by Boone
I removed my shooting glove, checked my firearm, and ensured myself that my scope was on low power. I was carrying a .300 Magnum Browning BBR, a companion on countless previous hunting trips.
The game of simply following a track in the snow had transformed into a cautious pursuit. The pursuit remained much the same as the previous three hours — in and out of the timber along the course of Kala Creek, going upstream. The sun was still low in the clear eastern sky and morning shadows were long. Once more, I followed the grizzly’s shortcut across a narrow point of land at the bend in the creek channel. I had broken with the morning’s discipline of not following the track into the timber when I couldn’t see bear tracks in the snow in the creek on the far side. The point of land here, though narrow, was of higher elevation. There was very little plant understory.
I felt secure, and assumed the bear had simply returned to the open channel on the upstream side. The giant bear had not! Once in the trees, the grizzly had come across a maze of moose tracks along the far bank and elected to follow them — and travel by stepping into the tracks left by the moose!
I no longer had a clear picture of where the bear was. I scanned the creek channel upstream and downstream — no bear tracks. My attention turned to the moose tracks at my feet. I couldn’t discern which direction the bear had gone. I looked to my left and spotted a form that didn’t fit with its surroundings. I shouldered the rifle and peered through the scope at the strange form. It was the grizzly! The bear was facing me head-on, while standing with front feet atop a downed tree. It was huge! The bear’s intent stare told me it had seen me before I saw it. The grizzly was too close! I knew full well it was a mere few seconds away. A charging, running bear can outrun anything afoot in these parts.
As the safety came off and my finger found the trigger, my mind was asking the question of what would happen next. Would the bear turn and run at the shot, or would it come for me? The rifle fired and I quickly worked the bolt to chamber a fresh round. As if in slow motion, the bear reared up, roared, threw its head back with front paws high in the air and tumbled over backwards. Then all was quiet. The grizzly got up momentarily behind the blowdown timber and then sank out of sight. It remained quiet!
As it turned out, the bear had been napping behind some blowdown timber along the creek bank, in a bed it had prepared for itself by scratching away the two feet of snow and ice down to bare earth. Remaining hidden through my approach, it had heard me approaching, or possibly caught my scent in the variable breeze that was blowing, and got up.
I looked at my watch. It was 11:45 a.m. I waited a full 10 minutes before walking in a big semicircle around the bear on the creek side. The grizzly had tumbled backwards down the bank into the creek channel. I approached cautiously. When close enough to lob in some tree branch projectiles, I did so, to ensure the animal was dead. As I got close enough to use the gun barrel, I poked the grizzly with it to ensure no life was left. The bullet had struck the bear at the midpoint of its sternum and traveled the length of the body, stopping just under the hide of its right hip. The 200-grain bullet had done its job.
The animal was in excellent physical condition, but with very little body fat remaining. It was an old bear with some long-ago healed dental problems, likely created by an encounter with a flying moose hoof. I had been on the track since 8:00 a.m., having followed it for over five miles on foot.
There was a healthy bounce in my step as I returned to where I had last parked the snow machine. I carefully guided the snowmobile up the creek from where it was parked and was able to maneuver to where the grizzly lay. Skinning the animal was easy, other than the two feet of soft snow, which made it difficult to turn the animal over.
It was an interesting ride for the two of us on the snow machine during the trip home. The distance to my home’s back door from where the bear fell was 35 miles.
This was my first grizzly. At this point, I knew I had harvested a nice trophy, but had no idea how big the bear really was!
I called a taxidermist in North Pole to tell him what I had. Charlie Livingston of Alaska Wilderness Arts and Taxidermy was skeptical, at best, as I described the size of the animal to him. “How big? You have to be kidding!” he said.
Mr. Livingston had worked with scores of grizzly trophies and had not seen anything like I described. Unofficially green-scored by Glenn Stout, and subsequently by Mr. Livingston, it was pointed out that it may be within a few sixteenths of the World’s Record grizzly.
The news that I had taken a big grizzly passed through Galena quickly. Galena, a traditional Native Athabaskan community, consists of about 650 people. Though half white now in cultural mix, many Natives still adhere to a lifestyle dependent upon natural resources. The interior grizzly is respected and typically not hunted alone. Many were in awe of the notion that I went out on a solo bear hunt.
