What is it?
In my latest I also talked about having a partner for several moose hunts that were far away in the north of Northern Ontario – and I suggested that not having a capable partner under such demanding conditions would not be recommended. I think the reasons would be obvious to anyone with any insight into what might be expected in such a remote area under potential extreme conditions!
What do I mean?
A true born solo hunter is a minimalist: He doesn’t take everything but the kitchen sink with him for a six or seven day hunt living in a tent! A two-week hunt under the same conditions does make “normal conditions” become extreme! Think about that: apart from the cost of fuel for transport there and a return trip, any travel time while there for scouting and becoming familiar with the logging roads’ system is doubled! And there are no diesel or gas pumps, so more of everything must be taken!
<One of the four trips to the “Far North” of Northern Ontario. The exact location for camping on those other trips, and the only one with more than one partner. Meet Dave and son Jon, on my third trip nearly a decade later than my first trip with a single partner!
In our three trips to the “Near North”, south of North Bay, I had secured a cabin of a tourist opperation on the shore line of a lake. That was four hours drive from home base. The 4 trips to the “Far North” of Northern Ontario were 12 hours longer in travel time one way! Our hunting area was 15B, midway between Thunder Bay and Armstrong, the end of the highway going north. The only motorized transportation leaving that railroad town heading west or east were trains – apart from snowmobiles and ATVs going where ever there was a trail. Beyond that in any direction was Native habitation.
When I asked Pete, a salesman at a gunshop where I did most of my purchases in those days, “Where is the best moose hunting in Ontario?”, without hesitation he said “Go to Armstrong and move out from there.” , which was a little over a 2 hour drive straight north of Thunder Bay, a railroad town! I found it on the map and the gears began to turn inside my head!
I chose a partner, Mike, who was the age of my oldest son. We had done some previous hunts together much closer to home – including two of the three hunts south of North Bay. He was game for such a hunt and had the means of transportation that could accomodate basic needs, including a borrowed camping trailer. The area was completely new to both of us, and a lot of time was spent in searching out areas that looked promising in travelling many of the old logging roads. It turned out that I discovered a fresh rut pit just past mid-day on the day before our scheduled return home.
< Mike is second from left, on a bear hunt in Northeast Ontario, with my oldest son Brent on far left, myself with orange hat and close friend on my left, Bob (now deceased).
In those days it was relatively easy to secure a bull tag for certain WMUs of Northern Ontario, and I secured another for the following year for the same WMU, with the intent of hunting the bull that made the rut pit of the previous year. I was quite certain that it would not have been harvested in that remote area because it was already late in the season and the few hunters remaining were well scattered over hundreds of sq miles.
So having successfully obtained a fresh bull tag for that area, my plan was underway to return early the following year for a day or two of scouting before the oppener on a Sunday. This time it was our son Phil who became my partner, and I shot the bull that made the rut pit the previous year on oppening day around 2:30 pm. And we were on our way home at about 11 pm the following day.
What would have been some of the additional hardships to have been endured had I attempted that adventure and hunt alone?
- Loneliness! Apart from the car radio (yes, a small car pulling a borrowed lawn-service trailer), stopping at the numerous Tim Horton’s Coffee Shops going west, but none going north. After locating our camping site (tents) we “slept” in the car the first nite as the wind was too strong to put up a tent, and it was bitter cold! The following day began very early as we never slept much, and then we were wrestling with putting up two tents – one for sleeping and the other for gear and food. Alone? Can’t imagine it! Later that first day – scouting and putting up a tarp in the woods as a kitchen shelter.
