The aboriginal First Nations\u00a0People named the city for rapids resembling the mane of a white horse.\u00a0It\u2019s the capital city and has half\u00a0the territory\u2019s population.<\/p>\n
The Guinness Book of World records lists it as the city with the cleanest air\u00a0on earth.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
We left by float plane as no roads exist where we\u2019re going. For 2 hours we passed over rugged<\/p>\n mountains blanketed in boreal forest. The two-hour flight revealed the majesty and vastness of the<\/p>\n Canadian Rockies, devoid of human presence.<\/p>\n We switched to a smaller float plane for a river landing at base camp. The accommodations\u00a0were barebones, but the view from atop the river bluff was magnificent, especially when illuminated by\u00a0the Northern Lights. The head guide was always the last one in the tent at night.<\/p>\n He would zip the tent\u00a0flaps closed then load his rifle, lay it beside his sleeping bag pointed towards the tent opening. I knew\u00a0we weren\u2019t in Kansas anymore.<\/p>\n As we dozed off to the primal howling of nearby wolves the first night at camp, we dreamt of giant moose.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n On day one, Beaver and Mason remained at basecamp, while my guide Dennis and I relocated to a spike camp 50 miles upriver.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The boat ride took four hours. Within the first few miles of base camp, we spotted several moose on the riverbank, and the sandy beaches were covered in spoor.\u00a0 <\/span>Clearly, the moose were plentiful. We also saw a grizzly bear run across the river in front of us. Seemingly, our hunt would be easy.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The giant Yukon bull moose stands seven feet tall and weighs 1,800 pounds.\u00a0 <\/span>It has the largest antlers of any animal on the planet. Although the first few moose we saw were young, I was astonished by their massiveness. They\u2019re like a Clydesdale mixed with a thoroughbred racehorse, with a tree of antlers growing out the top of its head. Even though these animals have rarely if ever encountered humans, most seem a little skittish. They\u2019re equipped with extraordinary hearing and sense of smell. They run fast and conceal themselves in thick forest quickly. They\u2019re also the most powerful and ferocious animal around. Even the grizzly bears fear the mature bulls.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Fortunately, the rut begins the first week of September and runs through the first week of October, putting our hunt during the peak of the rut. The rut makes some bulls aggressive, much less wary, and responsive to calling. For thousands of years, they\u2019ve dominated all other animals. Curiously, they\u2019re sometimes not even afraid of humans.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The boat ride was cold and rainy. The moose we spotted were feeding on chest-high poplars and willows bordering gently sloping beaches. The short trees transitioned into thick spruce forests.\u00a0 <\/span>As we ascended the river, the river narrowed and was full of rapids. The gentle beaches gave way to steeper rocky banks and the beaches became less abundant and smaller. The depth of the river was skinny. Our ride was rough with submerged boulders, sandbars, and spruce logs lurking below the surface.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Our moose sightings dwindled as we traveled farther upstream. We were strictly prohibited from hunting one side of the river in my area as it\u2019s on the property of First Nations of Na-Cho Ny\u00e4k Dun. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A lone grey wolf stared at us from the bank, seemingly guarding the land.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Our spike tent was crude, and our provisions were meager for 8 days in the wilderness.\u00a0 <\/span>Mason later confessed that he and Beaver enjoyed half my camp\u2019s provisions which we inadvertently left at base camp.\u00a0 <\/span>A sawed-off shotgun literally loaded for bears was strongly recommended for a nighttime visit to the outhouse.\u00a0 <\/span>A pine marten ransacked our tent and stole our last snacks, two packs of Twizzlers.\u00a0 <\/span>His muddy footprints suggested he may have also drank from my coffee cup. He reappeared an hour later running around the tent like he\u2019d smoked crack cocaine. <\/p>\n As the marten ran below my\u00a0guide\u2019s cot, he screamed like a little girl.<\/p>\n My guide, Dennis, is pleasant, friendly, and works hard. He\u2019s an expert camper. His main job is\u00a0security at an LNG plant in British Columbia. He\u2019s missing his 30th wedding anniversary for this hunt.<\/p>\n Dedication, or a lack thereof? His attitude is superb, and he hunts hard! His hearing is exceptional. I\u00a0nicknamed him Radar O\u2019Reilly.<\/p>\n We hunted at least 12 hours a day for the next few days and didn\u2019t see many bulls. In fact, we\u00a0saw hardly any. Hoping to lure in rutting bulls, Dennis called frequently, but with few responses.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Within days, our prospects for success seemed dubious.<\/p>\n After covering over 200 miles of river in\u00a0the first 4 days and employing every hunting tactic imaginable, my doubts turned into frustration,\u00a0tedium, and disappointment. The freezing rain was incessant.<\/p>\n Like an ice bath 5 times daily, the weather\u00a0tested my resolve. We sped up and down the river, drifted quietly for hours, still-hunted for countless\u00a0hours, and walked and called; all to no avail. We saw very few animals, and none which nearly met the\u00a0criteria for harvest. We listened intently to crickets.<\/p>\n A hunter\u2019s mood, enthusiasm and attitude typically wax and wanes over the course of a long\u00a0hunt. Moose hunting in these conditions challenges one\u2019s spirit like no hunting I\u2019ve ever experienced. In\u00a0the face of harsh conditions, I was struggling to stay positive.<\/p>\n Fortunately, we heard by satellite phone that Beaver and Mason were experiencing much better\u00a0hunting at the honey hole downriver. Their guide reported they were seeing big moose.<\/p>\n Beaver and Mason later recounted the highlight of their hunt in vivid detail. Drifting along the\u00a0river they heard two mad bulls on opposite sides of the river grunting loudly at each other as a battle\u00a0challenge. They stealthily concealed themselves between the bulls on a river bluff. The wind picked up,\u00a0and the bulls went silent for 2 hours. The hunters waited patiently.<\/p>\n Mason spotted a grizzly bear that\u00a0had crept along the beach 40 feet below them. As Beaver quickly repositioned for a shot at the bear,\u00a0one of the bull moose suddenly revealed himself 330 yards away on the opposite bank, presenting\u00a0Beaver with a dilemma. Obsessed with the prospect of a bull moose for the last 20 years, Beaver opted\u00a0to take the moose.<\/p>\n It\u2019s a giant! They celebrated by drinking our entire supply of liquor that night by the\u00a0fire, bewildered and entertained by a brilliant display of the Northern Lights (in our defense we did not<\/p>\n have proof of life from Mike in over two days). Beaver and Mason hunted the moose gut pile for two\u00a0days in an attempt to harvest either a grizzle or a wolf, but none appeared.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/bestofswla.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/11\/IMG-1089.jpg\")
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