Bob Nosler, president of the Nosler, Inc.,
probably said it best: “When you fly on a
float plane over an hour north of Yellowknife into the tundra of the Northwest Territories, you have embarked on an "Adventure
Hunt."
Nosler, Inc., manufacturers of superb bullets,
in conjunction with the NRA (represented
on the hunt by Nicole Capossela of the national
headquarters, and Coley Jackson, regional
rep) had arranged for a dozen hunters, including
Chapter Members Jim Gladden, Coley, Nicole,
and myself, plus Team Nosler (President Bob
Nosler, son John Nosler, CFO Mark Roberts
and outside counsel Paul Fortino) and four
other hunters from around the U.S. to enjoy
such an adventure. From various parts of the U.S. all of us
Twin Otter float plane takes us to
caribou camp on Lac de
Gras
|
 |
rendezvoused in the Edmonton Airport for a few drinks and last minute plans before
heading to Yellowknife and beyond. Yellowknife is 947 miles north
of Edmonton and sits on
the north shore of
Great Slave Lake (which
is larger than either
Lakes Erie or Ontario) in the NWT. The town has a rich history of mining for
precious metals and most recently diamonds. For you History Channel buffs, Yellowknife is frequently featured on “Ice Road Truckers”
because of their runs to
the diamond mines. The lakes in the NWT are frozen about 40
weeks per year. Because Yellowknife is as far as we could go by commercial flights,
the hunting party overnighted
in Yellowknife’s Chateau Nova, before boarding a twin turbo
prop Otter float plane to caribou camp on
Lac de Gras. This lake was much smaller than
Great Slave Lake, but we would all learn to respect the lake
before this trip ended.
Our great expectations for the hunt got a
dose of reality as the Otter coasted to the
dock on Lac de Gras, only 50 miles from the
Arctic Circle. Waiting for the returning trip were the
hunters from the week just
ended. Fifteen
hunters had taken just
one respectable bull
and two meat animals. The
hunters had suffered
warm temperatures, incessant
bug attacks
and an empty tundra.
Tents at Lac de Gras
 |
|
Despite this ominous greeting, we cheerfully
met the staff, received
our assignments of
hunting partners, tent
cabins and Inuit guides.
The remainder of the day
was spent sighting
in our rifles, learning
how to operate the
kerosene stoves in the
tent cabins, and converting
the tents into our homes
for the coming week.
The camp was circled by
a high voltage fence
powered by a diesel generator
to keep the
bears at bay.
All of us were shooting some kind of 7 mm
or .30 cal cartridge topped with Nosler Accubonds
or Partitions. Most of us had never killed
a caribou, so this would be new territory
for all but the Nolser team. Prior to sighting
in our rifles we spotted a lone white wolf
circling the camp at about 500 yds distance.
Because Canada has the no-shoot on the day of flight rule,
we could only drool while our respective
wolf tags burned holes in our pockets.
At 6:30 p.m. we gathered in the dining Quonset hut for
an outstanding dinner prepared by the two
camp cooks who never left the camp during
the 6-week caribou season. Dinner conversation
centered on getting to know a little about
each other and our respective hunting experiences.
Interestingly about one-third of the group
had never before hunted outside the U.S.
At 7:15 the next morning, opening day of
our hunt, each team met its guide at the
dock. All of us were dressed in waterproof gear
for protection from the spray, wind, and
any rain which could and did appear unpredictably
from time to time.
Our conveyance to the hunting areas consisted
of 16-foot aluminum boats with 30 horse engines,
fitted with cushioned seats. With a modest
wind and 40 degree temperature, the first
day’s boat trip to spot caribou was not unpleasant.
Nicole and I hunted with our guide Dave,
veteran of several years of guiding and a
lifetime of hunting. Finally after a ride
of 2 ˝ hours, Dave spotted antlers of a bedded
bull about a half mile up a modest rise of
tundra.
We disembarked after pulling off the rain
suits and put on the sneak until we were
within 125 yards of the bull. Sensing something
unusual, the bull and three cows rose to
their feet. We froze in place. Nicole placed
her Nosler Model 48 in .300WSM on a tripod and slipped a 180 grain Accubond
into the bull’s heart and
lungs. The animal
staggered but maintained
its feet until another
Accubond put it on the
ground.
Nicole Capossela
and Her First Caribou
 |
|
Following the ritual photos, Dave set to
work butchering the “bou.” Nicole recorded the process for posterity
and I chambered a round, keeping a sharp
eye out for resident grizzlies. Dave had
been charged a couple of times during the
prior two years and saw this as a necessary
precaution.
