At 7.45am. I'm woken by the engine's roar.
Greg has decided that we have to leave. The wind is strong, which, for once, pleases everyone.
The wind will be the key to our escape. We leave Long Bay and head for the western route.
The ice has cleared a lot since yesterday. As we approach the danger zone, Greg slows completely, almost to a standstill. With his binoculars glued to his eyes, he studies the movement of the ice. We start to weave our way between the ice-floes. On the bridge the crew lines up
Chapter VII.: Hard times in Alaska
Page 45
behind the wheel… there are loud knocks against the hull… in 15mins. we are through the first section of the ice. A brief respite: there is another stretch to come. A quick breakfast; because we are so close to Valdez, and the general commotion, it is just oatmeal.
The dark spots on the radar screen are getting nearer again. I go out on deck to get a better view, and can feel the cold breath of the ice. Once again we are surrounded by ice. We have almost stopped… but, even so, we can't avoid a smal col ision. Greg's face looks grave… very stealthily we creep onward… another 15mins. meandering around, and…
We've made it!
We are through. There is no ice ahead of us, the way is clear!
The captain opens up the throttle, and the intrepid Ruffunit ploughs through the waves!
Soon my goat hunt will be over. So far, this has been the hunt that I've enjoyed the most. After the difficult and punishing climb, I managed to bag my goat with a single, good shot. I was hunting with exceptionally capable people, who managed to embody all the positive traits required in Alaskan hunting guides: a sense of humor, expertise, physical prowess, and helpfulness. It's easier to battle mountains and the forces of nature when you're in a good mood, and able to have a laugh. I couldn't have done it without them. But - as Randy says - that's what they are there for.
When looking for the best hunters, you won't find them among paying clients.
I have the utmost respect for professional hunters. They are the ones who have always done their best to help me be successful, to get my trophies, and primarily to give me the experiences that I've been dreaming of. I've learnt a lot, an awful lot, from these professionals, both in America and Hungary.
And hunting from a boat has been so charming, just like something out of a novel; it was an adventure that was absolutely new to me. It is a fitting end to my Alaskan hunts, and I'm sad to be moving on. Because it is only my Alaskan hunt that is over.
The trip will continue.
Chapter VII.: Hard times in Alaska
Page 46
On Board the Ruffinit
Anchored in Valdez Harbor