I’ve been a bear hunter my whole life, but grizzly was always the dream. When the time finally came, I reached out to WTA to book a hunt. My someday hunt was finally becoming a reality. I thought I knew what I was hoping for: one good opportunity at a mature grizzly. What actually happened over those 10 days was beyond anything I could have imagined.
My journey began in Anchorage, where I stayed the night before flying into the bush. The outfitter has a liaison in town to help with any last-minute needs, so no rental car was needed. The next morning at Merrill Field, I boarded a turboprop (they use caravans, not tiny Super Cubs) for the 1½-hour flight into hunting country.
At the airstrip, the crew waited with Kong—a massive military deuce-and-a-half that can ford rivers, plus Polaris six-wheelers. After a stop at the roadhouse to organize, we headed to moose camp, about four miles upriver.
The camp itself told stories of 50 years of hunting. Cabin walls covered with dozens of hunters’ stories, as far back as the ’70s. Old regulation books showing $50 polar bear licenses. Boxes of ammo, left behind over decades for anyone who might need them. Four cabins with wood stoves surrounded the main lodge, and there was a creek-fed shower with endless hot water. A crate of beer stays ice-cold in the stream. It’s glorious. Remote Alaska with just enough comfort to keep you hunting hard every day.
From the roadhouse, we spotted two black bears on the mountainside. That evening, the cameraman Jordan and I glassed near camp, getting oriented for what was supposed to be a grizzly-focused hunt.
The next morning, those black bears were still there. We moved in. At 390 yards, with shifting thermals threatening to blow our approach, I took my shot. Low but lethal. Two more shots finished it. While butchering, we discovered this old boar was peppered with birdshot—dozens of pellets in each leg and shoulder. Somewhere, sometime, he’d been a problem bear. He could take a bullet. By 3 p.m., we had meat in the freezer and the hide salted. We were back to looking for grizzly.
Day two took us seven miles up the creek on six-wheelers, somewhat technical riding through river crossings and over rough terrain. Near the old sheep camp, we spotted a sow with three cubs and various black bears, but no boars.
Then everything changed. Rounding an alder-lined corner, our guide hit the brakes. A black bear ahead was acting strangely. It was actually approaching us. Behind him, a grizzly was hunting him, panting from the chase. The black bear, caught between predators, escaped up the cliffs.
The grizzly sat on its haunches, exhausted, looking between us and the black bear as it escaped. This bear was in full predator mode, seemingly calculating whether we might be easier prey. Then he simply lay down for a nap, 400 yards away, completely unconcerned by our presence.
For 34 minutes, I stayed behind the gun. Time passed slowly as we talked through every scenario: “If he does this, we’ll do that.” Finally, he stood and turned broadside at 415 yards. One squeeze, perfect shot placement. He barrel-rolled down the slope.
This was it—the animal I’d wanted forever, taken in a sequence I couldn’t have scripted better. Pure euphoria.
We had two bears down and over a week left of hunting. Day three was Jordan’s birthday, and we decided to get him a bear tag from camp. This would be his first hunt behind a rifle. We picked up a great black bear in no time. Jordan’s demeanor totally changed as he went into hunt mode and put a perfect 350-yard shot right into the bear’s heart. Top-tier birthday!
Three bears in three days with a week remaining. I bought a second tag and grabbed my bow. We spent four days searching for another bear, exploring drainages, following wolf tracks, catching Dolly Varden, and collecting shed antlers. Living the full Alaska experience while always hunting.
On the second-to-last day, I spotted a huge black bear doing loops through berry patches on a steep face. After multiple failed positioning attempts, I opted to go solo while Jordan and our guide filmed from a distance. The bear, hearing me crash through the alders below him, thought I was another bear invading his berries. At nine yards, with his hackles up and ears flat, I put an arrow through his front shoulder. Our group’s fourth bear.
Four bears in four days. An incredible adventure. This was the outfitter’s first year focusing on Fall bear hunting. The populations are thriving (evident from the moose without calves), and they’ve wisely increased tag allocations.
I came to Alaska with a lifelong dream of taking a grizzly. What I got was something I couldn’t have imagined: multiple species, incredible encounters, and memories that transformed a dream hunt into something beyond dreams. The grizzly lying down in front of us, completely unafraid. Jordan’s pure joy at his first bear. Stalking with my bow, close enough to hear the bear growling and clacking its jaws.
Some hunts meet your expectations. This one created new ones. When you book with WTA, you’re not just booking a hunt, you’re setting yourself up for adventures you can’t even imagine.
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