A lot of the best lessons in my life have been learned through hunting. Lessons that don’t only apply to hunting but to almost everything in life. Anybody that knows me knows that once I start telling hunting and trapping stories I tend to talk and talk often getting off subject so for today ill just talk about this one time when I was about 11 years old and my grandpa and I had a harder than usual caribou hunting trip. Caribou were scarce that fall before freeze up and we didn’t have the usual amount for ourselves and for sharing with others. Once late September rolled around and the ground was frozen just enough we started looking around but there was no caribou to be seen that fall.

It was now late October and Once again We left Aklavik well before daylight making our way through the old mountain trail that has a lot of stories of its own. We were headed for John Martin Creek and the familiar cabin that sits on the hill. Most years we might’ve ran into a herd close to the first big hill but not on this trip. After settling into the cabin we packed our day bags in preparation for a hunt. The two of us headed south towards the head of willow river stopping to look around with binochulars for caribou, tracks or the craters in the snow where they have been feeding but time and time again our search was coming up empty. Travelling conditions weren’t the best at that time of year with such little snow cover but we kept going anyways. It was pretty hard for me to keep up with my Grandpa once he set his mind on something, especially finding caribou, but I loved the challenge so I did my best. A couple moose were pretty tempting as they chewed on willows in the creek but they would be around all winter. Besides, we were looking for caribou and we had a few days to find some.
Our last stop of the day was on a high hill overlooking a very big valley. A place you could expect to see caribou if they were in the area. I was already scanning the land while my Grandpa poured himself a cup of hot tea from his thermos. After a few minutes I said there was no caribou but my Grandpa, without binochulars, pointed to a faint line on the far hillside and said that looks like caribou tracks. Sure enough it was.
We got our guns ready and made our way down towards the tracks and as we travelled a few caribou starting making their way out of the creek below us. With my Grandpa in the lead we used the terrain to stay low and get as close as we could. Everything worked out perfectly and before long we had our load of caribou down.
Back then we always stopped shooting at 14 caribou. That was what we could haul in two canvas toboggans. Of those 14 we would usually give out half to those that couldn’t hunt for themselves mostly elders and widows so nothing went to waste. Even the bones were smashed and boiled to make grease.
About halfway through the butchering the weather started turning cold. One of those days where the cold shows up as a wall of fog slowly moving in on you. Keep in mind we were working hard and sweating. We got our sleds loaded just before dark and started back to the cabin bouncing along at a slow pace as we pulled our heavy loads of valuable cargo. Back then I didn’t really keep up but as long as I could see the tail light of my Grandpas skidoo I figured I was doing ok. Turns out we couldn’t climb back up the steep bank to get out of the creek so we decided to follow the creek bottom back to camp. There wasn’t much choice so off we went navigating through rocks that sometimes caught our skis and made us spin out. Sometimes we would drop through the hollow ice and get stuck that way too. I say we but I think it was mostly me getting stuck. Getting “unstuck” can be a lot of work. I lost count of the times I had to disconnect my toboggan that night. Before long I was pretty exhausted and I could feel the cold making its way through several layers of damp clothes.

Up to this point the creek water was shallow but there is one section where the water is deep enough to get into some serious trouble so following the creek was now out of the plan. We found a place where the bank wasn’t too steep so we cut a few willows and piled some snow to make it easier to climb out. Easier said than done. We just couldn’t get out of the creek. After a few tries I felt like giving up. I was cold, tired, hungry and it just didn’t feel like we were going to make it. If I was alone I think I would’ve went to sleep right there but my Grandpa said some thing to the effect of “Anything worth doing is going to be hard. We have two choices. We can either find a way to get it done or give up. Its that simple”
Both thermoses were empty. Our lunch was eaten earlier. My legs felt like jelly. I felt like giving up but he was right, we did only have two options. My Grandpa was digging around in his hunting bag and he pulled out a can of Mandarine oranges. He opened it with his knife and handed it to me.
They were almost completely frozen but to this day I don’t remember another time that anything tasted so good. I thought about what he said about only having two options and between that and the frozen oranges I felt a renewed motivation to get it done. The sky was clearing and in the light of the full moon I could see the cabin in the distance. If only we could get these two heavy sleds from where they were to the top of the bank we would be home free. Once again we piled snow. My grandpa started his skidoo and Gave it more throttle this time. He Made it! I started my skidoo and was getting ready to hit that cursed bank at full throttle but my Grandpa came down and said he can drive it up. I didn’t argue and just like that we had our loads back on high ground. My grandpa went ahead since it was easy from here and about half an hour later I pulled up to the cabin with smoke and sparks shooting out of the chimney. We couldn’t just leave the meat to freeze together so we dug into a snow drift like always and buried the meat. Once everything was done I just sat there and looked up the creek where we just came from. What seemed impossible earlier was now done. Many times since I’ve run into similar situations in hunting and in lifes struggles and those words always came back into my mind. Anything worth doing will be hard and when you hit adversity you can choose to sit there in the creek shivering or you can find a way to succeed. It really is that simple.

