he rush of the nearby river provided the background music for the solitude of a wilderness completely untamed. From the moment the tires of the Super Cub thumped down on the creek gravel bar that the pilot called a landing strip, we were in the high and lonesome. Under a crisp September sun, the black peaks of the Brooks Mountain Range in the Arctic Circle of Alaska held thin layers of residual snow. In the distance small birds sing their evening song. Just my guide, Leo Boreis, and myself in a magnitude of wildness that I had only dreamed about, I went to Alaska as much for the emptiness of the land as for its fullness, to find some refuge or release for that part of my heart that needs to remain empty. I went to a "wild" country, one that is uncivilized, ungovernable, beyond control to reconnect with the roots of my ancestors.

The last 48 hours seemed a blur of activity. The drive to St. Louis, 12 hours of air flight, re-setting our watches three hours back and our internal clocks rebelling. The two hour flight from Fairbanks to the Brooks Range was beautiful and awesome. Mile after mile we flew over no man or civilization.

And now the enormous solitude engulfed me. Alaska is a place that strips away life's clutter and leaves you to confront the wild. You feel the power of what happens to you here, but you can't explain it, you just go through it. You take a close look at courage and cowardice. If you are lucky, you'll retrieve a disappearing spirit. If you're very lucky, it will be your own.

Sleep came slowly that evening, due to the anticipation of the hunt, the exploration, and the challenge that would begin in the morning. Camping in a 8 x 8 foot tent with temperatures ranging in the evenings from the teens to thirties meant preparation was essential and I was certainly glad to have a warm sleeping bag.

After enjoying a huge breakfast of eggs and bacon the next morning we started out, first hunting for Yukon moose. Moose like boggy areas. A bog is a swamp with small bushes scattered throughout. If you try to walk on top of the bushes and the heap of ground around then you invariably will slide off and fall. This leaves your only choice being to slush through the muck. Because of bogs one piece of required equipment is a set of ankle fit hip boots. These insidious boots are next to impossible to get on since they are so tight around your ankles. After walking all day the moisture inside your boots creates a suction that makes them impossible to get off. But when you begin to cross the bogs or to ford a river they become invaluable. Crossing a bog becomes a test of endurance and will power. You must lift your foot high and hopefully not step in a water hole. Water holes can be anywhere from one to three foot deep and there is no good way to anticipate where they are until you fall in one. If you are lucky you only have to trudge through the boggy mud. It closes around your feet making it extremely difficult to lift your foot.

Our first day out was spent walking through 4 or 5 bogs to get to high ridges of the mountains and glassing for Moose through our binoculars. We covered about 15 miles returning to camp about 5:00 PM to grab a bite to eat and rest. About 7:00 PM we decided that the best area we had seen was one nearby and we hiked to that ridge to glass. At 8:00 PM we saw several Moose about 600 yards away. At that distance one bull looked like it might have the potential of the trophy I was seeking. Rather than try and move to them, Leo, my guide, began to bang and rub two small trees with a log that was laying nearby and occasionally making a deep glutteral snort imitating a bull moose. Immediately one of the cows answered which caused the bull we were watching to answer and begin thrashing his antlers into nearby trees. This was the very beginning of their rut.

Over the next hour and half the bull and one cow slowly moved toward us. Finally, the bull moved within 175 yards, stopped and looked directly at us, seeking his competition and a fight. The guide had a perfect view, but I was blocked by a small spruce tree approximately 20 yards away. When the bull lowered his head for a second and swung his antlers I moved over to get a clear shot. Quickly placing the crosshairs on his front shoulder, I shot. The big bull stumbled forward, and turned to walk away from us so I fired one more shot and it finally put him down. We quickly crossed the bog and were both relieved to see that he had fallen on firm ground and the edge of the bog. He was enormous. He weighted approximately 1,500 pounds and had a 64 1/2 inch antler spread. It was now 9:45 PM and within 15 to 30 minutes it would be dark, so we decided to return to camp and come back in the morning.

Everybody likes to dream of the big hunt, but there is always the next day. The next morning we started out bright and early and begin to cape, skin. quarter and gut the moose. It took us both working hard nearly eight hours to accomplish all this and to pack out the meat and antlers to the gravel bar landing strip. After returning to camp that evening we hurriedly ate and struck out to look for bear. Nothing was moving but it was a beautiful evening. The stars punched the darkness with radiance. It was calm and beautiful.

he grizzly bear is awesome in its power and speed. It sits at the top of the food chain with no enemies save for man, nature, and other grizzlies. A mature mountain grizzly may weigh 850 pounds, though most are smaller and a very few are larger, depending on where they live and what they eat.

