I wish I could write a story without drama but that doesn’t seem to be my norm.  This hunt was no exception.  When I was thinking about a title for this story, the first one that popped into my head was, “The Hunt From Hell,” but I’m grateful as it could have been worse. 

Like many hunts in Alaska, it started when we were drawn for sheep during the motorized season in the Delta Controlled Use Area.  We have been drawn for that area three times in the last fifteen years.  The last time was eleven years ago when my grandson Jared harvested his first ram.  That was such a special time for me, seeing my grandson bag his first sheep. 

Accompanying the old man this year were my son-in-law Sagen and grandsons Jared and Nathan.  At 77, I wasn’t sure how it would go.  After a long 8 hour drive we arrived at the Gerstle River around midnight.  We set up a quick temporary camp for the night.  Early the next morning we loaded our gear on the 4-wheelers and headed out.  Even though there had been lots of rain in the area the last few weeks, the trail wasn’t bad with only a few spots of serious 4-wheeling.  We made it to the river bottom about 11:30 AM and continued on the trail for another mile when the trail abruptly stopped.  The main channel of the river had cut deep into the bank washing out about a half mile of trail.  Eleven years ago, there was a small channel against the bank which was easy to cross and then you were back on the trail, but not this year.  I got off of my 4-wheeler and headed into the brush to see if someone had cut another trail to get around this area or to see if we could do so ourselves to continue up valley.  It didn’t look too bad but I knew it would take a long time to cut a half-mile trail to meet the trail up river.  It also looked like the river may have cut into the bank again about a mile up river.  That for sure would be bad.  When I arrived back at the 4-wheelers, the guys had found a place to drop off the bank down river and had found a spot where the river braided for a possible place to cross.

Sagen crossed it on his brother’s old Yamaha Grizzly “600” with ease.  But on the return, crossing the second braid, he got caught up in some deep silt.  He said it was no big deal but I told him there was no way that the little red 2-wheel drive Honda TRX250 Recon could come back that way and that maybe we should just cut a trail up river.  He said that when we come back, we could find another place to cross.  I told him okay and away we went.  The crossing went well and I am always truly amazed at how Jared handles the little red Honda.  Both he and his dad have taken that little 4-wheeler where no one else would think possible.  About six or seven miles upriver I was thinking this was a good idea but then we came to an area where the river switched back to the opposite side of the valley and tucked into the side of the mountain with an eight-foot bank and nowhere to go.  We had to stop and camp or cross back to the other side.

It was close to 5 PM.  It had been a really nice day not getting too hot, maybe in the mid 50’s, but glacier streams or rivers raise mainly because of the melting glacier ice.  It is always best to cross them in the early morning before the daily melt.  Sagen found a spot that he thought we could cross back to the other side and camp where we had camped on our two previous trips.  It looked like a good place but the water was really fast.  He headed across and made it fine on the grizzly but it was deeper than we thought.  It was now Jared’s turn.  Jared made it a little over three quarters of the way when little red started to float.  Jared was able to get a little closer to shore by bouncing up and down making the back tires hit occasionally.  The current got stronger and pulled him back away from shore.  Sagen was standing in the current waiting to grab hold of the 4-wheeler but he was about five feet short when little red’s engine stopped because the water had come up over the carburetor.  Jared jumped off and tried to move the 4-wheeler toward shore but the water was too deep and the current too strong.  The 4-wheeler started to roll as Sagen made it to Jared and the 4-wheeler.  As the water swept them downstream the 4-wheeler rolled at least four times.  Their hip boots filled with water making it impossible for them to stand up.  As the water was sweeping them to our side of the river Nathan jumped off his 4-wheeler and ran into the water.   As he reached for Jared, his hip boots filled up and he was swept down river with his brother.  All I could do was yell over and over, “let the 4-wheeler go, get to shore, get out of the water!” As Jared and Nathan were crawling out of the water Sagen was still hanging with the 4-wheeler trying to get Jared’s pack loose as they were floating down river.  As the pack finally came loose, Sagen was too cold and exhausted to hold on to it.  It was all he could do to get to shore.  As he laid on his back on shore, half in the water and half on land, he yelled for someone to get down river and get Jared’s pack which was washed against shore in shallow water below where the 4-wheeler ended up.  I ran down river and was able to get hold of the pack before it washed further down.  It was all I could do to lift the pack out of the water as it was filled with river water and glacier silt.  It must have weighed 150+ lbs.  As the water ran out, I was finally able to get it up the bank. 

I left the pack and made it back up river to where three wet dudes were sitting.  The 4-wheeler ended up about 200 feet down river on a small gravel bar about 50 feet below where the guys ended up.

