"Mancation" 08 (men's vacation)

Finally. I had been telling my good friend Bart Neyman about my Alaskan exploits for several years. He, like all others never having visited the Great Land, was growing tired of the stories and passing them off as exaggeration. Well, now he knows its all true.

Bart and I made our way northwest in August to join my lifelong friend Andrew Warren to make good on a "mancation." A few pals doing nothing but hiking, fishing, camping, hunting, etc... To say we had fun would be a serious understatement.


Matanuska River winding into the sunset
Quartz Creek, Kenai Peninsula

Roadside vista from Seward Highway


We started out after chum and pink salmon in Bird Creek which feeds the Turnagain Arm. It took a bit to get Bart dialed in on the whole salmon snagging thing. Once we got him going, we couldnt pull him away from the river.

double on chums

Bart lands a Pink

One ugly face (you pick)

doubles on Pinks

And then the real fun started...
We continued on to the Kenai Peninsula to fish the confluence of the Russian and Kenai Rivers. This is the most productive Sockeye fishery in the world. It is a dream destination for a fly-fisherman. Arriving in Cooper Landing, we got some grub, set up the pop-up, built a fire, and started talking about the day and the days to come. I am not someone who ever thought about fly-fishing back here in NC. I do, though, have a bunch of fun punking out all those who spend hours in the NC mountains to catch fingerlings. I usually start out by saying, "Oh, you fly-fish? I have been wanting to get into that, but I dont know where to start here in NC." Then they go on and on about their success and secrets. After this goes on for a bit, they drop their biggest fish story. This is usually where I mention my few trips to Alaska to fish. Yes, 24" Rainbows every day, 16" keeper limit (have to be smaller than 16" to keep), fish for 5 hours and catch 20 fish - all too big to keep, Dollys, Char, Greyling, Etc... Kicking dozens of salmon out of the way to get to the trout...The looks are priceless. It is an ambush for thunder-stealing, but I love it.

Bart's anticipation was at a high as we marched down the stairway to heaven (stairs off the parking area down to the river). It was a foggy morning with the mist covering the water. Bart, Andrew and I donned the waders and slipped into the pristine water. This is not the most remote place in AK, but it is one of my favorites. I look forward to every time I fish this awesome place.

Bart has a fish-on in the Russian

Bart with a whopper of a Red Salmon

Bart with the trip's second biggest Rainbow


Me with the BIGGEST Rainbow of the trip...

A grizzly joined us at mid-day


Another good Rainbow

Andrew with a Silver Salmon caught on light line and tackle (we thought it was a mammoth rainbow until it hit the beach)

Andrew with a nice Dolly Varden

Bart had the hot-hand on the gnarly Reds

My much acclaimed and hard-earned COHO Salmon

We took an afternoon to hike up the Slaughter Creek Trail to see the views. We spotted caribou, black bear, and Dall sheep among others. We should have brought the rifle as we spotted a really nice blackie in range, with the wind in our favor...big time regrets there.

The view from Slaughter Creek. Overlooking the the Kenai River flowing out of Kenai Lake.

Andrew, Julie and Isaac

Myself, Andrew, Isaac, Stephanie, Julie, and Grampy on the bank of the mighty Kenai.

Julie and some of her family joined us in Cooper Landing to eat at Gwin's Sushi Bar (my favorite restaurant). Afterwards, we went back to camp to prepare for one more morning of fishing and getting back on the road towards Anchorage to clean up, wash some clothes, and road it out up to the Denali Highway.



The second leg of our Mancation took us into the interior. We set out for the Denali Highway. We were on a quest for remote greyling fishing. We found it.

Our ride with pop-up in-tow. Andrew is glassing for Moose.

We drove deep into the night on some sketchy tires on the pop-up. It is a relic of yesteryear. The tires were too. As we reached the Denali Highway, we no sooner asked how much further in we wanted to drive before camping when, POW! flap flap flap flap flap flap....blown tire. How about here??! It worked out perfectly. A little work with the jack and we had replaced the tire with a pile of firewood. We slept like bugs in a rug. Well except for Bart. It was quite a bit colder there and he was not in on the finer techniques of staying warm during cold weather camping. Night #2 and he was set to go.


Views of the interior


Let the greyling begin...

