Drove to one of my few spots I hunt on the road system today, as a gale was coming today and supposed to last a week, along with lots of rain.
I saw many vehicles on the road from Craig to Control Lake, and thought someone might already be in my spot, but luckily, no one was there. A doe ran across the logging road in front of me as I drove to the parking spot.
I got up to the top of the trail to the muskegs in about 45 minutes. I found a package of large-sized underwear I bought for Pat this summer when his luggage was delayed, and he ended up not needing them. Been a long time since I wore larges, and they fit and didn’t fall down.
It wasn’t raining in the muskeg, but there was wind and foggy mist rolling through the forest. I headed for a nice little perch in a muskeg, and a ptarmigan flushed in front of me, cackling. I’d seen one up here a few weeks ago, and it was still mostly brown. This one was well on its way to winter white.
As I settled in on a little mound in the middle of a muskeg, I heard a very weird sound. Like a squeaky hinge. First I thought maybe it was a tree in the wind, then realized it was nearby and moving. Didn’t sound like any bird I’d ever heard. Was it a bear cub? Then the animal making the sound was 8 yards below me: a deer yearling. Wow. It looked up at me for awhile, decided I wasn’t a problem, then went on its way.
I waited 15 minutes and then called. Almost immediately, a doe was standing about where the yearling had been. She was a bit agitated. She looked at me, decided I wasn’t a threat, settled down, and walked out in front of me in the muskeg. Ooo! There’s another deer. But nope, not a buck trailing. Another doe. And another yearling! I’d already seen 5 deer – counting the doe on the road – and it was my first spot to call. The deer eventually worked their way up the muskeg and into the timber. I called every 15 minutes for an hour and saw nothing more.
I moved and called similarly in a few more spots around the muskeg complex, and didn’t see another deer. I checked my phone to see I was right on my past track as I worked my way up hill to try in the timber, then would work my way back down to the truck.
As I climbed up into the timber, I selected a perch where I could see through the timber. As I went to take off my pack and settle in, my left leg went right through the root was covered by moss I was on, right down to my crotch. I wasn’t hurt, but if the hole had been big enough, I would have gone right down to my armpits. I worked my way out of the hole, and moved to another perch 10 yards away.
I duffed my pack, chambered a round, and got ready to call when I realized…my phone was gone! I frantically went through my pack, hoping I’d put it in there, but no dice. Then I went back to the root wad and got a stick and a head lamp and moved all the dirt under there where I’d punched through to see if the phone had somehow got buried, but again, no dice. I remembered the last time I’d checked the phone to see where I was on OnX, sort of, so I back tracked as best I could. I have a hot pink phone case just for this reason. Try as I might, I couldn’t find it. Luckily, I’d checked the compass heading at the last muskeg I called in – the closest muskeg to the highway, and saw I would need to go due south from there to get to the road.
Well, another day in the life. One problem with the electronics we have now, of course, is what was happening now. I’d been in and out of this spot many times, but always by the electronics. I felt naked without it. I wandered around the mountain. Luckily, I could hear the planes at the Klawock airport, and a vehicle on the road once in awhile, so I headed in that general direction. When I got to a big creek, I followed it a short ways and there was the highway.
I climbed up on the road and looked both ways. There was a side road going up the mountain. That must be my logging road. As I turned into the road, I saw a stop sign at the juncture with the highway. Huh, never noticed that before. I got up the road about an eighth of a mile and saw another road veering off to the right. That’s not right, I thought. I’m on the wrong logging road.
So, I hiked back to the highway. Then, here comes a US Forest Service Truck. Great, I thought. They’re from the government. They’re here to help me! I waved them down…and the sole driver just kept going! He waved and didn’t stop! Here I am, a hunter out in the middle of nowhere – what did he think I was doing- walking the 20 miles to Thorne Bay? I couldn’t believe it.
Another vehicle comes from the opposite direction. A surplused Forest Service green truck. This driver pulled right over. Nick was a bus driver for Hollis School on his way to work (I think). A retired logger who lives in Klawock. A local. Yeah.
When he told me where I was – nearly 2 miles from the bottom of the logging road I’d driven up- I realized just how turned around I was. He had time to take me back to the bottom of the logging road, but not the rest of the way up, and that was more than fine by me! I duffed my pack and gun in the weeds at the highway, grabbed my water bottle, and started the 3/4 mile walk of shame up the mountain to the truck.
About half way there, here comes someone road hunting from up the same road. The road is barely wide enough for me to stand to the side so he can pass. As he passes, the driver has his window down, but doesn’t stop or say a word! Who passes by someone in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t ask if they are ok? Or if they saw any deer. Or how their day is? Bummer. I continue on the walk of shame to the truck, change out of my rain gear and cork boots, and head home. I enjoy the hot coffee in the thermos on the way.
Alaska has changed, I think. Or maybe it’s just me.