The grizzly gets its name from the whitish tips of its body hair, which give it a frosted or "grizzled" look. This remarkable coat can range from blonde to chocolate brown to nearly black, is coarse and long and sheds water well, protecting the animal from cold and wind. A thick layer of fat further insulates the bear from North Country cold.

Grizzlies are omnivores, eating anything and everything from roots, grasses, berries, and woody browse to carrion, fish, and fresh meat--whatever can be readily found or caught. Grizzlies prey heavily on gangly-legged moose and caribou calves during the spring, and on weak, sick, and careless adults at any time. Boars will kill and eat all the cubs they can catch. A boar may fight to the death with a sow protecting her brood. If he wins, he'll eat the cubs and the vanquished mother. A boar grizzly is not an animal which to trifle.

Like all bears, grizzlies have poor eyesight, though they can detect outlines and motion quite well. Grizzlies have good hearing, but it is their nose they trust implicitly. Leo was almost paranoid about never hunting without the wind in our favor. You might trick a grizzly's eyes and you may confuse its ears, but you'll never fool that remarkable nose.

Rarely do interior grizzly hunters get into trouble. accompanied by an armed guide the hunter usually sees the bear at a distance and stalks in for a controlled shot at 150 to 250 yards.

The third day of the hunt we awakened to a light snow. We quickly ate breakfast and hiked the long way around to a ridge about 800 yards from the skeletal remains of the moose, From this distance we could glass the area to see if a bear had moved in on the moose. Leo mentioned that we would know if a bear had been there, because bears always cover the remains they find with dirt and tundra. We walked up and around the ridge to a point that we could glass the area and so far no bear appeared to have moved in. We watched until late morning and returned to camp for lunch and a nap.

Waiting until late evening we again returned to the ridge for a long distance view of the area hoping that a bear had moved in. Finding a good opening on the ridge about 800 yards away we begin glassing. Leo whispered, "Bear". It was a large chocolate grizzly. He was on the carcass, but soon left to return to the section of woods immediately behind. Testing the wind and weighing our options we decided to drop down the other side of the ridge and stalk up to the area and try and spot him.

Stalking is a slow, tedious task. You watch every step, avoiding all sticks and noise, walking around bushes and constantly testing the wind. After about 45 to 60 minutes we came back up to the top of the ridge and glassed hard the entire area, moving occasionally to get a different view. The pungent smell of the tundra and spruce trees added flavor to the excitement of the moment. Yet he was not to be. After several hours we decided to head back to camp. Strange how the walk back to camp is always longer.

Day 4 was greeted by another snow, now heavier and with fog. Not ideal conditions, but still we had hunting to do, We ventured forth with new enthusiasm and hope. This time we headed away from the moose remains, cutting back across a willow grove with its deep moss. We went up the ridge even further back and moved slowly looking for openings to view the area. Again we spied the bear and began our stalk, dropping to the other side of the ridge and coming up to glass and check our bearing. Again the bear eluded us, leaving us to return to camp empty handed. Later about 5:00 PM we left camp and made even a wider circle. This time the wind was definitely not in our favor. We were forced to follow the back side of the ridge until we were way past the area where the moose lay. We spent the next four hours watching, glassing and hoping. The wind began to really howl and it became bitter cold. About 9:45 PM we gave it up and made the long trudge back around to base.

By the next morning the weather had changed again and the snow of the previous morning had melted and it was warmer. It was now the 5th day of my seven day hunt. We had decided to slowly work our way within 200 yards of the moose remains and just sit, watch and wait. We finally got into position and began our vigil. I had positioned myself about 3 yards in front of Leo and 3 yards to his left. I had a bush in front of me and a tree behind. Leo had a bush in front of him, but nothing behind him. For two hours I kept a steady watch on the moose and area. What makes grizzly hunting so special is the magical way in which such a large animal can appear out of nowhere. I read that grizzly hunting is 95 percent boredom and 5 percent pure terror. Little would I know how true that could be.