After Sagen gathered his strength he said, “Since I’m already wet, we should try to recover the 4-wheeler.”  I said, “No way, forget the 4-wheeler, it’s history, we have to get a fire going to get you guys warm!”  That’s the first order of business.  We got a giant Juliussen fire going.  Man, those Juliussens love big fires.

I never really cared about retrieving the 4-wheeler.  All I cared about was getting everyone out and that everyone was safe.  Glacier rivers or streams are frigid and it always seems someone dies every year trying to cross them.  Already this year in the Wrangell’s we lost one sheep hunter to a swollen glacier stream.  So, all we lost was a 4-wheeler, two cheap camp chairs, an old gear tent that Sagen had had for years and Jared’s good Helly Hansen Camo Impertech Guide rain coat.  One negative thing is they don’t make the rain coat in camo anymore.  Bottom line everyone was safe!

The main thing we needed to do after getting everyone warm was dry their clothes.  Sagen was the only one that went completely under the water.  Jared and Nathan were just in up to their necks but everything they had on was soaked.  Jared’s sleeping bag was in a plastic bag in his pack but still got wet.  All three had their I phones on them but they were all working so that was a gift.  It was a nice evening for drying so we hung all the wet gear on the alder bushes.

I glassed the hillside and found three sheep high on the mountain.  I got the spotting scope out and saw they were rams.  One needed to be looked at closer but we had gear to dry first.

We set up camp, ate a good freeze-dried dinner and had hot drinks.  Sagen’s 4-wheeler was still on the other side of the river so we had to retrieve it.  Sagen and I rode double on my Yamaha grizzly 550 about a mile down river before we found a good place to cross.  After crossing we made it back up to his machine.  Then we headed back down river to cross where we had crossed before.  Both crossings went well and we headed back to our new camp.

The plan was to get everyone’s gear dry and hunt from that camp.  We were only about a mile and a half down river from where we were planning on hunting.  We had never hunted on this side of the glacier but that could be good.  We set up two tents covered by a big tarp.  Jared and Nathan would sleep in Jared’s tent.  We gave them two space blankets and a spare air mattress and they used Nathan’s sleeping bag to cover them.  They made it fine but the condensation from the space blankets got Nathan’s bag damp.

The next morning, we had a good breeze coming up the river valley which was going to be great for drying but it only lasted until about 9 AM.  Then a cloud bank came in with rain and it went to ground zero.  We weren’t going to get anything dried in this weather.  Sagen set up a small tarp out of the wind and rain, we moved the fire under it and we spent most of the day trying to at least dry their Berber jackets which normally dry quickly if they aren’t saturated.

That afternoon the rain slowed down and Sagen came up with an idea of how to get the 4-wheeler out of the river.  We pulled the rope out from the old grizzly’s winch and threw it at the racks mounted on the 4-wheeler hoping to get the hook to hook on the rack.  The rope was 50 feet long and the 4-wheeler was about 48 feet out in the water, just long enough.  We had many close tries, with Sagen doing the best.  After an hour and a half Sagen hooked the front rack and we were able to winch it to shore but the swift water turned it upside down.  Once to shore, since I had the only dry hip boots, I climbed down the four-foot bank and hooked a tow strap to the frame and with the other 4-wheeler flipped it back onto it wheels.  We used both 4-wheelers to pull it up over the bank.

That was as far as I was willing to go on a recovery attempt.  It would cost more than it was worth to rebuild it and we still had to get it back across the river.  Recovery wasn’t part of my plan. 

Another not so good night for my grandsons and with nothing drying and still socked in we decided to bag it.  We only had three more days before we had to be back and we still had to get across the river one last time before we could get to the main trail.  As an old man I seem to continually worry about any potential problems.  That wasn’t me as a young man.  I guess, “been there done that” has changed me.

Around 1 PM we packed up, loaded the 4-wheelers and towed little red up next to the alder for some trapper to find.  Nathan and Jared rode double on the Honda Foreman and we headed down stream.  It took us close to two hours and after looking for another place to cross, we ended up crossing in the same place where we initially crossed the first day.  There would have been no way that the little red Honda would have made that crossing.  It took about another hour and a half to make it to the truck.  The ordeal was finally over.  Just an eight-hour drive home.

I blame myself for losing the little red Honda.  Ever though it had made many trips with us we shouldn’t have used it crossing the rivers.  It wasn’t made for that.  It was a great 4-wheeler to have around camp and its 19 years of life was good but it came to a bad ending that wasn’t necessary.  Another learned lesson!