July 30-August 8, 2005

It was the afternoon of the fifth day of our six-day grueling hunt in sections17 and 19 in Alaska, the last great frontier. My favorite hunting partner/husband, Kevin, finally made an amazing shot to take his big caribou at 550 yards with a Remington 300 Ultra Mag. without the benefit of a range finder rifle scope. God had answered our prayers and this wouldn’t be a trip where we go home empty handed.

His large bull was only the second mature bull we had seen! Now it was my turn and time was quickly vanishing. Our pilot was due to pick us up in the tundra plane around 3 PM the next day. It was now 5 PM on day four, I was completely exhausted, my wet feet were covered with blisters from hiking 6-8 miles a day across the tundra, rivers, alders and mountains. I kept saying to myself, “this is the hunt I’ve dreamed of and worked for?” Yes, it was my once in a lifetime hunt and now I knew why “they” say once in a lifetime…it is because I couldn’t have survived it the second time.

I know what you are thinking, “Caribou hunts are a piece of cake, you show up, a heard of caribou walks past you and you pick out the biggest bull, shoot him, pack up and go home. This girl must be a big wimp if she thinks she had a hard trip.” However, this year opening weekend for the Mulchatna heard was different than in the past ten years. Instead of the heard moving in huge groups through the large valleys, they split up into small groups of 20-100 and they spread all over the mountaintops like mountain goats! They didn’t walk through our camp as we had expected.

To back up a little, my dream hunt for many years has been to go on a Moose hunt in Alaska. When I found out that a moose hunt could range from 10-15 strenuous days and it would mean camping in the wilderness with no shower, I decided that maybe a five day caribou/black bear trip would be a better first experience.

The year before, I experienced walking on the tough uneven tundra on a fly fishing trip near Dillingham. Even though our trip would be short, I knew that being in top shape physically would be critical for a successful and enjoyable trip. The four months leading up to the trip were filled with running stadiums, walking hills with a pack and lifting weights. I couldn’t wait to get to Alaska and I was willing to do whatever it took to be ready!

No workouts could have prepared me for the news I would receive nine weeks before our trip. After a series of mammograms and tests, the doctors told me that I had breast cancer and surgery was imminent. I contemplated delaying surgery until after the trip, but no one else thought this was a good idea. . It was inevitable; my trip would have to be cancelled. . Still, I continued the workout routine so that I would recover quickly. Who knows, maybe Alaska wouldn’t be out of the question five weeks after a double mastectomy and reconstruction? Hope was always in the back of my mind.

Surgery came and went. Afterward, I was more determined than ever to make it to Alaska. Each week I asked my surgeons, “How much harder can I workout?” The answer was always the same, “Workout? You can’t do anything strenuous”. The other tough question I asked myself was how would I be able to shoot my Remington 7mm rifle? Kevin decided that we must switch our game plan. To go on the trip, I would have to shoot my Smith and Wesson scoped 41 mag. with 250 grain bullets. Since it will be opening weekend, getting close shouldn’t be a problem. A good gun rest would be essential.

After much deliberation, prayer and working out just below the point of strenuous, Kevin and I decide to attempt the trip. My pack was modified to take the weight off my shoulders and Kevin suggested that he carry enough weight to make it tolerable for me. The hunt was on!

Now, back to 5PM on day five. The tundra plane picked up Kevin’s caribou off the mountainside to take it back to camp. We were about 3 hard miles from camp and I could hardly walk for the pain in my feet. Terry, the owner of the aviation company and our pilot, asked me the million dollar question, “Corinna, I have room for one person to ride back to camp, would you like to go?” This was the turning point, do I fly and give into my exhaustion and pain, and take the easy way home, or do I hunt the remaining five hours of daylight. You see, in Alaska, it is against the law to fly and hunt on the same day. My resolve won out and I said, “As much as I would love a ride, if I fly then I can’t hunt. I cannot imagine working this hard and giving up in the last hours.” We watched as the plane bounced a few times and jumped off the mountain.

We began the trek home to our spike camp down and up the mountains, across the river, through the thick alders filled with brown bear and finally back up our incredibly steep mountain that we had to climb at the end of each days’ hunt. The hike back was interrupted by long periods of glassing for black bear and caribou. We spotted caribou in the distance, they were finally beginning to come down from the mountains and settle into the valleys. All we could see in the distance were cows and small bulls everywhere. This had been the story of our week. Maybe tomorrow would be my day.

The final climb to the camp was almost more than I can bear. At about 11 PM I fell into bed more exhausted than I thought was humanly possible. The soft cot felt great, but my mind wouldn’t stop calculating the risk that after all this hard work and determination, I might go home empty handed. I tried to convince myself that I was excited for Kevin and that should be enough. My selfish nature won out and I started having a real big pity party. As I finally fell asleep, I prayed and told God that I was struggling and asked Him to comfort me and make me content. The plan for the next day was to be up at 4:30 AM, daylight, to hunt the remaining few hours before Terry came to pick us up for the return to Iliamna.

Daylight came and with it the usual heavy morning fog. This fog however was more like a storm and it showed no sign of going anywhere. Burr. Our guide, said, he wasn’t sure this fog would lift. My heart broke, this was my last day and last hope. We couldn’t even see the lean to that acted as our latrine 30 yards in front of our tent. My mind ran wild, my heart was sinking, never in my life had I worked so hard for something and been so determined to overcome the obstacles that had blocked my way. Once again, I asked God to work a miracle on my behalf. He had done this so much in the past few months. Why should today be any different.

