North of the Border: Three Kings

North of the Border

Three Kings
By Annette Leeds

If you have not been to Alaska yet, then I suggest that you change whatever plans you may have and visit Alaska - pronto! I can only describe my own trip to Alaska as breathtaking and more rewarding than any other place that I have been - hunting or otherwise. Fortunately for me, not only was this trip about hunting, it was about me getting the chance to hunt the Alaskan Barren Ground caribou. Ever since I can remember, the two game species that I have always wanted to pursue were the Alaskan moose and the Alaskan Barren Ground caribou. Somehow, this dream always seemed to elude me, but not this time.

For the last 25 years, I have been the co-owner of Tru-Life Taxidermy Studio Inc. located in southern California. We are the premier Taxidermy Studio here on the coast and have a huge base of clients ranging from the wealthy, the famous, and hunters and huntresses from all walks of life. Amazingly, 70% of our clientele are from out of state.

My hunt began around February or March when a small group of clients came to our taxidermy studio and asked my husband, Steve, to book a caribou hunt with an Alaskan guide of Steve’s recommendation. In our neck of the woods, this is not unusual considering that our taxidermy company has been around so long. We are very familiar with the hunting industry and its guides. By the second or third visit to discuss the caribou hunt with us at Tru-Life, this group of clients was serious about booking. Steve and I felt the only choice was Mel Gillis’ Sandy River Camp. In no time, the caribou trip started to look like a reality and possibly a trip for me as well. I knew that this could be the opportunity for me to live out my dream of hunting caribou.

By summer’s end, I had convinced Steve that we should go with Rick Lamb, Mike Woodin, and Bill Batchelor and visit Mel Gillis at his lodge at Sandy River. Thankfully, it did not take much discussion and we were on our way to Alaska.

Mel Gillis is the seasoned and accomplished owner and guide of Sandy River Lodge and has been a friend of ours for some time. Sandy River Lodge allows opportunities to hunt silver and king salmon, moose, brown bear, wolf, caribou and some birds. Mel boasts a great personality and loves to play tricks on people. He insists on calling me Anita. He knows full well that my name is Annette, but he insists on calling me Anita all the time. Mel is a great guy, and a true gentleman. Before I knew it, September had arrived and we were headed to Alaska and the Sandy River Lodge.

Our first day at the lodge started early and we were introduced to our guides. My guide was J.J. Adams. J.J. was quiet; but, boy, what a great guy. During the next few hours, we sighted in our rifles and made our plans for the hunt. We were then driven to the fast and beautiful Sandy River where each excited hunter was loaded onto a boat with their gear and rations and whisked away for the day’s hunt.

Day one started out beautifully; the sky was clear and the sun was shining. We rode up the Sandy River at a good clip for about thirty minutes and then pulled into a small alcove by the river’s edge. J.J. and I jumped out and he explained that we would travel inland to a nice knoll where we could glass. We walked for about two miles before we arrived at the knoll. We climbed to the top of the knoll and all three of us began to glass for caribou. Unfortunately, after two hours of glassing, it became clear that all of the caribou in the area were small at best. We decided to go back to the boat and move upstream to fish for silvers. We traveled two or three miles upriver to a sandy spot of fast moving water and stopped to fish. The area was quiet and very beautiful. The trees and bushes were lush and the water was a deep emerald green with veins of darker and lighter green running through it where the water runs deeper and shallow, like so many grain layers in wood. After a brief time, J.J. had me standing in the shallows rigged up and was explaining how the fish hide and where I should expect to get hits from these river torpedoes. Picture this, a blonde from California, who has never caught anything larger than a fresh water crappie, attempting to land a silver salmon. The very thought of catching a big fish was very exciting. I began casting that Rapala Striped Devil lure into the current. It was not long before I was hit and in a battle with a nice-sized silver salmon. My first fish was so magnificent that I could hardly believe I had landed it. I caught more fish, and only lost one. I was tired, excited, and addicted to fishing. I saved some fish to take home and then we packed up and went back to the lodge.

When we got to the lodge, we discovered that Rick Lamb and Mike Woodin had both just called in with phenomenal caribou. As luck would have it, the herds with the big bulls were out in their direction. Caribou move at a constant ground-covering pace that is almost impossible to match. Catching up and getting a kill shot can be quite difficult in this vast open territory. Both Rick and Mike had killed their caribou late in the day, and were just now on their way into camp.

The next couple of days were filled with hard crawling, stalks, and double-time jaunts after a couple of herds that ended up containing only small, immature bulls. I wasn’t disappointed at all. In fact, it made me more persistent in my attempts to find a great bull soon. To treat myself for the effort, J.J. and I would quickly sneak to the river near camp for silvers and Dolly Varden at the end of each day while Steve filmed the action.

The next day was a bit more productive, and I actually got a good look through my binoculars at a really great bull. The bull was really far away, and it was very difficult to catch up to herd he was with. After calling it a day, we arrived back at camp to find that Bill Batchelor had killed a beautiful caribou with a great set of antlers. Bill’s bull had main beams that laid out flat and low to the sides before turning up. And, just like Mike and Rick’s caribou, Bill’s bull scored really well.