I returned to the kill site the following weekend to reflect on the last moments of this hunt. I collected the moose antler the grizzly had dug up and chewed on. I measured the distance from where I was standing when I shot to where the bear was located at point of bullet impact. It was only 38 yards!
I am certain that it was this bear that had left the large tracks Glenn and I had spotted earlier. There aren’t that many big grizzlies out there. Most larger interior Alaska grizzlies taken by hunters measure six to seven feet in length. This one measured 8 feet 3 inches! This animal clearly is a trophy of 10 lifetimes.
To be able to step out and hunt from one’s back door and do a day-trip grizzly hunt is easy enough to do when living in rural “bush” Alaska. To cross paths with a Boone and Crockett bear is an entirely different matter. Mr. Livingston advised me, “My friend, you will not outdo this monster ever again.”
Photo from B&C Archives
Alaska Brown Bear, Scoring 29-14/16 Points, Taken by Cindy L. Rhodes on Alaska’s Aliulik Peninsula, in 1997.
The Granny and Andy Show
By Cindy L. Rhodes
23rd Big Game Awards Program
MY HUSBAND, DOUG, AND I HAD BEEN APPLYING FOR ALASKA BROWN BEAR PERMITS FOR SEVERAL YEARS. I WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO DRAW A PERMIT IN THE EARLY 90S, BUT WAS UNSUCCESSFUL IN GETTING A BEAR. THESE PERMITS ARE NOT EASY TO COME BY. A LOT OF OUR FRIENDS HAVE APPLIED FOR MANY YEARS FOR VARIOUS HUNTS AND HAVE NEVER DRAWN. WE ALL WAITED ANXIOUSLY FOR THE NEWSPAPER TO COME SO WE COULD READ THE PERMIT SUPPLEMENT. THIS LISTING SHOWED ALL THE PERMIT RECIPIENTS FOR EACH HUNT: GOAT, SHEEP, BISON, BEAR, ETC. THIS PARTICULAR YEAR, WE RECEIVED THE PAPER LATE AND IN THE MEANTIME, SEVERAL OF OUR FRIENDS HAD CALLED TO SAY WE HAD NOT DRAWN A PERMIT FOR ANYTHING. NEEDLESS TO SAY, WE WERE FEELING EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED, AGAIN.
Over coffee the next morning, I scanned through the list again. There it was, my name under brown bear. I sat looking at the paper to make sure it was really me. My husband walked into the room a minute later to hear a very fast-talking wife telling him how all our friends were crazy and, “Look! Here’s my name under the brown bear permits.” We were both very excited. Later that day our good friend and Master Guide, Andy Runyan of Exclusive Alaskan Hunts, called with congratulations. He offered to take me on a 14-day spring bear hunt, which even got me more excited. We’ve known Andy for many years and his ability and expertise is unsurpassed. He has had the same hunting area for over 30 years. The next order of business was planning the trip.
We decided to fly to Kodiak a couple days before the hunt. Even after six months to prepare, I still needed a little time to get my mind focused on the task ahead. We arrived in camp on April 14, 1997. The flight over from Anchorage offered spectacular scenery. Andy and his assistant guide, Craig Rose, were on the beach waiting for us when we landed. Andy has a real cozy cabin, and we all sat around the table discussing what we would do the next day. I recall being anxious, excited, nervous, and sleepless all at the same time.
The next morning came with sunshine and little wind. We loaded into the skiff and motored down the bay three miles to a lookout point where we could sit an
d glass. I started glassing and I spotted this huge rock bear. I watched him for awhile and then pointed him out to Andy. Andy looked at mine and then showed me a bear he had been watching for some time. Oh my God! It was huge and bigger than the one I was looking at. Okay, now I knew what I was looking for. Doug was giving his eyes a rest when he looked down. There was a bear on the beach below us. He pointed it out to Andy who said, “Oh, that’s a beach bunny.” She was small and rubbed badly. Andy said she looked like Abe Lincoln with leg warmers. He obviously knew the bears in his hunting area very well.