Oh and by the way I still eat frozen canned oranges to this day.

Great story. Good lesson. Can you elaborate on what a "canvas toboggan" is?

Old style wooden sled with canvas wrapper. Everyone used them before the fibreglass sleds showed up. My grandparents used to redo all the lashing on my grandpas two sleds with caribou hide about every two years

Good story Ryan
many a downfall has been an empty thermos before the end of the day
2 scoops of honey X thermos.....sure is nice for that buzz

Great story Ryan ! Spending time with grandparents is important that's for sure !

Grandpas like that are pretty valuable, thanks for sharing.

This picture will probably post small but our sled were something like this. I did a lot of miles standing on the back of a toboggan. Fell off and/or got dragged a few times too.Haha. Good times. We had a box built into the handle bar area and that’s where we kept our axe. If nobody was handling sled then we tied 2 jerry cans on the back. We always did the full job of butchering all the meat right on the kill sight too.
One year just before the rut when caribou bulls were as prime as they’ll be all year myself my grandpa and my friend blue shot 17. What a job that was. Lakes were just barely thick enough to avoid the real rough tundra. Quite the rush pulling 6 mature bulls on thin ice to save time and energy not to mention abuse on the equipment. I think I was 16 years old at the time with 5 more years experience after the rough trip I wrote about earlier. We ran into a big herd. I’d say about 4000 give or take. I led the way this time through a low route and when we climbed out they were everywhere around us. Nice line of about 20 mature bulls were right in front of me so I knocked down 6 for myself and 3 for blue to fill his sled. He shot 3 as well so we both had our load within 3-4 minutes of shooting. I looked off to my right and I could see my grandpa staying along the edge of the herd. They weren’t running or anything. He disappeared over the hill as we pulled all the dead caribou to one spot. After a couple minutes we heard one shot then back to driving. Wasn’t sure what my grandpa was doing. Then another single shot. 5 shots all together separated each time by a couple minutes. We could hear the skidoo getting closer now. Sounded like it was working pretty hard too. My grandpa came over the hill pulling two of the biggest caribou I’ve ever seen yet to this day. Said he had 3 more to pick up plus his sled. Me and blue went and helped him get everything in one trip then we all spent the next several hours working. Turns out he went and hand picked 5 of the biggest ones in the herd. That hunt sure fed a lot of people. Didn’t mean to make this long of a post but I thought of the trip while I was skinning rats before.

We were using these sleds by that time.

Good stuff Ryan. Been there done that especially on the trips when it turns bad cold and gone for days. Nothing of course compared to way, way back in the day. Lashing not a term you hear much anymore. Used to lash the komatit and lash on everything that went on them. Now all nails and komatik boxes.

Woo hoo!

It was a good ride ! Thanks

I got this 243 when I was 10 after shooting my first caribou. It was a gift from my late grandma Esther. I used it for a good part of my most active years until it broke in an unfortunate hunting accident involving a very big wolverine and some very rough terrain. Young and dumb.
Parts weren’t easy to find but I managed to get a mainspring tube and firing pin follower made. It’s been wrapped up soaked in oil for at least a year. Got it all cleaned up now and redid the blueing. I’ll do a good barrel cleaning and reassemble soon. Lots of adventures with this old BLR.

That part is all done.

Very nicely done Ryan those are a good rifle I've got a cousin who shoots one and he loves it !
A good hand me down rifle to !

One of many projects on the go but a sentimental one for sure.
Phone battery is going to die pretty quick here

Sure feels good.

Your rifle project turned out very nice that will bring home a lot of meat for many years to come !

Very nice rifle! About how for do you shoot? On average.

100-150 yards average. I like sneaking in close though and comfortable taking longer shots when I have to