- Setting up camp: That was Friday, two days before the legal hunt could begin. We had endured two days of horrendous wind and rain, including two nights with minimal sleep for myself. The first of those I drove through the night till we arrived on the mountain just outside Thunder Bay. We slept for a couple hours in the car, then went into the city for some breakfast. We huddled there until just past noon because the weather hadn’t improved, and didn’t want to attempt putting up camp (tents) in such weather, and we still had over an hour’s drive ahead of us going north to WMU 15B. But by mid afternoon, after some improvements in the weather, we headed in that direction, arriving shortly before the sun had gone down, though it was never seen by us! We made an attempt to sleep in the front bucket seats after pulling sleeping bags over us while fully clad in heavy winter pants and jackets – and oh yeah, head gear as well! Daylight came early (it seemed) and we crawled out of our habitation still weary and worn! It was Saturday, the day before our hunt was to begin. There was a lot of things to do before our moose hunt could get underway the following morning: Set up camp (the weather had become normal) and a “kitchen” (plastic tarp in the woods), eat and scouting out the area by means of my red 2-door Pontiac Sunbird. Yes, you read that correctly! It had a V6 gas motor that made (or the promo said so) 140 horses! It came that whole distance (1600 kms) loaded from bumper to bumper (including 2 hunters), plus pulling a 1000 lb lawn service open trailer loaded with many 5 gal full gas and water cans, camping gear, plus anything else like extra rope and tarps, come-along, axe, shovel, etc, anything needed for survival and success. Our food stuffs, rifles, their cases and ammo were all secured inside the car. The back seats folded down so literally we were loaded from the back end of the trunk to the back of our bucket seats all the way to the ceiling! That “little” car was pulling not only its own weight, plus two hunters (about 185 lbs each), their gear and food, plus a loaded 1000 lb steel (no aluminum) open trailer with side rails and back gate/ramp. All together over 5000 lbs at 27 mpg (Imperial) to 15B and back home again! The only hitch was the replacement of one bulb for a turn signal! Much more than that was its ability to navigate those rut filled old logging roads in scouting. Never got stuck once . . . the front wheel drive was like a tractor pulling!
If all that sounds like hard work under less than favorable conditions, just imagine doing it alone! But the risks would be never ending! Putting up tents in rain and gale-force winds! And sleepless nights! The night before the hunt, the gale-force wind returned, and the dome type tent would blow flat on us and then pop up again! So I didn’t sleep – the hunt would start before sunrise! Son Phil, however, could sleep through anything! The night before crawling into our sleeping bags on the tent floor, fully clothed, Phil filled his pockets with munchies of all kinds!
But I’m fast tracking it. The day before the hunt (Saturday), after making camp adequate for survival, we did a hike across the old logging road, in the direction of the rut pit from the previous year. We missed it by not more than 100 yards but saw a cow moose at the lake from about 250 yds, plus lots of fresh sign of a bull, cow and calf. Then, by noon, the weather turned sour again so we beat haste back to camp for refreshment and out of the heavy wind and rain – but the weather had turned much warmer than the two previous days. After a pretty good meal for hunters living in tents, I suggested we travel some of those old logging roads that I’d become somewhat familiar with the previous year. The red Pontiac 2-door coupe never missed a beat! It performed as well as any Jeep ever did! Of course, the trailer was parked at camp. At about 10 km from homebase, we came across another camp, that was huge: Highwall tents, ATVs, all-wheel drive pickups, wood piles – you name it, they had it! We got introduced: 2 against 8, and one of those eight was from a street in my town, next downhill from our family home! Unbelievable? Allmost! We had never met before, and now after 1600 kms from home we meet as neighbours! He had a new rifle he wanted me to see: A SS Rem 700 in 7 Rem Mag – his new moose gun! And we would meet again at the end of our hunt about 24 hrs later!
As I’m rehearsing that hunt, I’m doing so with the thought of what it would have been like had I done it alone! My son Phil had a GPS and knew where we were at all times in thousands of sq-miles of timber and lakes, and literally thousands of kms of old and new badly rutted logging roads. You could get lost back there without a GPS! No maps for all those badly beaten, rough, muddy and almost unnavigatable logging truck trails! I actually had a primitive GPS, one of the original hand held ones Phil had gifted me with some years earlier, and found it useful for locating myself in and out of new territory in the Haliburton Highlands. But his was the latest with maps and he actually found the spot where I’d hunted the year previous. When we were headed to the single road going west off of 527 to Armstrong that goes north out of Thunder Bay, it was dark but that dirt road showed up on his GPS saying this is where you turn left! Had I been alone without a good modern GPS, I might still be lost back there in a tangle of rough mud and gravel roads without names, signs or help! Though moose were well scattered, there were more of them than people!
So, if you hunt alone in a remote area be sure to take a modern GPS with maps.
< My old original – it still works!
- Scouting: we didn’t need to do much as I was already familiar with where we would hunt. After a full gale of wind all night long as daylight broke, the wind demons retreated in the face of what appeared to be coming was a very decent day. Without breakfast Phil got his gear and headed out to where he believed would be a choice location for ambushing a bull next to a stream in the genereal area of our scouting the day before. There, he’d put up a blind the day of our scouting. I was beat with few hours of sleep over the three nights preceeding. I said “I’m going to make myself a good breakfast, after which I’ll head to the hillside overlooking the lake and the general area of the fresh moose sign”. That I did and promptly fell asleep on the side of the hill as the warm sun soothed aches and weariness. We were separated by 350 to 400 yards and couldn’t see each other but were covering a larger terrain. I awoke at 11 am, looked around and noticed some large piles of bear scat. . . . Then recalled we planned to meet back at camp at noon for lunch.
