Fellows I was looking for something today and found a disk that I had copied some stories over from the old H&R site. I'll try and put them on here. Mostly for those that never got the chance to read them. Sourdough.
Van Smith and I were hunting Moose in the Ship Creek drainage, near Anchorage. We had trailered the horses up Artic Valley road and went in from the Military land. About two miles down the trail, the trail split and went around a grove of aspen then came back togeather about three quarters of a mile further down. Van and I spent four days in there, and Van got a nice moose the third day. Since the weather was not cold enough for meat to keep we decided to come out early. As we neared the split in the trail my saddle horse Charro, started getting spooky. When we reached the split he refused to take the shorter upper trail. Trusting him to know something I didnot we took the longer lower trail. About half way around the loop Charro faced up hill and walked sideways for about 100 yards. I could tell he definately did not like something up hill from us. He then seemed in a big hurry to get on up the trail. With Charro concentrating his attention on our back trail, he was surprised when a man, walking fast down the trail almost walked into him, right after the splits came back togeather. This person was in a hurry to catch up with his daughter and son-in-law that had gone in earlier that day. He was traveling light with only a rifle and canteen, and hurrying so much he was concentrating on the trail and not what was around him. I started to tell him that something was spooking the horses on the upper trail, but he did not have time to listen. He went on down the trail almost running, and he took the upper fork. Van and I had only gone about two hundred yards up the trail when we heard four fast shots, then someone screaming. I turned Charro around and rode back to Van to discuss wheather one of us or both should go back. We realised the screaming was getting closer. Suddenly Charro snorted and allerted that something was coming up the trail. I rode back to the first bend, here came the hurrying gentleman, now running. As he approached he started screaming he needed more shells for his gun! Also that we needed to get back to the road fast. I asked him what was the reason for all the excitement, he could not talk, he kept asking for more .338 shells. I told him that I was not carrying a .338, and had no shells he could use. He took off running up the trail. I turned Charro and followed. When we reached Van, Van had got off his horse, stopped him and was calming him down a bit. This guy told us he had ran into four Grizzly Bears. He shot three and the fourth one was out there somewhere looking for him. Also he had not killed some of the ones he shot and that they were roaring and moving around. He was scarred. Almost to the point of total panic. He had used all four of the shells he had in his gun, the rest was in his truck at the trail head. Van was carrying a 7MM Mag, I was carrying a .350 Rem Mag. I gave him my gun, took his keys to his truck, and rode up to the trail head to get his box of shells. Van convinced him that we had to go back and check the downed animals, to make sure that they were dead. It would not do to let wounded Grizzlies get away on this heavily used trail system. While I was at the truck getting this guy's box of ammo, I stopped a passing car and asked the occupants to notify the Troopers, about three down and wounded bears on the trail. These folks instead notified the Military Police at Fort Richardson. The MPs came running up there like gangbusters to catch suspected poachers, only to find out it was off the military land. Mean time I went back down to where Van and this guy were sitting on the trail. A couple of hikers had showed up, coming up the trail. The hikers had taken the lower trail luckily. I asked them to lead the pack horses out to my trailer and to just tie them to the trailer. I would unload them when I returned shortly. Van and I rode back to the trail split and tied our horses. We then walked with this fellow to the area where the bears were. One bear was wounded but unable to get up, the fellow shot it. The other two were dead already. No sign of the fourth bear. We could see where they had pulled down a Moose and had been feeding on it. This guy finally told us what had happened. He had been hurrying along the trail, when he heard a Whoof. He looked up and a Grizzly was charging him, he shot it. (This was the old sow, the rest were two year old cubs). Then bear number two charged him, he shot it. Bear number three charged, he shot it. then bear number two got up and started his way, he shot it again. Now he is out of shells and bear number four has disappeared. That's when he went running for us. We went and blocked the upper trail with yellow tape to keep hikers off the upper trail. We took him back to the trail head, only to meet the MPs. They tried to arrest Van and I for poaching Moose on military land. I had to take them down and show them the BLM marker to prove that we had been off the military reservation, This became a big fieasco. The Troopers finally showed up and sorted everything out. This guy had to go back and skin all three bears, and flesh the skulls. He then had to turn all three hides and skulls in to the Dept of Fish and Game. I have to say this was one lucky Son of a Gun. If bear number four had charged or he had not had one in the chamber and three in the magazine, it would have been cancel Christmas for him. Then again he was awful dumb, to not carry extra ammo, and to be unaware of his surroundings in the wilderness. He never did meet his daughter and son-in-law. Van and I decided to hunt else where the following year. Thats another story, about how horses and bears don't mix.
Just think about it? How would you have liked to have been the one out there skinning those three bears and knowing that there was a fourth one lurking somewhere in the woods nearby? Possiably with a vengence!