We started out on Rock Creek. This is a roadside run that looks devoid of life. But, Andrew showed me the way, and within 5 minutes, I had a greyling on the line. These are awesome little fish. They are like a trout with a sailfish fin. We fished this creek for several hours until our stomachs were screaming for lunch.

Afterwards, we hiked a couple of miles into Landmark Gap Lake and fished the creek that flowed from it. We absolutely destroyed the greyling here. It was ridiculous. Top water flies, sinkers, whatever you threw, they ate it. We had a blast.

Bart with his first Greyling

Nice pic of a Rock Creek Greyling

Fishing on Landmark Gap Creek
Doubles on Rock Creek Greyling


Enjoying unspoiled creation at Landmark Gap Lake

It was a hard trip to beat, but I'll definitely have to try some day. Did I mention that I really love visiting Alaska? It is as God intended the world to be. You need to visit someday....if you already have, then take a buddy...

The next morning, we decided to try our hand on Tangle River. We were growing tired of taking fish off our lines. We hammered the fish on this short little river. After inhaling several million gnats, we headed in for breakfast/lunch, a new tire, and a long drive back to Andrew's house. We bought two tires at Tangle River Inn (only civilization for 3 million miles) and prayed our way back to Anchorage as they looked worse than the one that blew out.

We made back, did the gift shopping and city touring, and wound things up. A long flight back to NC found us yacking our jaws for months to those unable to join us on the trip. None of them believe us either, they will just have to see for themselves.

Unbelievable trip, good friends, good food, awesome camping, out of this world fishing, pristine creation, bears, caribou, sheep, good weather, and unforgettable memories etched in the stones that line the river bottoms - I can almost feel them under my boots. I cant wait to go back...

showertime

...had to find a new way to use my waterproof camera, you know, since I never kayak anymore...

What about that spot?

"What about that spot?"

My friend and wildlife artist (taxidermist), Chuck, has a beautiful hunting farm in a nearby county. Almost every year I will accompany him to the farm for a few hunts here and there. Sometimes it is for turkeys, sometimes for deer. He has been hunting the farm for over 20 years. He has a commanding grasp of the animal behavior and patterns on the farm. We generally do very well at turkey and deer hunting. My first big buck came off the farm as well. Yet, every time we pull up to hunt, we park at the mouth of a very large field where an oak finger of woods about 100 yards wide cuts the farmland in half. I always make the comment, I bet there are deer running all through here. It is a point that we must park somewhere and this is the most logical choice. However, I couldnt shake the feeling that it was a great funnel for the deer activity. Year after year, hunt after hunt, we would make our hunting location selections and disperse into the hundreds of acres and various proven stand locations.

I actually was fortunate to accompany him several times this year to this farm and others. I almost shot a 140 class 8 pointer off the "Pete's Stand" location (named after me when I shot my first good buck on 9/11 2001). I watched him for an hour make his way from his scrape into the soybeans in my direction. He jumped back into the woods and then ran off a smaller (but still nice) buck. He returned to the bean field. I hesitantly made a few grunts and he started heading in my direction. But you know, that would be too easy. A punk yearling doe came in behind me and caught my wind. She proceeded to embark on a wild deterioration of my otherwise perfect set up literally moments from arrowing the big brute. He was only 10 yards away but she was in a knockdown dragout staring contest with me and waiting for any movement. I couldnt draw my bow. The buck was totally unaware of the situation. She just wouldnt let it go - come on - just leave - PLEASE!!! Yes, I am a hunter in a tree, big deal, you found me, you won, just leave and nobody gets hurt (except the buck - but I didnt suggest that to her). She finally just couldnt stand it and snorted like she never snorted before. For a deer, that is a successful hunt. She won, she lived, she probably told all her friends back in the thicket that she busted the "big bad hunter". But that is bow hunting and the big bruiser still ghosts through the woods today.

We returned several times to make a run at arrowing the big guy. No luck. I even brought a videographer out with me on one of the tries. Gun season came and still no sign of the monster. One evening brought success to Chuck's son, Cody, as he shot a good 7 point buck trailing a doe. It had a totally broken jaw and blown out eye socket. No wonder the doe was running. That same night, another family member got a look at the big 8 pointer. It offered no shot, just a brief glimpse.

Not winning any beauty contests.