- Hunting: Sometimes you luck out. . . too many times no luck happens! There’s a saying to this effect: Luck happens to those smart enough to have finished their homework! In our case I’d been there the previous year, did a lot of scouting in a prommising area and found the fresh rut pit the day before leaving for home. As it turned out, it was directly across the road from our previous camp – at about 350 yards. I knew I could find it again and fully expected that that bull in particular would be hanging out nearby. Why did I think that way? Because I finished my homework! In the afternoon of opening day, we decided to do some more scouting from my sport Pontiac. After a good lunch we piled into the car for a ride over the bumpy, rut filled road that was the route to “everywhere”! We went west for less than a minute, and with my window down I clearly heard the snap of a broken alder on my side not more than 20 yards into the alders that were standing in the flow of water we were using in washing ourselves and our dirty dishes. I looked at Phil and in low tones asked: “Did you hear that?” No he didn’t. I put the Pontiac in reverse back to camp for hunting gear. Parked it, left it and went into the bush on that side away from camp. Phil to his blind, and I in the general direction of the rut pit and abundant moose sign of the previous day. Some of it was through thick trees and brush heading south, and then to an open area. I stopped, looked around, made a 90* turn right, followed instincts on an uphill grade for 30 yards or so. . . And then it happened as in a well fabricated moose hunting story . . . . . a set of moose antlers began to appear on the horizon! As I slowly continued on, the antlers had a body attached to them of a good size bull standing, munching dogwood, nearly broadside! What does a true hunter with a bull tag do when such a gift is presented at 165 yds with no obstructions, plus no rest for his .340 Wby? Without a moment’s hesitation I raised the rifle to my left shoulder, aimed through the scope set of 5x at just behind the left shoulder, squeezed the trigger . . . . And KABOOM went the .340! What then? What else? The 250gr Nosler Partition went where aimed of course! Then what? The 1/2 ton bull reacted like it had just received a severe kick in the ribs from the two hind hooves of a bigger bull! It didn’t go down but it sure wasn’t going anywhere else! After a few more bullets for insurance, it lay dead where it received the first punch! At 350 yards from camp, there was no chasing after it into the unknown! How did we know it was 350 yds from camp? Don’t you remember Phil’s (then) modern GPS?
- Shooting game: First, I had complete confidence I could make that off-handed shot without hesitation. Wasn’t that arrogance? In no way! I’d fired that rifle, using my own handloads, close to a thousand times prior to the hunt – both from the bench and off hand. Calculated recoil was on the order of 54 ft-lbs. From the three shots I put into the bull, all were without supports: two from 165 yds and the final at 35 yds. Phil gave it a coup-de-grace from 10 feet between its eyes. It was like I was solo when I came upon the bull moose, and when shooting it, which I was! The bull was down and hidden from both his view and mine by the time he arrived from his spot about 350 yds away. The bull had fallen where standing into a depression that, along with the brush, hid him from view until son Phil got too close and the bull stood, but was not going anywhere. From ~35 yds I gave it one in the rump and it went down to stay. Phil then gave it one between the eyes as it’s eyes were still moving.
The lesson for me was never ever take anything for granted, including making sure the animal is dead dead! It’s been said (I believe for reasons good enough) “It’s the dead ones that kill you!” Had I not waited for Phil to arrive before approaching the bull – believing that three well-aimed 250gr/.338 Partitions would leave no breath in the lungs of that bull, I may have been dreaming of moose steaks! Instead, I heard son’s yell: “Dad WATCH OUT!” as the bull “rose from the dead” with the intent to inflict punishment on it’s tormentors in approaching it from 35 yds while not yet actually seeing it. But I was no novice at 64 years, and at least 40 of those involving pastimes in some of Canada’s unspoiled country! That helps in both visionary and auditory matters. We know what to look for and where while paying attention to any sounds no matter how new or old, or strange! Then, not like a left-over dessert that follows a delicious dinner, the nose (smells) is not only as important as any of the other senses in identification of beasts, but also their direction and proximity!
