fuel for our trip. Nice looking country. There were not a lot of mountains to look at from the highway, but I knew what we were headed into. We pulled up to the boat launch on the Muskwa River. There were a few trucks and boat trailers lined up in the parking area, but not as many as expected, so hopes were high. Being new to Jet boats, I knew not what to expect. I was given directions on footwear as the water was quite low and we expected some hiccups along the way.It had been a hot, dry summer, and forest fires were still full force all around us.
I was shocked at what these machines could do, he was was quite proficient at maneuvering this giant machine through all kinds of low water and tight corners. It was a morning boat ride to the Tuchodi. We did hit a couple sand bars along the way. I was first to jump out and start pushing our way off so we could continue our journey. Not alot moving along the river banks. You could see old hunting camps along the way. Was cool to see and think of all the history and adventures of hunters before me. We hit the Tuchodi and we could not believe how low the water was. The tail end pouring into the Muskwa seemed like a trickling brook. Massive rocks sticking out with water barely pouring into our river. We took time to have lunch and really investigate our route. After some full bellies and cold drinks, we decided it wasn’t worth the risk. We had some maps of some known ranges that held sheep and elk further up the Muskwa. It would be another half a day journey, so we loaded up and continued west.
We maneuvered the twists and turns of the Muskwa as the river took many forks and turns. Downed trees and low water made for some adventurous boating. We finally opened up into some mountain peaks and found what we came for. It was pretty much what I expected. Some wild mountains with big green peaks. There was more sign of hunting camps and people then I expected. I guess many before me have felt the draw to these hills. Without them we probably wouldn’t know it existed at all. We set up camp for the first night in hope of finding a trailhead up into sheep country. The skies were starting to get a bit hazy from the fire smoke. We hoped it would clear by morning so we could head on the first hunting adventure of the trip.
I awoke on day one to the sound of an elk bugle. I unzipped my tent and could hear the snores of my partners in their tents. I grabbed my bugle, my pack, and my rifle and headed out in search of finding the bull that woke me up. Large open aspen forest lined the bottom of valley. Lots of elk sign but no answer to my bugle or eyes on an animal yet. I finally pushed through to some large open meadows at the base of the hills. A lone cow elk was feeding in the meadow. I watched her for a while. Taking in the scenery and enjoying my first morning in the northern hills. I let a bugle go in hopes of luring in a curious bull. The cow jumped up and headed for the timbers. I was surprised at her reaction. Nonetheless, no bull answered so I figured I’d head back to camp to see what the plan was for the day.
As the morning sun started climbing, the smoke from the forest fires filled our valley. We decided that a days hike up for sheep would not be worth it with zero visibilty. We decided to head back into the hills around camp for elk and moose. The August heat was relentless. An afternoon nap on top of the mountain was much appreciated. I was happy to find many elk antlers and one large deadhead bull in the hills. An added prize to a beautiful hike.
A couple of days poking around for elk and moose , we came up dry for any game. The smoke and summer heat was too much to find anything up and moving in the daylight. We spent the rest of the trip exploring. Hiking into swamps for moose, cruising riverbanks in hope to catch something coming down for water. No luck. We did manage to find one spot where the skies cleared and we could spend sometime glassing the hillsides. We saw some mountain goats up high in the rocks. Some small elk herds feeding in the high grassy meadows. Although it was fun to watch we decided not to pursue the game with the access we had.
My first trip may not have been successful in filling the freezer, but the adventure sure satisfied my imagination and curiosity on what the North was like. It was definitely a fun memory and something to hold onto until I ventured north again.
A trip to remember
Steve Rodgers | Northern British Columbia
Fast forward a few years later. One of my main hunting partners and I decided we were ready to venture north for Moose and Caribou. Caribou has been on my bucket list as long as I can remember. They almost seemed like fairy-tale creatures as they live in such wild distant places. After a summer of planning, we headed out the last week of August to adventure once again. Lots of dreams and imagination running wild before that trip. I only hoped for a glimpse at a wild Caribou. Those huge majestic antlers lay on top of such a peculiar animal.. I shall keep details of our journey into our spot to protect the privacy and wildness of the area. Since this trip, the area has now been closed to Caribou to protect the species. Though I disagree with this particular area closure, anytime an animal is being protected under any measure is a good thing.
We nestled into a large valley with a wall tent as base camp. Comfy home for 10 days for the two of us. The first evening, as we staked the last spike and got ready for bed, three Caribou poked their heads up on the ridge above us . My heart warmed with excitement as that was it. The sight I had dreamt of all summer. My imagination ran wild all night. I could barely sleep with excitement for what the day would bring .
