I Moose Be Confused

I Moose Be Confused by Gary Benton
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A few years back, in 1997, I was living in Anchorage, Alaska. The country, for those of you who have never seen it, is breathtakingly beautiful. The town of Anchorage is surrounded on most sides by tall snow capped mountains. While the winters in Alaska tend to be rough, Anchorage actually has a mild winter, when compared to most of the state. And, after a winter of “cabin fever” most residents are ready for some outdoor fun. I have never met a person who lived in Alaska by choice (there are a few non-volunteers at nearby Elmendorf Air Force Base) that did not enjoy nature.

It was mid-June, if I remember correctly, and I had just lined up a fly-in fishing trip with a local bush pilot. For the meager fee of around five hundred dollars he would fly us out to a remote lake, miles in the deep Alaskan bush, then pick us up eight days later. At first I thought the expense was too great, but as I thought about it, hotels rooms in Anchorage were going for over one hundred dollars a night, so it was a bargain. I quickly called John and told him the trip was on. Also, as soon as I got home, I informed my son David that we were leaving in the morning. My son, as you would expect was one very excited boy.

His excitement toned down and his mood quickly became one of concern as he watched me take my guns down and prepare them for the trip. I was taking a 30.06 and a 12-gauge shotgun with slugs. Additionally, I cleaned and packed my .44 magnum pistol for a backup. Seeing his concern, I knew I had to talk with him. At fifteen years of age, he was no stranger to weapons and had attended a number of safety courses. He also understood that in Alaska, when a person stepped out into the bush, they became part of the food chain, well, as far as some large game were concerned.

“Dave, on the trip you will carry the shotgun. I will have the rifle and the pistol. I don’t need to tell you about weapons safety, but this will be your first time in the remote bush. The odds are we won’t see a bear or even an angry moose (both are considered potential dangers in Alaska at times), but we need the weapons for protection.”

My son gave me a weak grin and said, “Well, the salmon will be running, right?”

I gave a laugh, patted him lovingly on the shoulder and said, “Sure they will. But, bears are hungry now and that is another reason we are going armed. We will also carry a cowbell each (the noise is suppose to scare the bears and it must work, I never saw a bear when I carried a bell), and pepper spray. Nonetheless, the weapons go with us for safety reasons.”

Early the next morning the weather looked dismal with mild winds and a light rain. Not the best time to be heading into the Alaska backwoods country for eight days, I thought to myself. I met John and the pilot at the plane and we quickly loaded up all of our gear. I remember the pilot saying we were traveling light for eight days, and I assured him we knew our business. John and I had both graduated from a number of Air Force Survival Schools, so I was not worried at all about either our equipment or our abilities. Most of our dried foods had been repacked in zip-locked plastic bags to cut down on weight and we had dehydrated meals (commercial) that we would use after our fresh foods were gone after a few days. No, we were ready.

We were soon airborne and flew over snow filled valleys below. The country almost immediately became rough and unspoiled. Anchorage only has one main road in and out of the city, it runs north and south, and we soon failed to spot any indications of mankind. The color and beauty was breathtaking! While it was mid June, there was still snow on some of the mountains, and the ground below us had patches of snow in the shade. We flew over a glacier that was a source of no end of excitement for my son. While I couldn’t hear him due to engine noise, he continued to talk to me. I could only shrug my shoulders to indicate I didn’t hear him.

We touched down on a very large lake that was situated in a valley, between a series of mountains. The water, unlike at Anchorage when we took off was calm. The pilot of the floatplane made a very smooth landing and taxied up to the shoreline. As the four of us unloaded the aircraft he reminded us that he would not be back to pick us up for eight days. He also stated that he would fly over us periodically as he took other fishermen out to see if things were ok. If things were not well, we were to set out emergency signals, which we had discussed before the trip, to show we needed assistance. But, we knew once he flew off, we were on our own.

The silence after the plane departed hurt our ears. There was not a single sound to be heard, until I said, “Well, guys, let’s get the campsite ready.” I could not but help notice the look in my son’s eyes as John and I unpacked our weapons, made sure they were on safe, and then handed David his shotgun. He quickly checked his and we moved off toward the tree line.

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