- Retrieving game: We had help from “that other camp” 10 kms away. Again, that was Phil’s suggestion since the cow and calf were legal and they hadn’t yet seen moose despite all their supperior equipment. Phil and I finished field dressing and dividing it into two major parts: the front half and the rear half, leaving all unnecessary parts behind – the head minus the antlers, legs below the knees and guts. The boys with their ATVs made short work of loading the two halfs onto the trailer, and the following day would begin their own hunt for the cow and calf. We were packed and ready to make the return trip by 11 pm of that day. But first we made a trip back to Thunder Bay for a good, late dinner and phone calls to our wives with the good news of the hunt and we’d be home, God willing, late the next day. Yep, we left camp about 11 p.m. with a full trailer of moose and all other gear, and a full moon overhead.
- The long journey home: It seemed to go faster and shorter. In fact we made very good time and stopped at most of the Tim Horton’s coffee shops. At one of those stops for”coffee”, a train of the biggest and best pickups had pulled in for fuel and “coffee”. We chatted a bit and shared stories. They’d hunted for a week and shot nothing! We hunted for a day and had a bull in the trailer, plus antlers sticking out, to show for it! I gave first thanks to God, who helped me in every part of that memorable adventure to the Far North of our Province. He was my inspiration and guide through it all! Despite all the hardships of the weather, and my discovery of personal diabetes and its effects on me during the arduous trials of sleepless nights and weariness. During that awful wind storm the night prior to the hunt, I fell asleep for a couple of hours before rising for the opening day, and had a dream of shooting a bull moose that day! Tis true, and I know it was from the LORD!
- Butchering and sharing: That was done locally in my town by professionals. We got 440 lbs of boned-out moose meat without additivies of fat or any other meat. That gave each of us 220 lbs for the freezer, and much of that was shared with family and friends. On our 40th Wedding Anniversary, members our church fellowship celebrated with us at a beautiful lakeside home where all shared some roast moose meat.
- Was it worth it? In many positive ways, YES! A very important part was to share it with son Phil! He was an immense help and blessing! And, it has drawn us closer together, for which we’re both thankful, I sincerely believe! To do it alone? It would have been a great achievement, no doubt, but not at that stage of my life with some physical constraints. While I’m a bit too independent, I’d get tired of my own company after a couple of days – especially in a wilderness setting where there are only moose and bear to share company with!
- Postscript:In hindsight, matters tend to appear more positive than perhaps they actually were because our goal was achieved. That time. But there were several other moose hunts that were unsuccessful in the sense of not achieving our principle goal. But is that all there is to it? I don’t think so. On the majority of my hunts I’ve shot nothing, yet even at this late stage of life with its new and different challenges I enjoy walking God’s earth in it’s natural settings. Every place has its own identity and nature. . . . I’m sure that you agree! If I hunt again, it will be to enjoy wherever God is – and that’s any where and everywhere!
Till the next . . . .
Shalom
BOB MITCHELL
25 years ago? Maybe . . . . This was my favorite spot for bear over bait. 100 yds downhill. The scope was a new Burris Silver Safari, fixed 4x by 20mm on my single-shot Ruger No.1 in .45-70. I took several bears here. But the one most interesting was the dominant bruin of the area, and he gave me fits. My camera man was a friend but not a hunter. The dominant bruin pushed over trees, swatted bait buckets and nearly pushed a tree over onto my friend. These were dead trees but big. He said he nearly filled his pants. 
Less than 200 yds from the current bear-bait setup. This is the north end of the ridge where it descends to meet the water.
This was the week prior . The only difference was that the tote and cover were closer to the edge of the ridge in the background where it falls off sharply about 30 feet to the ground below. And there was more of a carpet of fallen leaves.
I didn’t take pics last Tuesday – these are from a previous week to illustrate the tote with the logs on top. The rifle is the .375 H&H loaded with those 300gr Sierras. It was used for all the trips in and out, and was in hand in scouting this past Tuesday.
The blue X is where I first saw him. The red X is where I had the crosshairs on his back. The pic is a bit deceptive as I was well above him, and he never knew I was there – never changed his measured strides – and I knew I couldn’t/shouldn’t pull the trigger for at least three reasons (though it all was instantaneous): 1) He was too beautiful and was trusting his “caregiver”. 2) I couldn’t get him up out of there without the help of at least two more able-bodied men. And 3) I’d planned for a bear less than half his size. Pic was taken when I returned on Friday (yesterday) for the tote to bring it home.
Lovin' The Big Bang 