Bonding Over Bear Hunting - A Father And Son Bag A Huge Bear In The Alaskan Wilderness

By Dick Scorzafava

You can't plan life's perfect moments, but sometimes you can nudge things in the right direction. I'd wanted to take my son Tony bear hunting in Alaska for a long time. I chose Alaska because it's truly the last frontier, and without a doubt one of the most spectacular places on the planet. Everywhere you look, its scenery will literally take your breath away.

So, there was no hesitation in my answer when my good friend Scott Eggemeyer from Bear Paw Drifters called and invited my son and me to come up and spend a few days fishing with him.

Scott dropped us off at the boat dock in Homer after showing Tony some of the special places along Alaska's Kenai Peninsula during our three day fishing adventure.

We planned to then spend some time with Mike Flores. He owns Ninilchik Charters, a company that provides transportation to your chosen hunting area and lodging on boats and skiffs. These boat-based trips generally last five days, and are basically self-guided bear hunts. Once the bear hunters arrive in the bear hunting area, the skiffs transport the bear hunters to land. Ninilchik Charters can in no way assist in the bear hunt by spotting bears, carrying harvested animals from the field to the skiff, or skinning and preparing the bear meat to take home. Bear hunters are, basically, on their own doing this type of hunt. I figured it would be a great way to spend some quality time with my son.

We visited with Mike on the 70-footer "Sunday" which would be our home for the next five days, while we waited for the remainder of our group to arrive. TV host Tony Smotherman and cameraman Scott Robb were going to film the trip for our "Knight Born to Hunt" television show.

After we set sail Captain Mike told our crew we should be in the first hunting area by 2:00 a.m., so we could get up at 5:00 a.m., have breakfast, and start hunting bright and early. The seas were very rough on our way to the hunting area and several of us, including me, didn't sleep well. When we finally arrived I could hear the wind pounding the heavy rain into the deck of our boat. I knew the bears would not move much in these conditions, so we all decided to sleep in and catch up on some much-needed shut-eye.

Later in the day the rain let up considerably, so we all dropped our lines to the 160-foot bottom and jigged for halibut while glassing for any bear movement on the beaches and mountain sides. We did hook into and boat several halibut, but nothing worth keeping to fillet up for the freezer. By dusk the rain had finally stopped, and we did glass a few bears out feeding, but they were too far up the mountain to attempt any kind bear hunting before darkness fell.

Over the next few days we had several rainy periods, but that is expected in this part of Alaska, especially in the spring. During these times we fished for halibut and finally put some unexceptional, but good-for-eating fish in the freezer. We did get to shore during the breaks when the animals were moving, glassed what we thought looked like good bears and stalked them. They were either smaller then we estimated, or went around, above, or below our position out of range. We only had one more day for bear hunting before heading back to the dock, and I was praying for a break in the weather so the animals would really start moving.

Upon awakening on our final day, it was a Godsend to see the sun out with a beautiful blue sky. After breakfast, everyone loaded their gear into the skiffs and headed for shore. My son, Tony, and I were the last ones to go ashore, so I decided to have our transporter take us up a river that was flowing into the bay, where the Sunday was anchored. We glassed a few bears on our voyage up the river, but I was looking for something specific in the landscape that would cause bears to want to use that area more frequently in their travels. Finally, we came upon a long wide beach with a southwest exposure that had more green vegetation than anywhere else we had been. It also had roaring streams running into the river in two places that could muffle any sounds we made. I told our skiff operator that was the spot we wanted to get dropped for our last bear hunt. 

We packed up our gear and walked the beach. I told Tony as we walked that when the tide goes out, I believed the bears would come to the beach and dig for razor clams and mussels. Until then they would be feeding on the green vegetation, especially the large fiddle heads we had been seeing over the last couple days. When we got to the first stream, I noticed a very well worn bear trail about 30 yards to the right. I pointed it out to Tony and told him it was a major trail the bears were using to get back and forth to the beach. We walked further down the beach and I spotted what I thought was a good bear feeding in an open park area about a mile up the mountain. After glassing the bear for several minutes we decided to stalk him, hoping to head him off in the corner of the park area.

It took us about an hour to negotiate the climb to the area we wanted to set up, in hopes of ambushing the bear. We set up in a corner to have the wind in our favor and both glassed, trying to spot him heading in our direction in the event we had to move to be in his path. After three and a half hours, I told Tony he must have bedded down or moved around us out of our sight window. I suggested we go back down to the beach and set up to do some bear hunting next to that trail we had found, because the tide is out and the bears should be going to the beaches to dig for clams. Tony was apprehensive, and debated if we should move or not. For some reason he felt this was a great location, and if we stayed there, the bear would eventually come into our view. I finally convinced him our best opportunity would be back down on the beach, so we slowly made our way back down the mountain side. The traverse down was very slow because the mountain was so steep, and the footing was extremely treacherous because of snow runoff. It was good thing we were both wearing our Russell Moccasin Boots.  

