I went up north to

Jimm

Well-Known Member
Joined
Jun 12, 2007
Messages
1,267
Location
west of Little Rock ,Ark.
kill a caribou . Actually , was planning on killing two . I wont go on about the hunt unless there are folks whats got to know . A odd tale it was for sure .

A pic or two is attached .

IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v632/hisgrace/P1001991_1_130.jpg[/IMG]
 
Nice looking caribou. Who's the handsome dude you got to pose with your caribou?;):);)

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You know there a lot of folks whats got to know.:) Odd tale or not, start typing and get it on here for those of us less fortunate that have to stay home instead of running all over the globe hunting critters.;)
 
Odd tales are the best ones. I'll check back in later and hope to read the rest of your hunting story.
 
what a build up! you're probably a journalist or that guy that wrote about the grizzly attack in the campground. of course we want to hear about it. we don't visit LRH to hear what Billary or Obama are up to!
 
"The camp boss from Hades " or

"How Jim managed to kill a toothless caribou " Part ONE

You might say that getting there was half the fun . Some would say it was all the fun if they had experienced the trip as I did . While the flight to Montreal via Chicago was everyday stuff , the fun began as we were processing through the initial customs gate at the Montreal airport . Upon hearing me state that Scott and I were traveling together the customs lady ? promptly marked my papers in such a way that I was separated from Scott and had to undergo a lengthy waiting period at an additional immigration queue . When it came my turn with the officer there I was informed that I was an Irishman named James something or the other that I didn't catch .

That will get your heart going loud enough to hear and it doesn't help your knees any either . Stammering that I was James Brown from Ferndale in Arkansas I had the distinct impression that the officer was watching me very carefully with a stern visage . By now I was having images of back rooms ,bright lights and endless questions .

Then his face cracked ,a smile coming over it and he said " O h , my mistake , you just look like him , welcome to Canada , now what is the purpose of your visit " ? Not realizing I didn't have to be specific I blurted out " I want to kill" then froze realizing he may be a antihunter . Smile gone , frown back ." Caribou, caribou ! I spit out ", " I want to hunt caribou !!

I cant tell you how good it was to see that smile return as he handed me my passport and sent me on my way .Weak kneed , smelling of my own sweat I set off in search of Scott .

Fiding him we set off in search of our rifles and gear . Fully expecting some further assaults on my cardiovascular system I tried to brace myself for the experience of claiming two cases stuffed with advanced weaponry and countles rounds of ammunition along with assorted knives , facemasks and the like .

Several long corridors later we came out into a vast area that was totally devoid of peple of any kind . "Of course " , I thought , "all the other people had passed through here claiming their luggage hours ago while I was being assessed as a IRA operative " Nothing but long conveyors coming out of a great wall that appeared to be at least a kilometer away and some tiny specks . A hike across the cavern proved the specks to be our gear and guns . All by themselves , six thousand dollars worth , not a security officer in sight and no one to stop anyone from gathering it up .
 
How Jim killed a toothless caribou - Part TWO

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This nifty ride was awaiting us the next am to deliver us to our next connection in our journey to the land countless caribou . Fresh from a nights rest ,the events of the day before a bad dream , I was renewed in my enthusiasm for the hunt ahead .

Then they put me in a seat directly in line with that enormous propeller . That song from the old " Hee Haw " show started running through my mind , "Gloom, despair and agony on me , deep dark depression excessive misery " and so on . Our initial destination was the airport at Umiujaq ( ooo mere ik ) but as we flew the weather gradually worsened until you couldnt hardly see that hateful prop . Like a condemned man I ate what was sure to be my last meal and watched the snow furiously flying by outside quite convinced that we wouldnt be able to get under the weather to land .

And we couldnt . The pilot , who was obviously a sadist , cheerfully informed us that we had to travel on to another airport in order to be able to land . Not satisfied with giving us this bit to worry at like a bone he proceeded to allow as to how we needed to take on fuel since we were going so far out of the way . No doubt about it , definitely a sadist . Much to my surprise we made it to the next airport , landed safely received our fuel and pressed on to Umiujaq .
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Twin engine Super Otter , the hotrod of the northern skies . A bush landing or takeoff in one of these is , how shall I say it ? ah yes , INTENSE ! Twelve men , tens of thousands of dollars in guns and gear and enough food for a week along with the pilot and copilot make for a lot of weight . No sweat , this baby produces more g force than a 747 taking off . Last leg of the trip , caribou camp next stop and looking at the terrain below I see hundreds of caribou trails in the tundra . Mile after mile we skimmed low because of the weather and there were trails practically all the time . This was more like it , the hunt started occupying my mind again .
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Finally , with what I can only describe as a controlled crash landing ,we put down on a bit of sand approximately the size of a New York parking space and my two thousand plus mile journey came to an end
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How Jim killed a toothless caribou - Part THREE

Lac Minto region , Ungava peninsula , somewhere east of Hudson Bay . In other words a big territory and Scott and I are somewhere in the middle of it . Weather is quite nice , upper forties in the midday and a bit below the freeze point in the night . Wind is a beast though , it will not stop blowing almost the entire time we are there . Anywhere from ten to 35 mph with occasional gustas that may go forty .