Unlike the standard procedure for field dressing
whitetails, the Inuits flay the hide off
the caribou carcass and remove the back straps
and front and back legs. The legs are then
boned so that only the hams, tender loins,
and neck meat is packed out. The skeleton
and guts are left for the bears, wolves and
birds of prey. Any meat not to be taken home by hunters
was still packed out and distributed to local
needy families.
About the time Dave completed his work on
Nicole’s animal, two more bulls, bigger than
the one on the ground crested a hill about
600-700 yards out, never to be seen again.
Dave loaded his pack with the meat, Nicole
loaded the head and antlers
on her pack,
and I picked up the guns
for the hike back
to the boat.
Nicole Carrying Out
Her Head and Antlers
|
 |
As luck would have it, after traveling down
the lake for several miles, we spotted Jim
and Coley who had already pulled onto a sandy
bank for lunch. Dave drifted our craft slowly into shore
with the caribou prominently displayed in
the bow of the boat. Jim and Coley got the
point! We all appreciated the great hot soup and
sandwich lunches packed by the camp cooks.
By day’s end a new camp ritual began to emerge.
As each boat came into the camp bay, those
already back in camp would make their way
to the beach to see who had succeeded and
how outstanding their trophies were. The
first day’s take yielded 6 nice bulls and
a piece of critical information. Two of the
hunters encountered a mass of 2500 animals,
clearly indicating that the migration was
underway. The hours of looking for two, three
or ten animals were about to give way to
evaluating hundreds or even thousands of
animals.
Spirits soared at dinner as we all shared
our expectations for the morrow. Because all the guides knew where the migration
was emerging, I expected some interesting
tactics to be employed in an effort to gain
an advantage in the morning. Nicole and I agreed to hit the dock early
to gain an advantage. Even Jim, who dislocated (and relocated)
his knee during the first
afternoon, was
fired up.
Great swimmers, Caribou
are safe while in the
water
 |
|
The great anticipation of the evening was
significantly dampened the next morning by
overcast skies, 30° temperature and 40 mph wind. Nicole and I both hit the dining hall at
6:00 am to facilitate our planned early departure.
What we soon came to appreciate was that
high wind brought with it high waves on the
lake. Those little aluminum vessels would
rise with the 4-foot waves and then slam
into the trough behind, rise and slam, rise
and slam--for an hour and a half. Frankly
we all hung on tightly to avoid being tossed
into the 36 degree water. Even with life jackets, hypothermia would
mean the end in short order. But we survived the harrowing trip out to
find a huge herd of animals spread over several
acres of rolling tundra on our left. We slid into shore and ripped off the wet
gear, unsheathed the rifles and headed into
the hills. It took all of about 20 minutes
to spot a monster bull.
We attempted to cut off the herd a couple
of times but succeeded only in reversing
their direction. I had my bull in the scope at least twice,
but he was moving fast and was surrounded
by cows. Dave devised a new strategy after
surveying the direction of the movement.
Off to the left we marched over a steep rock
strewn hillside, down through the marshy
tail of a lake and up the next hillside to
a pile of boulders to set an ambush. Hiking across the hilly tundra was quite
a challenge. Each step required care as the vegetation
hid holes and rocks. Some steps found solid ground and some sank
ankle deep into muck (and you never knew
which it would be).
As if reading the script, the herd began
to filter past our hide about 250 yards out.
Dave and I discussed the animals. He saw the bull I had picked out earlier-
but of course I didn’t see the one he saw.
I picked out a beautiful specimen that I
assumed Dave was pointing
Ivan Schell and His First Caribou
|
 |
out, and directed an Accubond to the point
of the caribou’s front shoulder. It went down quickly.
Nicole and I both observed the expiration
of “my” bull. Dave however announced that “my” bull had
run over the hill. Then, the light came on - we were focused
on different animals. We exited the natural rock blind and headed
up the hill after the “right” bull.
At the top of the ridge we could see Mr.
Right walking away from us at about 500 yards.
It was too far for me to take a shot, so
Dave agreed to get us closer. At 400 yards Dave announced that this was
as good as it would get. I sat down and draped the Remington 7 mag
across my tripod, placing the horizontal
cross hairs along the bull’s back and carefully
squeezing. The bullet landed in the “bou’s” liver. He
was fatally wounded but not down. Another shot got him to the ground after
a 50 yard stagger. I decided to end it by
following the animal to its resting place
and administering the coup de gras.
Ivan with "Mr. Right"
 |
|
Now the real work would begin. Dave began
the butchering process on the first bull.