I shot a great 8 pointer at a different hunting spot one evening. Feeling the magic, I begged my wife for permission to hunt again in the morning. We all returned to the farm the next morning. When deciding where to hunt, I made the comment, "what about that spot". Wanting to mix things up, we thought it would be a good idea. I hadnt been into that section of woods in years and Chuck gave me a brief idea of what to look for. I knew the general layout from my studies of the aerial photos and topo maps I use when preparing a game plan for the hunting property. But it turned out to be maybe my favorite hunting morning ever.

There was a fresh glaze of snow on the ground, which is a very rare treat for central NC hunters. Snow was still falling. We all made our way to our morning spots. Mine was an adventure in unfamiliarity. A short walk of a few hundred yards down the field edge and a right turn into the woods - go perpendicular off the field for 50 to 60 yards around some pine blowdowns then turn left and go 50 yards northwest until you find a good tree. This would put me in the narrowest part of the funnel of woods. The snow made it easy to see my surroundings. I found a perfect tree for my climbing stand - a 16" diameter perfectly straight for 40 ft. poplar in the perfect spot with a cappuccino machine in the top of it. That almost never happens. I hear a shot from the other side of the farm. Either Chuck or his cousin has shot on the way to the stand. Usually means a buck running away from a 10 minutes too late hunter.

Up I go. I am sitting semi reclined 40 feet off the forest floor waiting for morning. I can peer into the field behind me and see a doe feeding. Snow is still falling. It is 30 degrees with a small breeze and I am warm. I couldnt imagine a prettier sunrise. The woods are just waiting to start crawling with deer. still waiting, and waiting. Nothing. I like to hunt hero or zero spots. This is looking like a zero.

My friends and family are calling from different areas talking about their morning. Pat has seen a several - his farm is an indicator of general deer activity everywhere. Matt's daughter Kat (my cousin) has shot her first buck and little Matt is tracking it. Chuck has seen a few including some small buck. The shot was his cousin's. It was at a big buck running a doe in the field he was heading to. I was talking to Matt on the phone describing my spot. I mentioned how perfect it looked, but without the deer I had expected.

A small punk yearling doe emerged from the pine thicket at the corner of the field. Well, well, well, wouldnt you know who it is. And yep, she found me. Now I take great pride in remaining as scent-free as humanly possible while hunting. Wash all clothing after every use in scent free detergent, shower before every hunt with scent free/eliminating soap, wear rubber boots who's souls have never seen anything except hunting ground, scent free deodorant, scent free spray, on and on. I almost never get busted. It is not possible to be totally scent free as breath and dander are biologically unavoidable. But I try my hardest, yet here we are again with my old nemesis.

After about ten minutes or so of Nervous Nelly down below, she sheepishly sneaks out of the area without the familiar "OH-MY-GOSH!! ITS A HUNTER!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!" episode. Maybe she felt sorry for ruining my previous hunt. Not ten minutes later, I hear some ruckus off to my right.

Some motion followed by a deep grunt send the alarm bells off. I look up to see some brown deer parts, but my view is somewhat blocked by the 100 yards of oak forest between myself and the deer. I know there is a buck there due to the grunt. The question is what kind of buck is it. Wind is knocking the snow off the branches and it glistens in the sunlight. This is like a dream. During a wind gust, the deer ran for a few feet and disappeared again. I heard a large stick crack off further right. Did they just run away? 3 or 4 minutes go by until I see the unforgettable sight of lots of rack sitting on top of lots of buck. Up comes the gun. There are several branches in my way and the buck needs to take half a step to be in a 10" hole of open air that I can shoot through. He stays put for several moment before he begins to move. Finally, he cooperates. A pull of the trigger and straight down he goes. Several does run off in a blaze. Ahhhhhh......From Zero to Hero in 5 minutes. I make all the usual calls on the cell phone and climb down to see my buck.

Everything went right. I had a plan, it worked. I made a perfect shot. The snow in the forest made it special, and it couldnt have been a better hunt. I didnt get the giant 140" 8 pointer, but maybe someone else will. I think when God was bringing babies into the world on June 26 1975, he looked down, shook His head and said, "This one is going to love to hunt." It turned out to be a mainframe 10 pointer with a small kicker that makes him an 11 pointer. Not my biggest buck, non of us had even seen him before, but it was just a classic, unforgettable hunting morning. Can't wait to have one of these mornings with my son!

Thursday night and Friday Morning.

Timing is Everything. The big one I almost got a shot at in bow season will have to wait till next year.