The Outdoor Tripp Alaskan Adventure
	Not long ago I decided to give The Outdoor Tripp staff a break and took them black bear hunting in Alaska. Sit back and enjoy our tale of adventure.

Up, to Alaska...
	Boarding the Alaska Airlines 737 in Ketchikan for our final leg to Petersburg. After a day getting supplied in Petersburg, we boarded my brother's brother-in-law, Bob's fishing boat for the 4-hour trip to our hunting site on Kupreanof Island.

Loading the Whisper

We used the harbor crane to lower gear and supplies down to the Whisper. We're embarrassed to admit how much needed to be loaded. Everything we needed was taken aboard, including food, fresh water, fuel oil and gasoline for the skiffs. Once the gear was on deck, Bob had the back-breaking job of stowing everything in the hold. Here you see Bill, my bother's father-in-law, checking on things. Operating the crane was tricky as we knocked two cleats off the Whisper's port side and crushed the new barbeque pit Bob's wife had given him for their anniversary.

Leaving Petersburg Harbor After loading for the week's hunt, we got underway on the "Whisper," Bob's commercial fishing boat. Bob had originally planned to spend the week with his wife on their belated honeymoon, making up for the one they missed the last time we borrowed Bob and his boat. Here we are pulling away from Petersburg Harbor's gas dock. Bob took care of the fuel bill as we were pretty strapped buying plane tickets and out-of-state hunting licenses. It's mind-boggling what it costs to fill up one of these boats.

Skiffs in tow...
	We pulled three skiffs behind the "Whisper' on our journey. Two were for hunting and the third was the required escape craft required of all commercial fishing boats in Alaska. Bob did all the work aligning and securing the skiffs. They did just fine.

Under way
	Gerald and Randy talk with Bob regarding lunch possibilities on the Whisper as she plies the sea beneath a sunny Southeast Alaskan sky.

Bob cooks a traditional Alaskan lunch.
	We had Bob check his crab traps on our way out of Petersburg Harbor. He found some nice Doengeness crabs inside. The "Whisper" has a small oven in the cabin. In an hour Bob had prepared us a delicious lunch of Doengeness crab on the half-shell. Thanks Bob.

Bob enjoys beans for lunch.

Keeping high and dry
	Bob helped each of us to shore, keeping us out of the frigid water. We had just oiled our boots, wanting to keep them nice for hunting and photos. Saltwater can sure be tough on leather. Lucky Bob had boots made of canvass.

First night campfire
	Here's Bob busting his hump again. Have to admit he builds a mean fire. Our first night in camp we asked Bob to build a roaring fire. It's takes a lot of walking to find enough dry wood for a nice fire in rainy Southeast Alaska. Turns out we were all too tired to sing Kum-bay-ya in its warmth, sit around its glowing coals, or even go outside to enjoy the thing.

Mr. Coffee gets down to business.

The hilarious Mitch Rolphs getting the coffee going as we let Bob, who had complained of fever and chills, sleep an extra twenty minutes. Notice strong daylight at 6:00 am. Sun-up comes early -- 4:00 am. Mitch owns Expeditions Unlimited, is a top-notch outfitter, and inventor of the soon-to-be-famous Trippy-Mitchy burger. Learn more about Mitch and Expeditions Unlimited at www.mitcheu.tripod.com. Tell him Tripp sent ya!

Now to find a bear...

Scouting for bear. Spring bear hunting in Southeast Alaska involves hours of low-speed cruising coves and shoreline. Once a bear is spotted, you swing wide and approach slowly from downwind, exit the boat QUIETLY and begin your stalk. Spring bears are usually preoccupied with sleeping or eating sedgegrass and are easy to approach if you keep downwind and quiet. Black bears have poor eyesight -- it's easy to stalk within 50-75 yards for a clean shot. When Bob handled his share of the work in camp, it made time for us to spend most of the day glassing for bear.

Where's Little Red Riding Hood?

Not two minutes into the first day's hunt, Gerald and I spotted a pure blond wolf crossing a mud flat 150 yards distant. Wolves, which are plentiful in Alaska, had gone out of season two days earlier -- just our luck! Called with mouth-blown distress cries but could only get wolf to stop and look in our direction. We took photos of it's tracks minutes later -- almost as large as the call. This experience alone was worth the entire trip. We went on to see another blond wolf two days later as it walked the shoreline within 15 yards of us.

Preparin' to chow down...Alaska style.
	My brother, The Outdoor Randy, getting ready to toss a monstrous King Salmon filet on Bob's grill. Bob was able to pound the grill back into shape with one of the skiff anchors. We lined the bottom with Bob's boat tools to keep coals from falling through. No one in Alaska ate better than we did this week.

Home Cookin'
	Gerald fuels up for the afternoon hunt. Unfortunately this was the last of the peanut butter, a hunting camp staple. Each night, large fishing boats would take safe moorage in our bay for protection from changing weather. Two nights, we had Bob take a skiff and visit the boats to inquire about borrowing additional peanut butter.