I participated in order to test a knife loaned
to me by Kentuckiana SCI sponsor and member Bill Keeton (See Side Bar). Dave gave me “down the road” about ruining
too much meat with my perfect shoulder shot.
It took three hours to butcher and pack out
the animals. Nicole and
I both wore down
dramatically by the time
the job was completed. We were both ecstatic to see the hot soup come out for lunch.
After recovering with the healing effects
of the hot lunch, Nicole
announced that she
wanted Dave to find a great
bull close to
the shore to fill her last
tag.
Nicole and her Inuit Guide Dave
with her 2nd "bou"
|
 |
Amazingly Dave found a fabulous bull munching
the red and yellow ground
cover on a hill
side across a narrow bay,
within 200 yards
of the shore. After beaching the boat, Dave led Nicole
up a short rise through the underbrush to
a point 87 yards from the bull where she
could plant the tripod. The bull and its companions never saw us.
Nicole’s first shot spined the bull and he
fell straight to the ground.
Nicole moved
in to finish the bull while
Dave retrieved
his butchering tools from
the boat.
Coley Jackson and Caribou
 |
|
On a distant hill, at almost the same time
that I had been shooting
my caribou, Jim
and Coley were sorting
through hundreds of
animals for the biggest
and best they could
spot. Within 30 minutes both had filled their tags.
Jim Gladden and one of his
Central Canada Barren Ground Caribou
|
 |
As their guide dressed out the animals, hundreds
more (some even larger)
filed past their
location. It would take the guide from 10:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. to butcher and carry out the four bulls. By the time they passed the Inukshuk, about two miles from camp, the rest of
us had finished dinner.
Our bulls were among 10 total bulls floated
up to the camp’s beach
that afternoon.
Bob Nosler Greeting Jim and Coley
with Their Harvest
 |
|
These added to the first day’s harvest totaled
sixteen bulls on the ground at the end of
day two. Only 7 tags remained. Lots of excited chatter
followed the ATV wagon
to the skinning shed.
Of the 10 bulls taken on day two, Kentuckiana
SCI members accounted for 7. Each of us had two tags for caribou, one
for wolf, and one for wolverine. Dave promised to find me a wolverine on a
gut pile the next day.
Unfortunately we never saw a wolverine, although
Shad Ketcher, a hunter from Minnesota, took one. Shad and his guide Sheldon tracked wolves
exclusively for the last
four days but only
succeeded in giving one
a haircut. A number of the rest of us saw wolves, but
were never able to connect.
Dave had led Nicole and me to a hilltop in
the midst of hundreds of
caribou on the move. Also in their midst were a couple of white
wolves. Apparently these were older animals that
were forced out of the
pack. They did not hunt together and neither could
catch even the youngest
caribou calves, regardless
of their repeated efforts.
Unfortunately, both wolves were out of range. But the show was better than watching the
Discovery Channel. We also observed grizzly bears all over the
gut piles left from earlier
caribou kills,
but they were not fair
game on this hunt.
Coley and his guide stalked to within 200
yards of a sow with cubs
just because they
could. Jim switched to fishing, and succeeded in
landing numerous huge lake
trout (see photo).
One of many Lake Trout
and Brown Trout caught
in Lac de Gras
|
 |
By the end of day five all caribou tags for
the “Deadly Dozen” hunters
were filled and
volumes of experiences
were shared: tales
of tough, long hikes, great shots, long misses, tasty food,
brutal boat rides, huge
caribou racks, elusive
wolves, dislocated knees,
and the mesmerizing migration peppered our
dinner conversations. By the time we boarded the float plane back
to Yellowknife, we all
felt like we’d been
hunting together for ages.
Our dinner on the last night in Yellowknife
found us in a bar sharing
pizza, beer, and
memories of a great hunting
adventure. Shad will never forget his maniacal ten mile
hikes and Hail Mary shots
at wolves. Jim will certainly remember his knees and
his gigantic lake trout. Coley will be seeing grizzlies in his sleep;
and we all will be reflecting
on the magnificence
of the migration.
The comfort of our camp and its friendly
staff will leave an enduring
smile on all
our faces. Check out the satisfied expressions of the
deadly dozen in front of
the Lac de Gras
Caribou Camp sign showing
off their “bou”
racks. These unmatched experiences (along with the
flight into the outback)
are what made this hunt a true “adventure
hunt.”
If you would like to try this Adventure,
contact:
JOHN ANDRE
SHOSHONE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES
1550 SHALKAHO HIGHWAY,
P.O. BOX 520
HAMTILTON, MT. 59840 406-375-8400,
www.shoshonewilderness.com.
