In another lifetime, I was invited to go on a caribou hunt on Adak. Adak, site of a former USAF base 1200 miles from Anchorage, Alaska. In its day, the base probably supported 6000 military and their families. Modern barracks, duplexes and triplexes, a fine school with swimming pool and weight rooms; fire stations and even a McDonalds. The year round population today is under 200. No more quarter pounders with cheese. 


Allegedly the military introduced the caribou as an emergency food source as well as a recreational opportunity for residents. No natural predators on that island. Only the caribou, rats (didn’t see any) and maybe a few foxes left. It’s a surprisingly lush place and the ‘bou thrive. 

With a friend and his two daughters, we boarded a commercial flight out of Anchorage on Thursday with the intent of returning on Sunday. Alaska Airlines flies out there those two days each week. If the weather is OK they land. 

We chartered a boat to take us about an hour down the coast, pitched a couple tents and watched caribou wander around up the mountains about at cloud level as we ate supper. 

Friday we hiked up. A long way up for an old guy with a bad hip.  I watched with her younger sister as Amanda and her dad hiked higher and her effort was rewarded with one shot. 

Saturday as we finished breakfast I told them I was going to hang out in the lower regions and wished them luck.  Figured I’d find a sunny spot out of the breeze and soak in the tranquility. As I peeked over the second or third ridge I spotted a caribou with the same idea.  Quickly dropping back, I got out of my pack and adjusted the Baldwin mid-range for a hundred yards hoping the caribou had not moved too far off during my preparations. He stood wary staring right at my position as I poked the old Pacific in his direction. The .45-70 BP load still does fine. 

It was pretty overcast on Sunday as we drove around with our host awaiting (hopefully) our flight. We could hear it circling as he stopped to chat with a guy sitting in his truck on a hill overlooking the airport. Getting back in the vehicle he told us we had to get to the airport as the guy told him the plane was going to be landing right away. I was curious how a guy in his truck on a hill would know that. Our host said that guy is the air traffic controller.  He’d looked at the overcast and radioed the plane that it was safe to land. So when you hear “We’ve been cleared for landing,” you’ll know.

Very cool story! Love the gun, and I'd love to hunt caribou some day too! That's a nice one!

And a lot heavier to pack uphill.