The next morning was rainy and gray, with little hope that the weather would clear. The gray, rainy weather made it very difficult to judge antlers with binoculars, not to mention walking, stalking and staying warm. We went up the river and tried glassing for several hours, moving periodically to new areas. The plan now was to go wherever we wanted because there were no longer any hunters to intrude on. By mid-day, we had walked several miles and decided to take a break near a salmon counter built in the river. There was a small wooden shed there that we rested against just to break up our outline as we got a bite to eat. The three of us talked and schemed about which way the weather was moving when suddenly, out of nowhere, a herd of caribou materialized on the horizon. We immediately bent over to minimize our outlines and tried a fast sneak. I knew we needed to get closer just to be able to see the antler quality. The stalk was grueling, to say the least, and trying to breathe while bent over for long periods of time was extremely difficult. As we glassed, J.J. noticed that the herd was moving in an arc and had not seen us. This meant that we could head them off by going far enough ahead of them on the arc they were following. At first, we stalked slightly parallel to the herd to determine which bull had the best antlers. For some reason, we could not see any of the antlers on the bulls at the end of the herd. J.J. and I strained our eyes trying to see just one definitive rack. After quite some time and noticeable eye straining, I suggested to J.J. that there were more than two great bulls hanging out together. The bull’s close proximity to one another was causing the confusing visual appearance of one set of antlers. J.J. agreed with my observation, but brought up some good points. First, was that these bulls must be massive and that we needed to just close in and try to kill one. Two, the afternoon was almost gone and we had little time left to make a stalk. And three, we only had two days left to hunt and it appeared that the weather was becoming less cooperative each day. After thinking it over, I suggested that we follow the herd until dark, put them to bed, and then try a shot at the bulls first thing in the morning. J.J. said that the herd would still move in the dark and that it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. We followed the herd while bent over for about an hour before darkness set in. We put the caribou to bed and headed home. After a long hike back to the quad, we had a wet bumpy ride over the tundra knobs back to the lodge.

We got back to the lodge late and, as was to be expected, everyone else had come in at a normal time, eaten their dinners and were resting. I was almost finished eating when Mel walked through the door. He asked J.J. what was going on and, after J.J. had given him a brief summary, he immediately looked over the top of his reading glasses and winked at me. He had that Mel Gillis smile going and I knew then that I was in good hands. Mel said that he knew of the herd we had found and where they were heading. He explained that earlier in the season when he was flying supplies to camp, he had noticed the big bulls in this herd. After a couple of flights, he had a better idea of where they migrated to and from. Mel said that none of his hunters or guides had ever seen this herd and mentioned it, so he had forgotten about them. We listened carefully and made a plan. Mel agreed with J.J. and didn’t think that the herd would stay where we had left them. However, he did tell us how far he thought they would go to be safe in the dark. There was an area of level, brushy willows where we would likely find them at first light. That was enough for us to start with and we had two hunting days to succeed.

The next morning, we arrived at the brushy willows a bit late. The area was flat and spotted with huge willows – it made sneaking in on the herd tough. As we snuck from willow to willow, we would stop and glass the brushy areas. Moving along, we caught a glimpse of one small, lone bull cantering through the willows away from us. He stopped, turned around, looked at us, and faded into the thicket. We were back in the game.

After about an hour of moving back and forth through the thicket, we spotted four huge bulls at about 250 yards. The three of us huddled together and watched in amazement as these huge bulls traversed over an embankment and out of sight. Now the bulls were 350 yards away on a higher elevation and we could not see them. I knew that the elevated embankment that the bulls had just gone over was the wall of a small river wash. All of these bulls were exceptional and I knew that I would take the first bull that gave me an opportunity.

J.J. started to move and I followed as we rushed to the embankment. It was steeper than it appeared and I was very much out of breath. Steve was right behind me with the video camera. J.J. looked through his binos and said, “I can see them, they’re standing out in the grass grazing. They’re all Booners.” I quietly traded positions with J.J., crawled five yards to some saplings and used J.J.’s pack to steady my rifle. The wind was blowing a bit harder now and it was moving from my left to my right. I carefully scanned the antlers on each bull. After seconds of private deliberation, the committee in my head picked a bull that was about 275 yards away as having the biggest rack. I quickly looked through the scope to find the bull and laid the crosshairs of my Leupold 3.5 X10 Mark III scope on the middle of his neck. I never flinched and saw my bull collapse in a heap. As I stood up and chambered another round I heard J.J. yell, “Nice neck shot!” I was elated.

My husband said nothing, but as I turned to him he had a big smile on his face and the one eye that was not blocked by the viewfinder was about six inches wide. J.J. quickly moved up to me, hugged me, and then we both walked to the downed bull.

As we got closer, the caribou bull appeared to grow larger and larger with every stride.

I could not take my eyes off of him for one second. Before I knew it, I was standing over a very large and traditionally uniform Alaskan caribou bull. I reached out to touch him but, as I did, I heard J.J. say, “Annette look up.” I spun around to see the other three bulls looking back at us. They were standing shoulder to shoulder perfectly silhouetted against a blue sky. I stared at them in amazement of their beauty and grace. They looked like three kings standing there with their massive antlers. The stare lasted only seconds and the three massive bulls vanished into the tundra. I regrouped my thoughts by looking back at J.J. and admiring the bull on the ground. We took tons of pictures and video and took the time to watch the kill shot on Steve’s camera.

It was not long before we were back at the lodge and the guys were eating crow. As we stood there admiring my caribou and his clearly larger antlers Mel said, “Okay, boys, this is what they really look like.” I could not help but chuckle.

It was a great hunt and I truly made some great friends and learned new things about the ones I already had. Even today, I’m not certain that the bull that I killed was the largest of the four. However, my bull officially scored at 481 2/8. He had double shovels and huge Bez horns. The antlers were the largest I have ever seen. One had thirteen points on it and the other had eleven countable points. Both the main beams are about 59 inches long.

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