Suddenly, I heard a large stick snap and turned wondering what Leo was doing. Why had he gotten up and moved around? What I saw was Leo still sitting in the same spot but behind him, about 70 -- 80 yards away, was a huge grizzly bear coming at full speed. It's amazing the snapshots your mind takes in a span of 4 -- 6 seconds at a time like this. I could see the vapor shooting out of his nostrils 12 to 18 inches. His teeth were partially showing and he was making a strange growling, woofing sound with each step, I didn't realize until this moment that a grizzly bear gallops like a horse. He had a full head of steam and was coming directly at us, At this point Leo was wondering what in the world I was doing! Grabbing my rifle, it appeared I was pointing it right at Leo. At that moment he heard the bear and his face told it all. I was on one knee but couldn't shoot because Leo was in my line of sight, so I stood and moved quickly over one step. At this point the bear stopped for a brief moment. We figured later that he had only seen Leo since I had a tree to my back and was temporarily startled when I stood up. It didn't take him long to evaluate the situation and it didn't seem to matter that there were two of us, as he immediately began his charge again. Fortunately, this gave me enough time to get the cross-hairs of my scope on him and fire. Immediately after I fired, Leo fired. I guess he had seen enough and wanted to take no chances. The bear went immediately down in a heap, but in the time that he started his second charge and I fired he had covered another 8-10 yards. Both Leo and I stood there for several seconds with our guns on him waiting to see if he would get up. After determining he was dead, I stepped off the distance to the bear. He was 30 yards from Leo and 33 yards from my position. Too close. What makes grizzly bears so dangerous is not only their awesome power and speed and ferociousness but their intelligence. They have an amazing memory and will not make the same mistake twice. This bear had actually stalked up behind us, closing the distance slowly until he accidently stepped on a stick and then charged us. We obviously had the moose smell still on our clothes and were viewed as competitors for his food.

As we stood looking at the bear I realized that this wasn't the bear we had been stalking. This bear was what they called Toklat colored, which is blonde on top with dark colored legs and feet. Beautiful! He was a good bear but not as large as the one we had been watching. Leo said he would be about a 7 1/2 foot bear. His paws were nearly 7 inches wide. The light breeze caught the silver-tipped hairs on his back; they shimmered like a surrealistic halo. All the memories of the weary miles we had walked, of the nights camped on the tundra, of the cold and wet vanished. I was filled with that contradictory mixture of emotions of part elation, and part sadness; only hunters understand.

Again it began to lightly snow as we made our way back to camp for backpacks, knifes, and cameras, The next 4 hours we spent taking pictures, skinning, and thankfulness for an unseen stick.

This would not be the end of my adventure. The snow continued that afternoon and all through the evening. The next morning it was still snowing and foggy. So much so we knew that it would not be possible for the Super Cub to fly. For the next 5 days it continued snowing with little visibility. Being confined to an 8 X 8 foot tent and campsite for five days and nights with nothing more to hunt, or nothing to read is extremely boring and slightly unnerving. When the weather finally began to clear we had between 12 to 15 inches of snow and visibility was still limited. The pilot flew over us late that evening, but he was afraid to land because of the depth of the snow, even though we had scraped it off with our boots down to the gravel. We just had too short a gravel bar. He instructed us, via radio, to pack what we could and we would have to hike out up river to a longer gravel bar the next day. That night we ate the remaining of our food ... mashed potatoes.

Early the next morning we tore down camp and cached it under a big spruce. I took only my gun, camera and sleeping bag, leaving half of ay hunting equipment and my moose cape and bear cape to be picked up later. We hiked through molasses thick bogs and along treacherous river banks with huge sharp rocks, all covered with 12 to 15 inches of snow. We had to cross the river many many times. The river was so swift and cold that you could only move your foot inches at a time. At times it was so slick on bottom that it was all you could do to stand in the current much less make much progress. Several times the only place to ford was so deep that it came to the top of our hip boots. We realized that if we lost our footing with a pack and gun we would drown or we would probably freeze to death. We hiked 10 hours stopping every two hours for 5 to 10 minutes. The rocks covered with snow battered our feet to a soreness I have never known. Frequently we fell crossing the bogs by stepping in snow covered water holes. I honestly didn't know if we would make it. It felt good to finally get to the large gravel bar and an hour later to be picked up by the plane and flown back to base camp. There a warm shower and a hot plate of food awaited us. Fortunately the next day the weather lifted enough that I could fly back to Fairbanke and begin my journey home. My capes and antlers and equipment were to be shipped later.

If you would like information about hunting alaska you can call Tom Hillis, Registered Guide & Outfitter at 907-458- 6818. Just a word of warning. This is not a trip for those out of shape or weak of heart. But for the adventure of a lifetime, Alaska is the end of an America that once was, a place that can make you and shape you, where God has made a land beautiful.