Remembering
It was September 17th, 2001.
The rain had been falling for what seemed like weeks. This morning the sun was out with a crispness in the air. Everything was still wet from the rain, and I knew my binoculars would be wet too.
I had forgotten them on the log just over the rise from camp, where I had been watching the moose crossing.
I left Lin in camp because I was only going to go get my wet binos, and then come back for grub.
The half mile hike hurt more than usual. I had 39 staples in my gut from a cancer operation only a couple of weeks before.
I hated to have the surgery, but there are a few things that must not be put off too long.
The Doctor wouldn't let me wait until moose season was over.
Even the drive into camp was horrible. The road was full of chuck-holes and I felt them all for the 25 miles back into camp. At one point I stopped driving long enough to tie a pillow around my waist to help support the mess in my belly.
Lin was driving the other rig so I had to drive the truck with the camper. Two weeks was a tad too soon to be out in the bush, but it was moose season, and that's worth the pain.
On this morning I just arrived at the log pile and picked up the wet binos, when I caught a movement on the brushy ridge to my left.
At first I thought it was the ornery old grizz that had been bugging us, but soon I saw the cow.
The grass was shoulder high on the cow and I could only see the top of her back. That's the reason I thought it was the bear.
I watched the cow for ten minutes as she moved down the hillside, and then I saw the big horns of the bull.
He was holding back waiting for the cow to clear the way.
All I could see was his horns in the brush, and I could see that he was well over the 50 inch spread that was neccessary to be legal.
I rested the 375 Magnum over the log and waited.
The Doctor had said that I could only lift a gallon of milk. I told him that was about what the 375 weighed.
The kick from the big bore rifle pushed me back in a big stitch ripping jolt.
I chambered another round and dropped the big bull about 50 yards from the trail.
Then I sat down and wiped the tears from my eyes from the pain.
Lin heard the two shots from camp, and came running over the hill. She thought it was the bear because I had to shoot two times.
By the time she got there I had walked to the bull and was trying to figure out how I was going to get the meat down to the trail and back to camp.
She wouldn't let me do anything. She skinned the moose, cut it into eight pieces, bagged it up and threattened me every inch of the way.
We used a box cart that I brought along for such an occassion. We tied the bags on and pulled them all down to the trail.
I called the Alaska Fish and Game Warden and got permission to move my camp over the hill to where the meat was stacked. It was during a "no vehicle", lock down time, so normally a vehicle can't be driven.
We camped by the bags of meat for three more days, making sure that old grizz couldn't get at it.
I have had a few folks ask why I was out there in the condition I was in, and I told them that it was much better than sitting around watching tv. That's probably why I healed so fast.
Having fun is always good for anthing that ails the body.
That mean old nurse made me walk the next day after surgery anyways. I was just making her happy too.
The big bull was 54 inches wide and about 900 pounds of cut meat.
The following years have found us back there in the same place.
My brother, Gibby, killed his first moose near the same place.
Living in Alaska is fullfilling a dream. We have these kinds of adventures every month of the year. Most of them are on DVD's. Otherwise a lot of folks wouldn't believe any of this.
The most difficult decision is trying to figure out what to do.
Bubba n Lin Hunt, walking "The Wilderness Trail"