Brothers avoid bears during hunting trip to Alaska

My brother Scott and I are back from our Kodiak Island adventure and we're happy to report no close encounters with the brown bears of Alaska. We were bowhunting Sitka blacktail deer, but any excursion to the Last Frontier involves big bruins it seems, and this was no exception.

Our bush pilot used a Super Cub to bring us and our gear in, one at a time, to a small, unnamed lake high in the alpine reaches of Kodiak Island. For the next several days we were on our own as we pursued the Sitka deer that inhabit both the lowland alders as well as the barren crags of nearby mountains.

We focused our efforts on the mountainous reaches since deer were easier to locate and because we wanted to see any bears long before we got to handshaking distance.

The first day I attempted a stalk on a trophy buck only to find myself entangled in an alder mess for about 90 minutes. After finally extracting myself from that thicket, and then seeing a large brown bear head right into the dense growth, I decided no deer was worth wading through that stuff and vowed to stay out of it.

Each day we'd scale our respective mountains (Scott went west and I went east), probably gaining 1500 feet in elevation, and stop every so often to glass the terrain for deer bedded in an approachable location. As it turned out, getting to within 50 yards of trophy animals didn't prove too difficult, but closing in for shots conducive to my longbow was an altogether different matter.

Midway through the third day, I was beginning to doubt I'd have any opportunities within 30 yards, but finally located a trio of deer bedded at the foot of a cliff-like knob. An hour later, I eased down the cliff, found an opening, and with a 25- to 30-yard shot, arrowed a fat buck that ran only 40 yards before dying. It literally was over in five seconds.

A couple hours later I was headed back to camp with over 70 pounds of boned-out meat and antlers and my equipment. The two-mile plus jaunt tested my resolve as well as my nerves (nothing like trolling for bear!), but back at the lake, a job completed buoyed my attitude.

Scott tagged mature bucks with his compound bow on the second and third days, and then on the fifth day we elected to try to tag team these elusive deer. Again, two miles from camp we finally found three deer bedded in a rock outcropping. I slipped around behind and downwind, making my best guess as to where they'd depart when Scott showed himself.

Our plan worked to perfection, and the deer eluded Scott only to cruise by at 15 yards from my hidden location. Another clean shot from my stickbow, and buck number two was taken. This time, we could distribute the load and the long hike back to camp was less fretful with two people (and thus two sidearms) available to deal with any bears.

As it turned out, I saw just two of Alaska's big bears, both at about 200 yards. I got excellent video of both, and quite frankly would've been disappointed had I not seen any. The .44 magnum on my hip represented the bare minimum advised by others but did provide peace of mind when advancing through shoulder-high vegetation with meat in your pack.

Or when hearing footsteps outside the tent at night. After a couple episodes of bailing out with arms drawn and ready, we chalked up the noises to other critters and began sleeping more soundly.

As Scott and I were enjoying a shore lunch following our caching of the venison on that fifth day, the breeze suddenly stopped and the lake's surface was smooth as glass. And that's when Scott's eyes got as big as saucers as he pointed to fresh bear tracks in the shallow water that clearly showed where it had walked between our sleeping and cooking tents. Maybe we weren't hearing things after all.