We were about ten yards off the beach, on a steep incline just to the right of the bear trail we had found earlier, when I spotted a good bear coming down the beach in our direction. I hand-signaled Tony to come to me and showed him the bear. He looked at me and smiled. The bear was 247 yards down the beach on my range finder. He was digging for clams and heading in our direction.  I told Tony that the bear was going to come right to us and we decided to set up right here and wait. Tony set up his shooting sticks and loaded his Knight KP1 chambered in 45-70 Gov't., with Hornady's new LEVERevolution ammunition, and positioned it on the sticks.
 
I whispered to Tony that this was a perfect setup since we were in the shadows of the trees, the wind was perfect, and the roaring water in the stream would completely eliminate any noise we made. We also both wore our Scent-Lok outfits that would further eliminate any tell-tale human scent that went in the bear's direction. We were ready, now we just had to wait!
 
Slowly and meticulously the bear moved closer to our ambush location as he dug for clams on the beach. Tony put up the rangefinder and whispered, "He's exactly 150 yards away, and I can take him right there." Ah, the impatience of youth. I immediately shook my head no and explained closer is better, especially with bears. I was confident he was coming right to us, so he could use the trail to get back into cover. I reminded him to have patience and wait it out. I could tell from his reaction he didn't like my answer. I know my son. He was really pumped up at this point and didn't want to miss an opportunity at this monster bear. He felt confident he could take the bear from there with the KP1, and he probably could have. But why take any chances on a great bear when he was coming right to our location?
 
The bear was on the edge of a deep cut in the beach that was about 60 yards long, and if he entered it, he would be out of our sight. Tony kept looking over at me waiting for me to give him the okay to take the bear. I just watched the bear intently, and kind of ignored his stares while he disappeared out of our sight. Time started ticking off the clock. Five minutes had gone by since he disappeared out of our sight, and then it was ten minutes. I could just tell by looking at Tony that he was really disappointed. I could read his mind. He was thinking, "I never should have listened to my dad. I had the bear in my sights. OK, it wasn't a perfect shot but at least I had one. Now he's gone." I totally ignored his reaction and just kept staring at the cut where the bear disappeared.

After fifteen minutes passed Tony couldn't hold it in anymore. He told me he was going down there to the corner to look into the cut. Maybe he would still be able to get a shot. I instantly gave him a firm "No." I explained to him that he might bump the bear going down there, and if he got a shot it will not be a good one. He could count on that.
 
I could see it in his face now. He thought good old dad had screwed up his bear hunt, and he was going home without his trophy bear. He was going home without even a shot at one.  A couple more minutes past, and suddenly the bear came out of the cut on the beach, right in front of us at under 50 yards.

I looked at Tony, smiled, and then said, "Whenever you're ready, take him." His face showed intense concentration as he pulled the hammer back on the KP1, slid the safety off, took careful aim through the Alpen scope, and slowly squeezed the trigger until it fired, breaking the peaceful silence and sending the 325 grain Hornady bullet to its target. The roar of the Knight KP1, and the instant smack of the bullet hitting the bear, was like music to my ears, and the greatest sound I had heard in a long time.
 
The bear immediately dropped in its tracks and never moved again. I smiled at my son and yelled out loud, "Great shot, buddy, you really anchored that bear!" We did a few high fives as we made our way over to the bear lying on the beach. Tony asked how big I thought the bear was, and I responded, "Very big." When we reached the animal, Tony was literally shaking he was so excited. He got down on his knee and rubbed his hand through the extremely thick coal black fur on his bear. He then picked up and looked at the very large front paws and long claws.

He wrapped his arms around the bear's head and said, "What do you think of the pumpkin head on him dad?"

I replied, "Tony that is truly a monster bear, and I'm so proud of you. That is the kind of bear every bear hunter hopes to harvest during their lifetime, and you did it on your first bear." We did this hunt on our own, without a guide. We did it our way and succeeded, which is really special. 
 
I could tell by Tony's body language and facial expressions that he was literally on cloud nine at this point, and the adrenaline was really flowing. Isn't that what bear hunting is all about -- creating memories with the special people in our lives that we care about? Tony also learned some valuable life lessons on this bear hunting trip, and we both have exceptional memories that will be life lasting.

For an autographed copy of Dick's groundbreaking book Radical Bear Hunter go to www.radicalbowhunter.com or visit you local bookstore.