Grizzly Hunting in Alaska: Three Tags, One Huge Adventure

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The moans of the engine and the whine of the flaps on the Cessna 180 changed tune, indicating landing was imminent. As the ground got closer, it was hard not to think of what was at home while the reality of the hunt truly set in.

When boots hit the ground, it’s real. You’re alone on a landscape that offers no easy escape to the comforts of modern society. The will of the elements dictates the time spent in the bush—even the push of an SOS button could be meaningless if weather doesn’t allow for extraction. While my friends and I set up camp, the sound of the planes departing gently faded away. Our lifeline was gone.

The Preparation

As hunters, we all know what it’s like to plan for a trip. Though heading into the bush for an extended period in pursuit of grizzly bears means a bit more than a weekend-warrior escapade into favored deer grounds.

A group message chain between Rafe Nielsen of Browning, Shawn Skipper of Leupold and I made it clear that we all had nerves about our upcoming adventure. We bounced ideas off each other, planned what to bring and what to leave behind and tried reassuring each other that we had done our due diligence.

The day of departure came quickly after more than a year of anticipation. I loaded my bags and jumped on a plane for Portland where I met up with Skipper and headed north to Anchorage where we rendezvoused with Nielsen for the flight to Kotzebue. After landing in Kotzebue, we were met by Josh Vest who was one of our guides for the trip. He would be accompanied by Ben Longeski, a veteran brown bear guide.

Hurry Up and Wait

Anyone who has hunted Alaska using air transport knows that schedules change and continue changing. We departed the hotel first thing in the morning to store gear and prep for our flight to the bush, but the wait was on. With multiple groups needing transport to and from the field, we hunkered down in a cold container on the airfield and waited for the pilots to call our names.

The wait only proved to bolster my nerves and anticipation. I was prepared as well as I could be, and accepted that the rest was out of my hands. By the time I squeezed into the back of the 180 in the early afternoon, I was calm. The flight was fairly quick in the powerful Cessna. The topography changed as we moved away from the ocean and towards the remote mountains of the Arctic.

Looking down at the tundra and winding rivers below, I started noticing bear tracks frequenting fishing holes. The nerves turned into excitement and the next day, our first day of hunting, couldn’t come quickly enough.

A Disheartening Wind

The rest of that first afternoon was painfully slow, though Rafe did glass up a beautiful blonde sow cruising the tundra across the river. I don’t like sitting still. I have a wandering spirit that doesn’t do well when I must stay in one spot. But for the success of our hunt, we had to lay low and not disturb the area. These bears are smart.

Spreading scent around the area would only prove to push animals out, greatly decreasing the chances of taking three bears over the duration of our trip.

Night finally came around 11 p.m. and we crawled into bed, but not before “Tom” came for a visit. Tom was the name I gave the bear that made his presence known not 40 yards from my tent that evening. Standing erect, he chuffed and sniffed the air, came down on all fours and walked towards me and our videographer Christian Hoffman. A couple of quick “hey bear” shouts and Tom went on his way down to the river. Even with the encounter, sleep came quick and the morning even quicker.

Departing from camp, we worked our way to a high hill that would allow us a good viewing point to watch the river basin below. Once in position, it didn’t take long to start seeing bears. One here, one there, moving through the alders, walking along the river, eating salmon or just cruising through the country. Bears were everywhere, making me think twice about walking through the thick alders or wandering too far from the group.

We just had to find a shooter and put a stalk on, but then there was a change. As the wind whipped around the bluff and swirled, we noticed bears raising nostrils to the sky before quickly evacuating the area. It seemed impossible they could catch our scent at such great distances, but when a big boar stood, sniffed and ran away at nearly a mile out, our attitudes changed, and we were nervous our hunt could be over before it even really began.

We glassed for several more hours, watching bears and seeing the same thing repeatedly. Ben decided that staying on the bluff with the bad wind could ruin the hunt for us, so we retreated to the tents hoping for the winds to change and to wait out the rain that blew in that afternoon.

The next morning continued to lower our spirits. A bad wind, inclement weather and no bears prevailed. Our worst fears seemed to be turning to reality. We yet again retreated from the weather and back to camp, hoping that by the afternoon we would catch a break from the rain and bears would start moving. The lull of the day sitting in a tent made my mind run wild with negativity, which was shared by the other members of our group.

The rain slowed its beating against the tents and we headed up to the glassing knob with renewed spirit. As the rain kept getting softer, bears started to move. A beautiful old blonde sow made her way up the opposing riverbank; it was decided Skipper was up to shoot, and he took off on Josh’s heels for the stalk.

Watching from above through my Leupold SX-4 Pro Guide spotter, the anticipation and excitement got the better of me. My legs quivered so much that the vibrations on the soft ground shook the tripod too much for a clear view. As they closed the distance it was easy to tell they would have an opportunity. Skipper squeezed the trigger and made a perfect shot.

Great Glass and a Heavy Hitting Rifle

This country requires the best of your equipment. While looking for bears, you spend a lot of time behind your glass. If your optics are uncomfortable to use, fail in rain, fog and freezing temps, dump in the river or suffer from heavy-impact falls, the trip can end in hurry. Leupold combines quality glass with rugged reliability to ensure your optics will be the last thing on your mind on that hunt of a lifetime.