The first morning was brisk. A cold front was moving into our valley. Some light rain was pouring down. The smells of the foreign mountains filled the air. My senses were definitely on overload as the new smells only added to my excitement. My partner spotted a massive grizzly bear on an adjacent mountain chasing something down the mountain. I was definitely where I wanted to be. Where wild things live. We spent the morning glassing where the bear was for some Caribou. Not seeing anything, we decided to head up the range where we saw them the first evening. Like most big mountain peaks, the ascent was long and steep. We crested the top and had to sidehill some rock slides over to some open meadows up top. As far as you could look, there were meadows and mountains untouched by man. Really had to sit and take it in. I am lucky to have explored all over this amazing province. But to see that much untouched land truly was breathtaking. As we worked our glass over the landscape, we started to see small herds of caribou on distant mountain slopes. It would have been a days hike at least over to them, so we decided we would enjoy watching rather than pursuing. I finally spotted a small bull below us in the thick, wet meadow. He would bed down for a while. Then, get up and sprint in circles splashing in the wet meadow. We laughed at his antics and named him Forest Gump cause he just felt like running. It was truly a lucky first day in these majestic hills. Rain came and went, and we slowly made our way back to camp as the sun kissed the distant horizon.
The second day was spent glassing hillsides from camp. The odd caribou navigated the grass and rock hillsides. We spotted a few moose grazing in the morning. A storm was brewing as the day progressed. A light snow creeped in that evening, and we awoke to Nature’s rath. It was a huge mountain snowstorm. It would blow wind and snow for 30 straight hours. The wall tent, trying to lift off its stakes. Our extra weather tarp, lifting in the air like a leaf blowing in the wind. It was awesome, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. We weathered the storm and spent most of the next day putting camp back together and admiring the snow-covered August hills. Was quite the sight to see a white blanket over the bright green landscape. We planned for an adventure the following day back to Forest Gump Ridge. So far, the adventures of these northern hills had more than lived up to the hype.
We awoke to bright blue skies. The storm had moved out, and all that remained was the white blanket over the mountain peaks. We headed up to Gump Mountain. As we were almost at the top of the ridge , we stopped for a water break. We glassed the adjacent mountain. Then it happened . “Cap.” The one word from my partner that unleashed a lifelong dream. He spotted a good bull and herd of Caribou . I finally got a glimpse and could see multiple racks of bulls making their way up a creek bed to the top of the mountain . We knew we were in for an adventure as it was good descent down from where we were and a good climb back up to the caribou. We hit the big meadow at the bottom of the valley. Willows ,intertwined, made for quite the trek through the bottom. One slow-moving creek about 3 feet deep made for a quick dip across the meadow. As we beat willows and scrub, we started our ascent through jackpine trees. Lots of moose and caribou sign. They definitely hide well in the timbers. We broke out into the open and hiked hill after hill, trying to get closer to the herd. We finally crested and got a glimpse. We had to be about 800 yds away at first look. Our range finders couldn’t pick up distance as a light haze in the air prevented a clear reading. The herd was bedded in the rocks and had a clear 360-degree view from their roost. We were definitely exposed. We decided to slowly crawl, crouch, shimmy , from shrub to shrub. Making our way closer and closer , the minutes turned to hours as we carefully planned our path to the bou. We finally hit the 500 yd mark . Six hours from descending down from our original spot. I had spent lots of time on my rifle, so I was very comfortable at the distance. I just had to wait for my opportunity to present itself. One cow was very tentative and was definitely aware of our presence . We tried moving a few yards closer for a better rest, and the herd spooked. They busted out in full gallop, and I thought my chance was gone. The bigger bull trailed the herd and stopped for one last look. I held steady at 490 yds, slowly squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out across the mountain. The caribou disappeared over the mountain, except for one. I collected myself. Excitement overtaking me, I shed some tears. My hunting partner grabbed my hand in excitement and congratulated me on our day long stalk. It was still a hike up the last steep 500 yds. Through snow and rocks, we made it my bull. Words can’t express what I felt that day. The views. The smells. The magnificent animal whose life I had taken. He was unlike any animal I had ever seen. His velvet antlers had swirls of color. His dark summer coat shined against the snow-covered flora. I couldn’t stop admiring this beautiful animal that lie before me. We made some mountain meals and spent some time with my animal. Distant storms lit up the skies as we rested for the work still before us.
After the work was done deboning and caping the bull, we started our way down the mountain. The packs were heavy coming down the rocks. I didn’t like the way my knee felt, so I took some meat out and decided to use snow to our advantage and drag some weight down the steep stuff in snow. It made for a much easier pack down the steep snow into the melted valley bottom. This is where we should have loaded meat back in packs and made our way out. Or left a load on the mountain and returned the next day. As we struggled to sling meat bags over our tired shoulders, my hunting partner flung a bag over his shoulder and heard a huge tear. His shoulder was done. We later found out he had multiple tears that would require major surgery the following year. He left a pack of meat on the mountain and championed his way back with what he could on his back. I would return the next morning to retrieve that last load.
We had to cut the trip short to get back to attend to his injury. From the adventure into the mountains, the snowy storm, to the gruesome hunt up and down the mountain, we were humbled by the North. The memories are there forever. It’s hard to describe what it means to me to have these experiences. I’m not one to take for granted how lucky I am to be able to go on these adventures. The caribou meat far exceded my expectations as far as taste and quality. The odd pack still lingers in my freezer. I get excited everytime I see the words on the package. I’m transported back to the mountains. Thankful for the strong legs to climb the steep grades . Thankful for a hunting partner willing to sacrifice his shoulder to carry out my animal. It was truly an adventure of a lifetime and if for some reason life never takes me back to those hills, I am satisfied and honored to have participated in being a part of such a wild place for a brief moment in time.
Steve Rodgers