Molly’s First Bou

This Fall it was my wife Molly’s turn to pull the trigger. She had wanted to bag a big game animal in Alaska for a while and the time had come to do just that. Her goal was to shoot either a caribou or moose. I said why not get both. First, we would travel far to the north, almost to the Arctic Ocean. Here there is plenty of adventure to be had. Muskox, grizzly bears, wolves, and caribou roam the vast tundra. We had gone up the year prior together with our bows but failed to make a kill. I later traveled back up there and hiked far enough to shoot a bou with my rifle. We were confident that if we got 5 miles off the road, out of the bow-only corridor, we’d find success. 

Our hunt window was short, only 4 days. With the 14 hours of driving each way we had little time to get it done. We got everything packed and loaded into my truck Wednesday afternoon. Fresh off my sheep hunt it wasn’t hard to get everything in order. This would be a 2-3 night walk-in hunt and we were hopeful we could packraft back towards the road with the meat. After a ten-hour day of work on Thursday, Molly started the drive north and picked me up on the way. I had spent the day “working”. This consisted of scouting out new areas for Northern Pike and getting a sore arm from pulling in so many that we lost count. 

I took over driving and soon it was late at night as we continued our trek north. The northern lights danced as we neared the Brooks Range. A veil of purple, that I rarely see, was an omen of the good fortunes to come. We made it over the pass and onto the slope as the sun came back up. A fresh coat of snow lay on the ground and the temp read 23 degrees. It was the morning of August 30th. 

We met up with our friends Matt and Stefanie who were joining us on our foray out on the tundra. We spotted some bou from the road as we neared the area we planned to hunt. There was a group of 20 about a half mile away with 2 big bulls. A few more dotted the landscape further out. Along with the bou, 2 muskox fed in the brush just 75 yards off the road.

We parked the trucks and got our packs ready. Apart from a little sleep in the truck, we had been awake for over 24 hours at this point. Despite what our tired bodies wanted, we set out hiking across the uneven tundra. The tussocks were to our knees making every step a chore. This would continue for the next 5+ miles. We tried stalking the group of bou that contained the big bulls, but they were nowhere near cover offering a chance with the bow. We opted to get past them and continue about our day of hiking. It took all day, but that evening we got across the 5-mile buffer to where we could hunt with our rifles. We found a suitable spot to pitch the tents and started glassing around the surrounding hills. There were a few bou around, mostly singles and groups of 2-4. Nothing for size but we had not planned on being picky. The hunt was open for any caribou, and our goal was to return home with fresh meat. We fell asleep quickly as the last light of the day faded away. 

In the morning we got up at first light and made breakfast. It was cold and overcast but without rain or snow. Matt and Stefanie elected to stay around camp as Molly and I decided to head up the valley to try to gain a vantage point near where we had seen bou the evening prior. About 15 minutes of walking later, we spotted a lone caribou 1/2mi across the stream on the opposing ridge. It didn’t seem to be moving too fast so we decided to try making a go at it. We hurried over to the stream and got the pack raft blown up. We hopped in and floated downstream in the direction it had been heading. We had lost sight of it due to the slope of the ridge and had no good idea where it had ended up. After traveling down to a bend in the river we headed uphill. We got to the top of the ridge 20 minutes later with only a single caribou back down by camp in sight. I could see Matt making his way towards it as it fed on the flat. In the featureless terrain of the tundra, it would seem every animal would be in plain sight. However, small folds in the hills and ditches of tall brush can easily conceal game. With this in mind, we sat down to glass and took a break. A few minutes later we heard Matt take the shot on his first bou. I could hear the thump of the bullet. It felt good knowing we had some camp meat. 

Just a few minutes after this Molly spotted the bou we had been after making its way down onto the big flat below us. We hustled over and saw it feeding 500 yards below. Being on an open hillside without anything but knee-high tussocks for cover, it didn’t take long for it to notice us. Caribou are not the brightest creatures and getting spotted doesn’t always result in any problems. In this case, it was a young cow on its own, she started to trot toward us maybe thinking we were other bou. I was ranging it for Molly who was set up on the pack. We had determined that 300 yards was the maximum distance we’d fire off the bag. At about 400 I could tell she was getting more nervous and unsure about moving much closer. She began to trot parallel to the slope. I determined she would likely use the same draw she had traveled down to come back up the ridge. The second she was out of sight we were up and running.  

It isn’t easy to run on the tundra but it is sometimes necessary. We ran the couple hundred yards up and over the slope to the top of the brushy draw. All the while, I am encouraging Molly to keep pushing and not to stop. She hustled hard and wasn’t too far behind me when the bou came within view. It was only 125 yards away as it came up out of the brush. However, Molly was 50 yards behind me! I had grabbed her pack with the rifle so I got it set up and frantically tried to relay to her that I was staring right at the bou and she’d better hurry. The bou saw us of course and was quickly again trotting away. Molly got to the pack fully out of breath but determined to drop the hammer on her first bou. I let out some loud bleats and whistles that finally got her stopped at 275 yards. She turned and was broadside as Molly finished dialing her cds dial atop her Leupold scope to 2.75. Her first shot from the 30-06 dropped it temporarily before it stumbled onto its feet again. A second shot put it back down and a quick third followed for good measure. It was a wonderful moment knowing that she had just bagged her first big game animal in Alaska and that we now had fresh meat for our freezer back home!  

We made our way over to the dead caribou and admired it as it lay on the tundra. It was a young cow, likely just a year or two old. We took some pictures and then got to work quartering and boning out the meat. She had absolutely no fat on her. The muscles and meat seemed plump, but there was no fat cap over the rump or back. I think we did this animal a favor, saving it from a long, cold winter that likely would have resulted in starvation or being ripped apart by wolves. The quartering didn’t take long and about an hour later we were headed back to the packraft. The ½ mile route down the ridge was a welcomed pack out after the sheep hunt! A quick float around a few bends and we were back to camp.

That evening we had some of Matt’s caribou that he had shot, which turned out to be a mirror image of the one Molly had gotten. We were all pretty whooped and without any caribou in view, we decided we’d float out first thing in the morning. 

The next morning brought the coldest day so far, upper 20s for a high with snow flurries. After a quick breakfast camp was broken and everything was secured in the pack rafts. We’d have a few hours on the stream making our way back to the road. The float was a lot of fun but admittedly quite cold. I was using the big alpaca with all of Molly’s and my gear plus meat. Molly was in the DIY pack raft I had spent all summer making in our garage. It had many patches from where the “manufacturer” had messed up the heat sealing and whatnot. Yet it was functional without any leaks, except for the seat. Every mile or so we would pull off and Molly would blow air back into the seat. I had spent a total of about 10 hours making it and trying to fix it, I think its a lost cause. Matt later gave me a foam kayak seat that should work out well. The float was largely uneventful but was somewhat hard. There was just barely enough water to not get hung up on the rocks that were quite numerous in the riffles and rapids. After a few short portages towards the end of the float, we reached the truck roughly 6 hours after we had begun.  Hours of driving later we were pulling into our driveway at 4 am. We butchered the bou that day in preparation for our next hunt that was coming up in only a few days. Having bagged her first bou, Molly was excited to focus on her next goal, Moose.