Since people are getting cabin fever it's time to roll out some hunt reports from 2019.
We rolled into the potato field early Saturday morning, checking in with our pilot, we talked over which strip we’d be flying into. The area I had wanted to fly into was hammered by August rains and the strip was washed out. With that stroke of bad luck, everyone who drew the late season tag would likely be hunting in the exact same area we were forced to go. It was agreed that I’d fly in first and my father in law (Lee) would fly in behind me so I handed my pack to the pilot and climbed into the back of his Cub. We taxied out of his hangar and across his field where the short strip was. A few seconds later we were in the perfect bluebird air and headed into the Chugach for sheep.
We landed near the head of a drainage on a short strip. Kicking my gear and I out of the plane, the pilot was back in the air to pick up Lee. Knowing the effort to come, I found a grassy patch and laid down for a nap while I waited. What seemed like a matter of seconds later I heard the airplane buzzing back up the valley with Lee in it. Just as quickly as the first trip, the Cub was back in the air. We were standing off the end of the runway stowing gear and getting ready for the hike when two Cubs came down the valley in tandem. Great just as I thought, this is going to be a crowded hunt. Now I know backcountry public runway etiquette very well and what happened next thoroughly pissed me off. The first Cub dropped low and buzzed us VERY close in the process.
RANT WARNING: I later learned the pilot of the first plane told his passenger that he didn’t see us and was coming in to land which is why he had been so close. First off, I don’t know a single pilot that lands before checking the strip. Second, if you can’t see two guys standing on the edge of a river bank in plain view, you shouldn’t be flying. Third, we were well beyond the turnaround point for the strip. All the planes land heading east coming up the valley (uphill for a short landing) and they take off down the valley heading west (downhill for a quick takeoff). We were standing well beyond the turnaround clearing on the EAST end of the strip. What really smoked me is that I know both of the pilots, our families have known each other for decades. They’re exceptional pilots with tremendous experience and I wouldn’t hesitate to fly with them.
There’s no point in blowing up on a hunt. Also if it genuinely was an accident, I would have regretted grenading. I’m not in the hills to get in confrontations, I’m in the hills because that’s my happy place and I get tired of dealing with confrontations at my day job. Fuming, I grabbed my pack and hiked until I wasn’t pissed off anymore.
Lee was probably less impressed with my pace than he was with the pilot buzzing us so I backed off the throttle. The hunt was back on track shortly. As we walked along the valley floor, ewes and lambs fed above us on both sides. A short while later, we bumped a good sized bull moose down in the alders. Hiking until midday, we stopped for lunch and talked over the route to get into Lee’s hunt area.
Lee is approaching his mid 60’s and had recently had surgery so we took our sweet time gaining the elevation. By early evening we were nearing a bowl at the head of a drainage and the Chugach did what it’s famous for. The weather went from complete blue bird to rain/hail mix in less than fifteen minutes. Seeing the storm blowing in I dropped my pack, yanked out my tarp and setup the tent. Just as I got the rain fly on, the weather hit. Lee wasn’t quite as lucky and made his way up to the tent looking like a half frozen, drowned rat by the time he got there. The storm didn’t last too long so I crawled out of the tent and boiled water for dinner. Lee had gotten very chilled so he stayed in the tent while I scouted routes for the following day.
We rolled into the potato field early Saturday morning, checking in with our pilot, we talked over which strip we’d be flying into. The area I had wanted to fly into was hammered by August rains and the strip was washed out. With that stroke of bad luck, everyone who drew the late season tag would likely be hunting in the exact same area we were forced to go. It was agreed that I’d fly in first and my father in law (Lee) would fly in behind me so I handed my pack to the pilot and climbed into the back of his Cub. We taxied out of his hangar and across his field where the short strip was. A few seconds later we were in the perfect bluebird air and headed into the Chugach for sheep.
We landed near the head of a drainage on a short strip. Kicking my gear and I out of the plane, the pilot was back in the air to pick up Lee. Knowing the effort to come, I found a grassy patch and laid down for a nap while I waited. What seemed like a matter of seconds later I heard the airplane buzzing back up the valley with Lee in it. Just as quickly as the first trip, the Cub was back in the air. We were standing off the end of the runway stowing gear and getting ready for the hike when two Cubs came down the valley in tandem. Great just as I thought, this is going to be a crowded hunt. Now I know backcountry public runway etiquette very well and what happened next thoroughly pissed me off. The first Cub dropped low and buzzed us VERY close in the process.
RANT WARNING: I later learned the pilot of the first plane told his passenger that he didn’t see us and was coming in to land which is why he had been so close. First off, I don’t know a single pilot that lands before checking the strip. Second, if you can’t see two guys standing on the edge of a river bank in plain view, you shouldn’t be flying. Third, we were well beyond the turnaround point for the strip. All the planes land heading east coming up the valley (uphill for a short landing) and they take off down the valley heading west (downhill for a quick takeoff). We were standing well beyond the turnaround clearing on the EAST end of the strip. What really smoked me is that I know both of the pilots, our families have known each other for decades. They’re exceptional pilots with tremendous experience and I wouldn’t hesitate to fly with them.
There’s no point in blowing up on a hunt. Also if it genuinely was an accident, I would have regretted grenading. I’m not in the hills to get in confrontations, I’m in the hills because that’s my happy place and I get tired of dealing with confrontations at my day job. Fuming, I grabbed my pack and hiked until I wasn’t pissed off anymore.
Lee was probably less impressed with my pace than he was with the pilot buzzing us so I backed off the throttle. The hunt was back on track shortly. As we walked along the valley floor, ewes and lambs fed above us on both sides. A short while later, we bumped a good sized bull moose down in the alders. Hiking until midday, we stopped for lunch and talked over the route to get into Lee’s hunt area.
Lee is approaching his mid 60’s and had recently had surgery so we took our sweet time gaining the elevation. By early evening we were nearing a bowl at the head of a drainage and the Chugach did what it’s famous for. The weather went from complete blue bird to rain/hail mix in less than fifteen minutes. Seeing the storm blowing in I dropped my pack, yanked out my tarp and setup the tent. Just as I got the rain fly on, the weather hit. Lee wasn’t quite as lucky and made his way up to the tent looking like a half frozen, drowned rat by the time he got there. The storm didn’t last too long so I crawled out of the tent and boiled water for dinner. Lee had gotten very chilled so he stayed in the tent while I scouted routes for the following day.
this thread is now haunting Adam.