Doug and I own the Brown Bear Rhodehouse in Glennallen, Alaska, and we are used to 12 to 14 hours on our feet, so all this sitting around was getting to me. I stood up to stretch and let out a groan. Doug said, “What’s the matter Granny, you getting stoved up?” (We have six beautiful grandkids.) Well, Andy thought that was really funny and from then on we were known as “The Granny and Andy Show.”
On the fourth day we went back to the lookout. We had seen bears every day and today was no exception. We were glassing the facing mountainside and spotted two bears, both of which were a good size. They were in the high country, heading over the mountain. I was hunting for a big male with a good, clean hide. You don’t run across one of these every day. We glassed until just before sundown and those two bears were the only ones we saw.
On day-five we awoke to heavy cloud cover and lots of wind, but by midmorning it had cleared. The weather had treated us well so far; in fact, I had one heck of a sunburn on my face. This was unusual since the weather in April is notoriously bad on Kodiak.
Andy took us to another spot where he had taken several good bears in the past. We climbed the mountainside for a mile and a half and began glassing. After a few hours, Andy spotted a really good size bear on the facing mountain. We watched him for a while until he started heading over the other side of the mountain. Andy said he knew where he was going to come out, so down the mountain we went. On the way down, I saw the grass moving. All of a sudden I was looking into two big black eyes! It was an otter, and I was delighted to see him, but I don’t think the feeling was mutual. He took off through the grass heading for the ocean. I got a real kick out of that. When we reached the skiff, we traveled about halfway back to camp, landed, and headed up the mountain again to the spot where Andy said the bear was going to show. Sure enough, about an hour later, here he came over the side of the mountain. Andy hates to be right. He was a big bear, and we watched him zigzag back and forth across the mountainside before he disappeared in an alder patch. We never did see him again.
On the sixth day the weather was still holding, but I wasn’t too sure about myself. All the hiking up steep terrain and mountain climbing was getting to my legs. We went back to the same spot as the day before and glassed all day, not seeing a thing. We still enjoyed the day. It was very peaceful listening to the ocean.
The next morning at breakfast we decided to go back to our original lookout point. We spent two more days at this spot and saw bear, but they were either females or rubbed. The weather was starting to get ugly — clouds, rain, and cold wind — so we decided to head back to camp. Andy told me he knew of another good spot and that we would head that way the next morning. On our way back to camp we saw plenty of deer and fox. We had a good dinner and went to bed early because Andy said tomorrow was going to be a hard day.
It was a three-mile ride in the skiff to where we tied up and started walking. We walked for awhile and then started up the beach. There were boulders the size of pickups littering the beach. It was tough going. We came to a spot where a freshwater creek was flowing, filled our water bottles and took a short break. When we started walking again, Andy stopped and looked straight up. I looked at him like he was crazy.
He said, “Yep, up there.” We started climbing up the side of the mountain without much to get a foot-hold on. It was steep, with lots of sand and clay. We made it about three-quarters of the way up to an alder patch where we stopped to take a short break. Being only 4’11”, the brush was slapping me on the face pretty good. I was having a hell of a time, and my Ruger 7x57 kept getting hung up. I was resting in the crook of the alders and wondering just where in the hell Andy was going. I’m 40 years old and Andy is 68, so I was thinking it can’t be too much farther or neither one of us will make it. We took off again, climbing straight up. Finally we reached the top, to a spectacular sight of mountains, ocean, creeks, and gullies. It was breathtaking.
Once we got situated and started glassing, it wasn’t long until we spotted a nice bear meandering on the mountain straight ahead of us. The weather was now getting really bad. We hunkered down and kept watching as the bear started up over the other side of the mountain. We spotted another bear that was doing the same thing, wandering up the mountainside. We decided we had better start heading back to camp because of weather, and it was getting late in the day. Just as we stood up, Andy and I both looked over to our left.
Oh my God! Here he came and he was huge! We looked at each other and Andy said, “Let’s go Granny!”
We started running down the mountain trying to keep that bear in sight. When we reached the base of the mountain, I needed to stop and catch my breath. I also needed to shed some clothing. Once I got my wind back, we started walking again, crossing several creeks.
After crossing the last creek, Andy turned and said, “Do you see him?”