The fog did lift just before lunch, Burr spotted some caribou getting ready to come right through camp. My heart pounded as I burst from the tent, pistol in hand. This was ideal, if they would come through camp, I wouldn’t have to make the long hike down the mountain, across the river and back up the other side. Once again, cows and small caribou crossed our path. At this point I would have been thrilled with a medium sized caribou just to have something to remind me of my adventure.

Quickly, Kevin and Burr decided it was clear enough for us to go to our lookout points and glass for big bulls and bear. They went to glass while I wrapped my feet in bandages and packed my gear for the trip. When Kevin returned, we began to walk to our lookout point but I could not go anymore. It was over for me. I told Kevin, “I’m done, my feet hurt too much, my legs are like noodles, I’m exhausted, probably dehydrated and I’m hungry.” At this point, I must tell you that Kevin hadn’t stopped praying since he shot his caribou that I would get a black bear or caribou. He was my biggest cheerleader and he was even more determined than I that I get an animal.

His eagle scout training kicked in and he took me right back to camp. The peanut butter, bread, and water were spread out before me and he said, “Eat, drink and do not get up until I get back”. He reported to Burr that I had hit the wall and that he, Kevin, is not going to let me give up. He informed Burr that we were all going across the river after something. Kevin didn’t care that our plane would be there in 3 hours and we hadn’t packed camp. He was going to make sure that we exhausted every opportunity to get an animal for me.

When Kevin returned, he said “Get up, give me all your gear and pistol, we’re going across the river”. We begin to head toward the higher lookout point and I begged Kevin to take me to the lower point where there might be a caribou in the flats which would be the easier of the hard hikes. He relented and we headed toward Burr’s lookout point over the flats.

All of us desperately glass with our binoculars and spotting scopes hoping to will something to appear. Finally, about two miles out in the flats, I spotted a medium sized caribou in a very large herd. Without hesitation, I said, “That bull will do just fine for me, let’s go!” As I raise my binoculars one last time, I saw something next to the medium bull that looked like it had rocks or shrubs behind it. In the back of my mind, I thought, maybe there is something big in that group.

Off we went, down the mountain, across a small stream, then across about a thousand yards of flat to the river. In the five days we had seen 5 or 6 big brown bear, too bad it wasn’t brown bear season, and one of the biggest was right where we were getting ready to cross the thick alders and river. This part of the river was the widest and thickest of the trip. We fought our way through the thick brush, three foot deep pits, two rivers and finally to the other side. Of course, my boots were filled with water once again. This time I don’t care and I no longer felt any pain, because I knew this was the BIG MOMENT that I had been waiting for.

Burr, made it across first and as Kevin and I made our way out, he said, “There is a dandy bull in that group next to the medium sized bull.” All I could say is “Thank you Lord”. My opportunity was at hand and he was about 600 yards away. We quickly realized that the pistol wasn’t an option because of the large flat open field that we must cross. Getting to within 100 yards would be impossible. After dropping most of our gear we began to crawl across the tundra.

Kevin was carrying his gun for me. We crawl about 200 yards and realized that we were still too far away and the rangefinder wouldn’t pick up on anything yet. Now it was time to belly crawl! Needless to say, this was a bit strenuous on my chest and arms. At 150 yards from my target, I wasn’t about to let that stop me. We all three belly crawled keeping a very small bush between us and the “Dandy” bull who was bedded down with a calf in front of him. Finally, we set up at about 300 yards, Kevin uses his backpack to set up a rest for the rifle. I get rock steady and we wait. As we wait, a huge storm started brewing over our heads, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. It was getting cold and we had left our rain gear with our packs. Any minute, we were going to get drenched!

Time was critical now, Terry was too pick us up in one hour and the rain was imminent . You do not keep pilots waiting because they have a tight schedule and many hunters to tend too. It was now or never and the “Dandy” bull was happy to nap for the day. The decision was made. Burr, being a large man who looks like a bear, decided to stand up and look like a bear! As he got up, the bull stood but he was just behind a twig of a pine tree. Burr saod to the “Dandy” bull,” Just take two steps”, as he does, the bull takes two steps, I put the rifle up to my arm instead of my shoulder and I fired. He took a few steps, and I fired again, then he runs, and I fired again. Burr took off running with his rifle in hand. Kevin and I stayed behind. I was panicked. Did I miss him? I could not believe after all this that I missed him! I looked at Kevin with panicked eyes as he laughed at me.

We watched as Burr had his rifle up and looked like he was going to shoot. I said to Kevin” He won’t shoot him if I missed him, will he?” Kevin assured me that he would not! As the herd moved off in the distance, I could not see the dandy bull anywhere which reassured me that I must have hit him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Burr signaled that the dandy bull was down. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and Kevin and I headed to see him. My first shot had been perfect, my second a little back and my third was a miss. I was elated but to tired to show it. All I knew was that all the pain I had felt earlier was gone and it was replaced with a great since of accomplishment and pride.

I had done it! I had overcome the hurdles like a marathon runner does in the 20th mile. God had once again blessed me with a miracle. As is just like God to do, He waited until the last moment so that He would be glorified and it would be apparent that He had worked a miracle.