There's no place like home... The result of five hunters in one cabin for a week. Bob was normally in charge of the cabin, but spent most of this particular day trying to reattatch the cleats to his boat. This photo features our newly remodeled kitchen. Appliances by Coleman.

Bill, beans and Tabasco.
	My brother's father-in-law, Bill. This night we had to settle for beans as Bob had spent a second day fiddling with the boat cleats.

Motel 6 & 1/2 This is one incredible cabin. We rented this baby from the U.S. Forest Service for $35 a night. Spread across five people, it was downright affordable. Trust me, it was about the only thing affordable in Alaska (welcome to the land of seven-dollar a box Cheerios). Kitchen area, dining table and two bunks downstairs, with ladder to a loft that sleeps six more. Fantastic views and front porch. No electricity or running water, and we didn't need either. A fuel-oil stove flawlessly heated the joint, and a crystal clear stream ran just over a mile away. We had Bob make the trip several times daily.

Heaven on Earth Beautiful view from the cabin porch. Can you imagine waking up to this each morning? Southeast Alaska is very rainy. However, our hunt fell in the middle of a thirteen day rainless stretch. First time this had occurred in almost twenty years. We had prepared for rain none-the-less. Bob had spent a week prior to our arrival repairing old rain-gear he'd borrowed for the lot of us. The early May days were also unseasonably sunny and warm, reaching the low sixties each day.

Sleeping on the job
	Hunting in the Alaskan wilderness wears you out. See for yourself.

Spring Black Bear
	Black bear taken with .388 Win Mag Remington 700 topped with Nikon Monarch UCC glass and Leupold mounts. Federal 225 grain. Neck shot, 95 yards. Bob was a lifesaver lugging the bear back to the cabin and keeping knives sharpened and drinks full as we cared for the trophy.

Think this bear was big?
	Spotted what looked to be a big blackie eating sedgegrass at the forest's edge. Lined up for a shot, but he strolled into the trees. Found his calling card, still steaming, moments later. Note the .388 Win Mag shell for scale, lower left. Tweren't no big bear, t'was a huge bear!

Glassing from the Whisper Second to last day of the hunt, we decide to board the Whisper and cover some serious territory. Here you see Mitch and Bill glassing the shoreline for bear while Bob drives, cooks, and keeps everything ship-shape. We crossed the shipping lanes and headed over to the mainland for a change of scenery. As the week was unseasonably warm, mid-day we broke out the poles and did some halibut fishing. Got a couple of bites, but nothing reeled in. Not long after this picture was taken, a monstrous grey whale and calf broke surface not fifty yards distant as they made their way north towards Juneau. Notice cleats still missing from side of boat.

Gumby by any other name...
	A bit ancy as to our safety atop 1,000-foot deep icy death-water, we insisted Bob test the survival gear for our reassurance. Here, Bob demonstrates the use of an artic survival suit. It took us a while to pull him out. Water temperature: 34 degrees.

Trap coming up
	Up comes a baited crab trap holding three po-boy sized halibut. Bob did an exemplary job working the traps.

Can you say halibut sandwich?
	Bob and Mitch proudly display three halibut rescued from the 1,000-foot deep icy death-water below. Bob, whose fever just broken that morning, quickly cleaned the catch, and prepared them as an afternoon snack.

Mitch cooks fish
	Mitch pan fries the halibut we snatched from Mother Sea just moments earlier. They were actually quite tasty. Normally we would have had Bob do this sort of work, but he was still busy handling scrubbing halibut guts from the deck. We devoured the tasty halibut in seconds. It took Bob some fifteen minutes to clean the deck.

Tripp drives the boat Against our better judgement, Bob took a nap while complaining of returning fever and stomach pains. Following brief instruction, Bob gave Tripp the helm and went below. Needless to say we went drinkless and had to untangle our own lines while Bob slept. Driving the Whisper was a bit trickier than your average bass boat. Tripp caught on pretty quickly, and knowing 1,000 feet of icy death-water lie beneath the hull and submerged ice bergs lurked about, he only took minimal breaks to read and snack.

Camp Headquarters
	There's only one thing more wonderful than a wilderness hunt...the wilderness throne. The Forst Service latrines were quite nice, and it's a good thing too -- after getting feverish, Bob wasn't able to keep much food down, and vistited frequently.

Wilderness version of the Domino's man.

Here Bob begins loading for the journey home, allowing us a few last hours to hunt. Having him around sure came in handy as the rest of us were able to concentrate on why we were there in the first place. After all his work I don't think we tipped Bob at all. Come to think of it, I don't think we payed him either. If he;d have been smart and taken care of that fever he might have gotten to hunt a little. Well, there's always next year.

Hope that plane's tied down! The motley crew (from left to right): Bill(Randy's father-in-law), Randy (my brother), Tripp, Gerald, and Mitch. Q: How can we be so close after a week without running water? A: Pre-moistened towelettes. Nice picture Bob.

Note: No actual Bobs were harmed during the taking of these photos.