“No,” I said. Then Andy pointed to a little tuft of fur and we quietly crept through the last creek and got into some tall grass. Like I said earlier, I’m not very tall. As I knelt in the grass I couldn’t see anything. We sat quietly for a minute and Andy motioned that we should move closer. When we started to move, the bear threw his head over his shoulder and stared at us. He was wallowing in a deep mud hole and here he came.
I’ve always been told to shoot a bear so far below his hump. Unfortunately, Mr. Bear was not turning for the proper shot. I waited and waited for him to turn.
Finally, Andy said, “Cindy, ARE YOU GOING TO SHOOT THAT BEAR?”
This guy was coming, and fast. I had no other choice but to shoot him between the eyes. My mind was reeling. Andy said once more, “Cindy, SHOOT THAT @#*& BEAR!” I had my rifle up and all I could see was fur through my scope. I squeezed the trigger and my Ruger 7x57 with the Leupold scope did its job. The Barnes, 160-grain bullet hit home right between his eyes and I quickly had another one on the way. All my friends kept saying that I should have a larger caliber, but my 7x57 had been modified to fit me perfectly. As far as I’m concerned, shot placement is a lot more important than caliber.
Andy had his range finder with him. It was 22 yards from where we stood to where the bear dropped. Andy looked at me and asked, “Are you okay Granny?”
He said that when I looked at him to answer, my mouth was a little circle and my eyes were huge. I said, “Uh huh.” Then I started shaking. I couldn’t believe how close he came and how awesome he was. When I got up the courage to go see him up close, I was amazed at what a beautiful animal he was. He was muddy and soaking wet but I was still able to tell he had a beautiful hide with no visible rubs. His claws were six inches or better and in excellent shape. I was so excited and overjoyed. This was the experience of a lifetime and I will never forget it. With much respect and admiration, I thank you, Andy, from the bottom of my heart.
My bear green scored 29-15/16, and after the 60-day drying period scored 29-14/16. The hide squared 10 feet 6 inches.
Image from B&C Archives
Original score chart for Cindy Rhode’s Alaska brown bear, which scores 29-14/16 points.
Photo from B&C Archives
Alaska Brown Bear, Scoring 29-3/16 Points, Taken by Robert M. Ortiz near Deadman Bay, Alaska, in 2001.
Monarch of Deadman Bay II
By Robert M. Ortiz
25th Big Game Awards Program
I SPENT MANY EVENINGS ADMIRING THE PHOTOS OF THE MAGNIFICENT TROPHIES AND READING THROUGH THE RECORDED ENTRIES THAT WERE IN THE 11TH EDITION O
F THE BOONE AND CROCKETT CLUB’S Records of North American Big Game. AFTER AWHILE, I TOLD MYSELF, “I’M GOING TO HUNT ALASKA, AND I THINK I’LL START BY HUNTING THE BIGGEST AND MEANEST BEARS AROUND.”
It was the fall of 2000, and I set my sights on an area in the southwestern part of Kodiak Island called Deadman Bay. After a few phone calls, I got in touch with Alaskan Guide Tom Kirstein to inquire about hunting Deadman Bay for Alaska brown bears. Tom caught me off guard by responding, “Well, I actually have an opening for this coming spring. You interested?”
I guess I must have been. On April 29 of the following spring, my companion, Tonya Buxton, and I found ourselves in Kodiak, Alaska, some several thousand miles away from our home state of New Mexico.
The next day, and after several hours in the air just above Kodiak’s rugged, snow-capped peaks, we landed via floatplane at the headwaters of Deadman Bay. Upon our arrival we were greeted by guide Tom Kirstein, assistant guide Jeff Poor, videographer Doyle Moss, and hunters Jim and Angie Ryan. Everyone was very courteous and sincere in welcoming us to the great hunt. After the formal greetings and so forth, our gear was carried over to the bear camp, which sat nestled in the thick alders several hundred yards away.
The camp consisted of three aged wooden structures. The largest of the three was considered the main cabin, and it had two rooms. One room contained a kerosene stove, sink, dining table, and some shelving, while the other contained a few sets of bunks for sleeping. The main cabin was a place that lent warmth to our bodies at the beginning and at the end of each hunt day. It was also the place where we enjoyed our early morning breakfasts and our end-of-the-day dinners, not as guides and hunters, but as newly-made friends.
