Feast and Famine

A Brooks Range Caribou Hunt

By Jay Beyer

Flying over Alaska’s vast and imposing Brooks Range, I looked down at perhaps the most remote and undisturbed wilderness in North America. Home to Dall’s sheep, grizzly bears, gray wolves, moose, and black bears, the shadows of these mountains also hold an estimated 750,000 caribou that take part in the longest migration of any terrestrial mammal on earth. It was these caribou that had brought us to Alaska.

It was sunny and clear as we flew toward our hunting camp, and my companions Jon and Sara spotted several herds of caribou below. Still, we knew hunting would have to wait until tomorrow; in Alaska you aren’t allowed to fly and hunt on the same day. This gave us plenty of time to set up camp, make a game plan, and drink some whiskey while watching caribou in the distance. That night, the anticipation of the hunt had me checking my watch, eager for daylight.

We woke to a fresh blanket of snow and an overcast sky. Yesterday’s caribou were gone. Walking several miles from camp across the sodden tundra, we reached a high point that overlooked nearly the entire valley. Nothing. After a long and frigid day of glassing, we got back to camp to find fresh caribou tracks stamped in the snow around our tents. It seemed like they were taunting us.

Beaten down from the day before, we reassessed our situation over a cup of coffee the next morning. Midway through, Jon spotted a caribou in the distance, then another, and another until an entire herd was in view. We quickly got our gear together and headed in their direction, using a small rise in the landscape to shield our approach. As we peaked the hill, the ground in the distance appeared to be flowing: Over 2,000 caribou streamed across the land.

That’s when we noticed the river separating us from the herd.

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