So I have a particular friend here in the wilds of Alaska.
If you had ever been to Fairbanks and walked through
Sportsman's Warehouse you might well of had seen him.
Although I highly doubt you would have been able to pick him
out of the crowd of all the other long haired, long bearded,
Carhartt wearing Grizzly-Adamish typical Alaskans.
Like most, he lives semi-off the grid and spends a great deal of his time outdoors and is an avid, very experienced, hunter and fisherman.
One day while we were reliving our past experiences in the Arctic, he relayed the following story. Summer had drawn to a close and the days were growing shorter by the minute. The leaves had fallen and the first signs of frost were appearing, casting gray shadows across the hills. The Salmon had spawned and hunting season was at hand.
Funny thing about the "Interior" and the people that she draws to it. They have preconceived idea's, and when they get here the first thing, and most understandably, they want to do is experience the outdoors and NOT from the safety of the car.
Thankfully we have many, many "SourDough's" who just cant wait to take a greenhorn out just to see the look of wonderment and at times shear fright upon their mosquito lumped faces, my friend is one of these.
As I said, hunting season was upon them and "Mr. Adam's" had befriended a young man at work who begged for someone to take him Moose hunting, to which my grizzly friend quickly agreed.
Great preparation goes into a successful moose hunt, to which I will leave the reader to imagine. However for the stories sake I will mention some "rules" that apply. Never, ever go in on your four wheeler farther then you can walk out. Always bring enough supplies to last at least three days and if at all possible have communication with the outside world. But most of all be prepared for the unexpected because what you think could never happen, will.
So here we are, our friends begin their journey where the road ends and the vast expanse of tundra begins.
They had already gone in and up seven or eight miles and were in the perfect place which had produced moose after moose year after year.
As they sat and glassed the valley below them they could see the tree line go for miles in each direction, as I said, perfect.
After about four hours of not moving and the greenhorn wondering just what he had gotten himself into, my friend sprung into action, he had heard something.
He followed the sound with his rifle and began glassing the tree line right down below them.
He whispered to the newbie "did you hear that", "i'm not sure" he stuttered back through the pounding of his heart.
Again another noise only louder and more distinguishable, not a moose, but a voice. A very distant human voice.
the newbie quickly and quietly acknowledged that he had definitely heard someone at that point yelling hello.
My friend quickly put down his rifle and called out "hello out there" again the reply came "hello can you hear me", "Yes I can hear you", and with that reply came recognition "dad, is that you down there?!", "yes, Its me", fearing the worst he began to walk down the hill and cried out "are you alright" "yes" came the reply, "i'm fine, your the one who called me".
communication is good to have, as long as it has a key pad lock.
