1989: I had hunted that year with the usual bunch and we had all gotten our Moose early in the season. A young Airman from Eielson AFB wanted to get a Moose so after I had finished my regular hunt I decided to take him out. I had just recieved a gun back from the gunsmith after having it Parkerized. I had sent a Mauser action in and had a .35 Whelen barrel fitted, with peep sites. After sighting it in at the range the day before we left I decided to take it along. We went out the trail and camped at Fish Creek. Checking the gut piles from the earlier Moose I seen a Grizzly had been in the area. The first two days were uneventful. Early in the morning on the third day, I heard something outside. I thought it was possiably a Moose. I awoke my partner, we slipped out of our sleeping bags, and stepped into our boots. As I pulled up the zipper on the tent the Moose started running down the trail. We stepped out and watched him running away. I grunted like a Bull Moose and the Bull stopped and turned broadside looking back at us. Gary took his shot, right behind the shoulder. The .375 H&H bullet exited the far side spraying blood over the snow. The Moose turned and ran into the willows. Gary and I followed to see if he was down. As we went by the place where the Moose had been shot, we heard a Woof. We looked up and there stood a Grizzly. The bear was standing on his hind legs looking at us, at the edge of the bloody area. Immediately Gary started with a string of profanities, in short his gun was jammed and he could not reload a new round into the chamber. The Grizzly roared, I threw up my gun and fired. My sight picture just before the gun fired was of a bear coming down onto allfores. I had been aiming for the center of his chest, but felt I had held the shot too long. Instantly I thought: "Too late! I can't work the bolt fast enough to make a second shot! My first shot was too high!" I fully expected to get hit before I could reload. I worked the bolt as fast as I could, sighted for the bear. He was lying in the snow not moving. I moved up and made sure it was dead. There we stood two guys in their shorts, tee shirts, and boots. Temp in the twenties, and we were sweating.
We went back to the tent and got dressed. We built a fire, ate breakfast, cleaned my gun, tried fixing Gary's gun, got out my shotgun, and all the time watching that bear. After two hours we went back that long 75 yards to start the job of skinning. At first we could not find the bullet hole. I knew I had been aiming for his chest, but there was no bullet hole. Gary looked in the mouth and noticed most of the tounge was blowen away. He followed the bullet path back to the back of the mouth, through the throught and into the spine.
After our close encounter Gary took the gun back to the dealer, he explained what had happened. The dealer showed him a service bulletin from the manufactor about the problem dated a year earlier. Seven or eight months before Gary bought his gun. That gun shop went out of business shortly thereafter. Oh yes Gary got the bear, I did not have a Grizzly tag, he did.
