Great adventure so far Nog. Looking forward to reading more and seeing the videos. Jetboat has seen better days...LOL.....musta been quite an impact to split it open like that. Also agree with your observations on impacts from the Griz predation.
By now the moose was well aged. Our Partner who stayed behind had cooled it each evening on the meat poles, and dropped it into the oversized fish coffins any time the heat came up a little. To say it was superb would be an understatement!!
We rose early the day of breaking camp. The weather looked reasonably stable, and we began to sort out what gear went to each boat. Even though badly crippled, Green Death would have to shoulder the majority of the weight. The smaller rig had developed a bug after it's hit, and would no longer attain anything beyond 3,200 rpm. Just enough to get her up and scrambling, but not so if overloaded.
Here's a final shot of the two rigs just prior to getting loaded down for the extraction:
After sweeping the camp to ensure we left but bootprints and a few ashes behind, we set off. Green Death was immediately tested, and at 1,500 rpm, her massive engine shook so violently in it's cradle it appeared damn near ready to leave it's motor mounts. Damn. It is going to be a loooooooong haul. She obviously would not plane at that, so idling and drifting was the only way she was going anywhere. Fortunately Mike had designed her well, and even loaded she drew less than 8 inches of water at idle. Even so, there were to be many spots she rubbed the floor, and if it were not for her owner's incredible experience level, I am certain she would have done so a lot more.
Running light in the other rig, the Ladz had no problem getting her up on step:
They would pass us, run a bunch of miles downstream, and spend the wait checking out other mountains and exploring.
The scenery was just as beautiful on the way out as it was on the way in.
The only change was that a LOT of leaves had dropped, and those that remained were pretty much colored right up:
Our Camp Protector is a Pitt-Weiler, the fourth of his lineage to be owned by my Buddy.
This dog is absolutely fearless, has an excellent nose, and well understands the game retrieval exercise.
What he didn't understand so well is why we were moving along so damn slow.
Used to moving at least 30 miles an hour or more across the water, it was evident he was right bored with our progress:
Along the way that morning, we rounded a corner and discovered a massive old cow elk up one level from the river. She barely gave us a passing glance, but did study her backtrail quite intensely between bouts of feeding. Understanding what that might mean was instantaneous, and our powerful binocs literally raked the area below her constantly. There he is, and what a hell of a bull!!
And he was! I have hunted elk over much of North America, and it is something of a rarity (for me anyway) to encounter the serious crowning displayed my a mature Roosevelt Bull. This fellow had 9+ points a side, not the longest of main beams but as large as your thigh at the base, and crowning all over up top. An ancient scarred up Warrior, it was obvious he was more interested in the cow than us. Wish I had the camera ready, but will admit I was quite greedy sucking his vision through the binoc's and simply forgot... Excellent to see, and we wished him well in his efforts to pass that excellent genetics down the line!!
According to the GPS, we were traveling about 6 or 7 miles an hour when at idle, less so obviously if drifting. Mike's skill at the helm really showed as he navigated that sled through some bloody tight water over and over, missing the hits and correctly reading the flow every time. Even so, the miles drifted away too damn slow for all involved...
Years back, like 20 or so, we used to fly half our crew / gear in to save weight on the upstream runs. But, it has been damn near since then we've seen a plane actually land on the river. All the charter companies now refuse to do so, citing it is too dangerous to proceed with that any more.
So, imagine our surprise when a float plane circled us twice, dipped his wings, and set about touch down right below us!!
We both thought it was likely a CO dropping by to make sure we were on the up & up, and not in too serious of trouble drifting along like we were...
However it became readily apparent that he was picking up some guided hunters who, along with their gear, were being shuttled to the river for pick-up via quads and trailers. Both parties waved, and although we looked we saw no sign of horns, antlers nor meat. I did take a good note of the fellow's numbers, and will try to get ahold of him the next time we wander that way to see just what his prices are. Was another interesting development for us.
The Ladz had picked an established but empty camp to set up at for the night. By the time we got down to them, it was pretty much dark. They had the Teepee set up, and a good fire blazing for our arrival. The only thing we borrowed besides their fire pit was the grill they had conveniently left along side of that. The grilled moose backstrap tasted as wonderful as it had the first time!
A few calculations, and we recognized it would take at least another day and a half to get down to the landing.
Oh well, at least we're getting there...
Sleep came easy as the wolves once again serenaded the coming of the moonlight...
The next morning we were up and wandering right at first light again.
The wolves carried on that day well into daylight, had us wondering just what they were up to...
Something I forgot to mention when we were up on the hill. My two companions decided it probably wasn't going to rain, so they hoisted their rain gear high up into a tree. The one fellow's gear was like mine - workable, but not overly pricey. The other fellow is the complete opposite! Between the Kuiu drybag, pack cover and rain gear, it was worth close to $ 1,800.00 clams. Upon our descent, they were quite disturbed to discover a bear had found an eaten all of that stuff except one woolen cap. My HH gear stayed with me, and I was happy to be wearing it on the last leg out of the hills! Another OUCH for the one fellow for sure as he had yet to even wear the stuff...
What reminded me was a blackie we encountered as we idled down the river day 2. He wasn't overly large, but the Ladz certainly were trying to get me to shoot him. More out of revenge than anything else methinks, and I wasn't going to shoot just "any" bear this trip! In fact that tag has a date with a rather large bruin, perhaps it may even top last year's Monster, that is frequenting one of my local hunting areas right now...
The bear is in there:
Passing the confluence with the Turnagin meant we were actually making progress. Not enough that we wouldn't have to camp again that night, but certainly enough we would be off the river the next day...
Here's the mandatory shot of the big rock with the cross on it.
Never did find out who wandered on there, nor under what conditions.
But I always give a tip of my hat to another wanderer who apparently paid the ultimate price there.
HuntingBC Champ
Re: A Kechika River Adventure
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