The afternoon we arrived at the campsite Scott , being a decade or two my junior was frothing at the bit to " git to it " . Actually Scott will probably be this way well into his old age , just the way the Lord put him together I reckon .

So , he immediately pronounced his desire to take off hunting out of camp on foot as soon as we gathered together to have the " indoctrination " meeting in the mess hall . "

" There will be no hunting until tomorrow " , this pronouncement came from the camp boss whom I had only barely met and was delivered with what seemed to me unnecessary vigor .
A few glances were exchanged among the hunters and Scott stated " I thought we were to be allowed to hunt out of camp the first day " . At this point the exchange became a bit rapid and so it is difficult to accurately reproduce it verbatim . Suffice it to say that it deteriorated to the point that all went silent .

At this time the " camp boss " proceeded to lay down a set of rules in a fashion that one might expect juvenile delinquents to be receipients of while incarcerated at a felony detention center . One of the directives was that if we wernt at the lakeshore to be picked up at a given time we would be left until the next day , regardless of the weather . During this recital he also allowed as to how he was fed up ( he used different words ) folks coming up there to be catered to .

As you might expect the room was quite silent and all twelve of us filed out and headed to our respective cabins . I , myself was taken aback as was Scott but we both determined to put a good face on the matter . I must say that was easier for me to do than Scott because for some reason the "camp boss " had elected to aim his ( tirade ? ) directly at Scott .

Day one , hunting time , daybreak and a bit found us eating a great breakfast prepared by a cheerful and talented French Canadian chef . A really good guy who had taken this job to "experience " the wilds of Ungava . Far better pay was his in Montreal but for him the sights , sounds and isolation were more than worth it .

Full as a tick and eager to hunt we all loaded up in canoes that were made of wood , six feet or better acros the beam and around twenty or so feet long . Freighters they were called and could hold five or six men , gear and still have ability to hold the caribou taken in a days time . Great heavy things with a bow that rose five foot in the air and a square stern that held a forty horse motor they could take abuse from the massive rocks that were all that I could tell was on the floor and bank of Lake Minto . Certainly not any dirt up there , reckon the glaciers brought it all the way down to Arkansas .
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Our taxi driver for the day and indeed for the days to come was a fellow that spoke practically no english at all . A fact that was to exhibit the shortcomings thereof in the days ahead . Gee was friendly enough and more than helpful when the time to get game out but was a bit short when it came to " thinking for hisself " .

Out of the cove the camp was situated on and into a great roaring wind that was driving five foot swells in our face Gee took us around a point and " what ?? proceeded to motor into the cove that was but a stones throw from the camp . Two fingers held aloft he pointed at the father and son in the front of the canoe and called out a time . Discussing this among ourselves we decided that he wanted them to be back at that place at that time .

Shoving off again with difficulty since the wind was hard against us Gee proceeded to motor back out into the open lake at which time he proceeded around another point ...................and into the next cove ! I could plainly see the ridge that separated us from the first cove .

Out of the boat and up the hill was our first goal and once achieved we spotted the father and son . They must have been at least a quarter mile away . Ah well , not to be discouraged we pressed on to the highest ground around and set up our spotting gear .

For the record we were using a Swarovski 20X60 X80 spotting scope and our firearms were a Ultimate Blackpowder 50 cal . and a Chris Matthews prepared 7 STW that was shooting the Cauterucio 176 gr bullets . By the way the Ultimate was being fired with a 200 gr charge of triple 7 behind a 250 gr Parker plastic tipped bullet . Good for half moa at 300 that one . Good Leica glass adorned Scotts eck in the form of the delicious 10 X 42 binocs , while I had to be content with the Nikon 10 x 20 x50 mm binoculars of the latest version . Dont get me wrong , there were times that Scott would say " Let me look through those Jim " when the rasnge was particulrly far . That is , when he didn't just reach and grab them .

The terrain was beautiful , the weather invigorating and I set to with a veangeance looking for caribou to stalk . Scot backed up to me and between us we were watching the full 360 degrees .
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Hopefully someone put some lichens in the camp bosses undies and some ex lax in his coffee..or just simply cracked him in the lip,, I can see from your smile that all went well..Waiting...
 
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