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I've been here before - more times than I care to think about (late hunt pressure). So it's no surprise that all of us in camp got up extra early and were ready to hunt hard - very hard - all day. Bill and I were dropped off first at the end of the lake. But there was a problem. It was hot, very hot - even before sunrise it was probably in the mid-fifties. It was also foggy. These were not ideal conditions for caribou.

The morning droned on without so much as a cow sighting. As soon as the fog lifted Bill and I heard a series of splashes coming from the far side of the lake. We ran down to our blind and glassed a herd of cows and bulls swimming across the lake. I immediately identified two of them as shooters and got situated as they swam toward our trail.

They were now within a few yards of the brushy bank. So close that I could no longer see them. But I could clearly hear the grunts, clicking hooves and the sound of caribou shaking water off their hides. I was on the video camera and bill was tucked inside his blind - arrow ready.

The cows came out first - only five yards from Bill. But then I saw a bull 35 yards beyond them - then the second - and the third. Damn! The bulls took the far trail rather than the main crossing. There was nothing we could do but watch them meander off up into the hills behind us. Moving on a caribou from behind is pointless, so stalking them was not an option. A better option was to wait for the next group to show up - and they did 20 minutes later -but with no bulls in the bunch.

Video of this scene (5mb)

The day progressed as we watched more and more caribou swim the lake. Some of them used our trail, some didn't, but all were within a 40 yard area on either side of us. The good news was that by mid-day we probably saw 50 caribou cross near us. The bad news was they were all dinks - mostly cows and calves and the occasional immature bull. Certainly not what we were looking for.

I had to make a decision. We only had a day and a half to go and I had not even picked up my bow. So I opted to leave Bill with the video camera and head for the end of the lake. Video was important to us but at this stage the hunting was just too difficult for videoing. Besides, I was itching to hunt.

I took a day pack with some food, GPS, and survival gear and headed toward the end of the lake and up into the mountains. I never walked on the main caribou trails but opted to stay just off to the side. This proved to be a good move. An hour into my walk I heard the unmistakable sound of "clicking." Caribou were approaching from a thick stand of spruce upwind from me. I crouched down behind a bush as a few caribou emerged. I could not see any bulls so I simply moved in plain site of the caribou in front of me to reposition myself closer. The ones in view stopped, then ran off but the others were still coming. The remaining animals came out from the trees and were walking on both sides of me - some as close as 10 feet! But there were no bulls in this group. When the last cow trotted by I continued on toward the end of the lake. Once there I found where 5 crossings converged to one incredibly torn up trail. I found the perfect spot for my blind - just 10 yards downwind of that main trail - and made myself comfortable for a long wait.

It was quite warm by now - well into the 60's and the black flies were out in force. For some hunters, the flies would have been unbearable. But I opted to skip the bug spray and head net. Good news for the flies - bad news for my italian complexion.

For 5 hours I sat at that trail. I saw 2 cows during that entire time. At dark I could hear the boat coming to get me so I gathered up my gear and met Jimmy at the shore. Bill had not been picked up yet - I really hoped that he had better luck than me.

As we motored up to the blind Bill was not there. This was a good sign. After a few minutes he showed up tired and sweaty. Right at dusk 5 caribou bulls swam the lake including one real big bull. They did not cross at Bill's blind so he tried to intercept them before they crossed another section of lake behind us. He knew it was a long shot but he gave it his best anyway. They were the only shooter bulls seen since those two - first thing in the morning.

It was major crunch time now.

The other hunters in camp had a better day. James Fettig shot two bulls with his rifle, Hank shot one, and Doug filled his second tag. That left Chris (who was also archery hunting), Hank, Bill and myself.