For this trip, my binocular setup was the new 10x42 BX-4 Range HD binoculars which combines the company’s trusted optical system with advanced rangefinding technologies. The BX-4s are comfortable in the hand, have crystal-clear glass and can range reflective targets out to 2,600 yards and deer-sized game out to 1,100. They are fully waterproof, will hold up even in the roughest conditions and also have ballistics software to make shooting solutions even easier. $1,600

While binos work well to glass a general area, more power is needed to pick apart small pockets of dense brush and to judge trophy quality. To accommodate that need, I carried Leupold’s SX-4 Pro Guide 15-45x65 spotter. The water- and fog-proof glass proved to work well in the wet Alaskan weather and the extra 62 ounces of weight was well worth the cost. If a hunter wants more magnification, the SX-4 Pro Guide also comes in the 20-60x85 variation to reach out just a little bit farther. $800-$1,000; leupold.com

Picking a rifle to take on one of the largest predators in North America is no easy feat. We chose Browning’s new X-Bolt 2—which, dare I say, out punches its legendary predecessor.

The new X-Bolt 2 platform, with reconfigured receiver, upgraded bolt and new DLX trigger, was comfortable, lightweight and accurate. It consistently produced sub-MOA groups at the bench and handled the recoil of a hot cartridge with ease, never causing discomfort to the shooter. Much of that is due to the Recoil Hawg brake that tipped the barrel of the rifle, but also give props to the new stock design, which is adjustable.

Caliber choice is also important; a heavy-hitting magnum cartridge is a must-have—and it needs to be pushing the right bullet. We chose the .300 PRC shooting Hornady’s 190-grain CX from the company’s Outfitter line of ammunition. While we may not have had the knockdown power of the .338s or .375s, I can confidently say I would be more than comfortable using the same setup on these northern predators again. Prices vary; browning.com

Double Trouble

With one bear down, the mood in camp was high. We relived the happenings of the day telling stories from different perspectives and sipping celebratory drinks. Though we still had a lot of work to do, we felt successful; the trip could’ve ended that night and we’d be happy with the outcome.

The group talked late into the evening as the weather moved back in, pelting the tents with rain. All we could do was wait until the morning to see if it would clear. It didn’t. Most of the day was spent lounging around camp, waiting for an opportunity to get out and hunt without completely saturating our gear.

The next opportunity came early in the afternoon. At our glassing knob, we joked, made dinner and drank coffee to stay warm while waiting for bear movement. The time slowly ticked by and the only bears we had seen were miles away and too far to have any opportunity.

Patiently waiting and glassing for any signs of life, I spotted a bear come out of the brush down river and start swimming across. As it came out of the water, we knew it was good bear and had to hurry to get off the bluff and into position to cut it off. Even a slow-moving bear moves fast.

With no time to waste, we slid down the wet slope and started pushing through the alders. With the bear on our side of the river, spotting it would be difficult and if it left the river bank, we’d be in for a close encounter. “We may jump this bear in the brush, so be ready,” said Josh.

I was calm, cool and collected until those words were spoken. Luckily, we proceeded through the brush with no close encounters. The alders gave way to the riverbank and we spotted the bear slowly working its way upstream towards us, a mere 100 yards away. I laid prone in the sand getting purchase with rifle’s bipod and prepared for the shot.

Quartering towards me, the bear stopped. With the crosshairs on the point of the shoulder, the gold trigger of the Browning X-Bolt 2 broke clean and the 190-grain CX bullet from Hornady impacted with authority. Then, all hell broke loose. The bear spun and roared with intense fury. Cycling the bolt, I timed the spin and let another go, two good impacts. The grizzly took off towards the alders and Josh shot to try and drop it before it made cover but missed. We had agreed that if he thought it necessary for the safety of our hunting party that he should take a follow-up shot to avoid blood trailing a wounded grizzly in the alders. With one round left in the rifle, I tracked the bear and squeezed off one last shot that put the bear down.

It all happened quickly, but felt like a lifetime from sighting to shot. Rafe and Skipper came down from the bluff—high fives, cheers and hugs ensued thereafter. We proceeded with the process of tagging the bear and taking photos, but were quickly interrupted as another bear started working towards us from down river. Rafe was up and decided that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth. He and Josh went on a stalk hoping to pull off a double for the evening.

The wind wasn’t great, so we hunkered down behind a gravel ridge hoping to get out of the wind and not blow the stalk. Ben, Skipper and I waited anxiously for the report of a rifle. Moments later, the sound of the .300 PRC broke the silence, several times. Our third bear of the trip was down, and the hunt was an unbelievable success.

Celebrations ran long into the night. Flasks were emptied, and headlamp batteries ran dry—it was well worth it.

Gone Too Soon

The next morning was an early one as we prepared for our departure on the front of a storm that threatened to leave us stranded. With outfitter Brad Saalsaa making runs one by one in the Super Cub, it wasn’t certain who would make it out that day.

After Skipper and Rafe made it back to Kotzebue, the sound of the returning plane sealed my fate and I’d be leaving the Alaska backcountry days earlier than I anticipated. The weather was rough, and my goodbyes were fleeting. Despite getting three bears down, the trip had ended too soon. Rocked by wind and nervous of the impending storm, I looked to the river winding through the tundra to see bear tracks once more. My mind raced and my heart was full. I knew I would once again return to this place so wild and full of adventure.

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