At 7.00am I leave the first cabin on the right on the Ruffinit.
I look around the small space for the last time, already knowing that I will never forget it. The Ruffinit might not have a helipad, but it was better to get back to than any grand yacht. The evening chats, watching the movies, the smell of food cooking, the long journeys in the motorboats - after which I always returned half-frozen - the endless joking, and the hunt - not for goats, but for the last can of coke: we had to ransack the entire ship - all have left an indelible memory. It was perhaps in the tent with the Inuits where I last felt so good. That is the point of hunting, and why it is worth coming to Alaska. These were the days I was looking forward to, the experiences that turned out to be even better than I could have imagined. And, besides all of that, there, outside the bridge, lies my beautiful goat-horn trophy; it is the icing on the cake. In future I must only ever go hunting with people like this!
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We arrive at the little aiport so early that it has not yet opened. We sit in the Chevrolet pickup, listening to rock music.
The time for my leaving Alaska is rapidly approaching.
I look out of the window, still dark before dawn, at the constant drizzle of rain.
What am I going to miss about this place?
The unclimable mountains, the north wind freezing our clothes to our bodies? The impenetrable undergrowth, with thorns that can rip even the toughest clothes to pieces? The clear, icy creeks, whose waters got into my boots so often? The fog, the cold, or the fact that you sometimes don't see the sun for weeks?
The ankle-breaking rocks, with their thick, wet covering of moss, so slippery that it was impossible to walk on them without falling over? The rain? Sometimes dripping, sometimes heavy, sometimes torrential; making it impractical to use binoculars, making you feel depressed, and making everything sodden with its cold touch? The unpredictable flights, the rockfalls on the railtracks, or the fact that you simply cannot plan more than one day ahead?
I don't know why this country is so appealing!
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What is it about it that has captured the hearts of so many hunters?
If someone asked me, right now, what it is that I love about Alaska, I couldn't give a definite answer. Nevertheless, as I watch the Alaskan dawn, I can feel my heart breaking.
Have I really got to know Alaska?
Can anyone really know all about a country? I don't even know Hungary. Certainly, I've spent many, many days in this wonderful state. I can't even count the number of towns and settlements I have been to. I have met so many Alaskans and, with a few exceptions, they have all been amazing people. Never before have I come across that strong desire to help, which is so characteristic of them. It's not hard to make new friends here. I have not found such open-hearted, affable people in any other country.
I love Alaska.
I have taken to it so much that I am having to rewrite all my future plans. I must come back here to hunt. For the time being, I'm not going to Australia; I shan't be going to Africa for a while, and for the next couple of years mountain game in Asia has nothing to fear from me. But brown bears, grizzlies and black bears should watch out. There is no doubt that they will be bagged. The question simply is: when. I, of course, shall do my best, and, with Greg as my guide, success will be guaranteed. The two of us make a dangerous team. No, sorry, I mean the three of us, as I cannot praise Randy too highly, either. And, if I include my Blaser, as well - what caliber barrel I'll use has not yet been decided - then, those bears will have every reason to be worried. But, unfortunately, it will not be this season. They can relax for now.
My plane journey is made easier by the fact that Randy will be flying with me as far as Seattle.
He's going back to his family in Montana, to catch up with his civilian work.
After leaving Valdez, and negotiating Anchorage Airport with only a small fight - the computers of Alaska Airways couldn't understand that I'm travelling today, not tomorrow - we get to Seattle and, surprise, have a hamburger in the airport restaurant.
Our conversation is all about hunting brown bears.
For a safe bear hunt the co-operation required between hunter and guide should be closer than usual (yet another reason to go with Greg and Randy). After the bear has been favorably assessed and chosen - generally done from the boat - then the exciting part, the stalking, starts.
When the guide and hunter get within range, the hunter must wait patiently until the guide has also got himself into a comfortable position to shoot, then he aims at the brown bear and prepares to fire.
According to Greg's house rules, the client must fire a second shot, immediately after the first. If the guide does not hear the lock - because, obviously, he is looking at the bear through his
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reticle, not at the hunter - then he will shoot. If the client keeps shooting until he empties his gun, or the bear tries to attack them, then the guide will fire again. There's no time to reload, as they have to prevent the bear escaping from the sandy shore into the undergrowth. That is why Randy has suggested using bigger bullets, with a larger caliber, which will kill faster. In Brooks Range there is both the time and the opportunity to watch the bear for a longer period - there is very little plant cover for them there - but the South Alaskan coast is a more difficult place.
The world record Alaskan Brown Bear is on display at Anchorage Airport. I can tell you, it's no teddy bear. It is as big as a Volkswagen Golf and its head is the size of the average fridge.
Randy says that, although the biggest bears are found on Kodiak Island, we should remember two things.
One is, that the average body and skull size of the bears found on the South Alaskan coast is no different to those on Kodiak Island. The other is, that hunters should know that on Kodiak Island the hunt starts from the tent. The hunter must shoot the first bear he sees. Hunts there take a minimum of ten days, but there are outfitters who, to ensure victory, organize hunts lasting two weeks. When hunting under those conditions, there will almost always be a chance of a shot, but there is less of an opportunity to be selective.
Hunting from a boat is not the least bit unethical. The most important proof of this is that it is a standard, legal method of hunting. And what is legal in Alaska must be ethical, as it is a true hunting country. The law forbids any dubious or unsporting methods, and these regulations have been devised by local people, who know all the problems, and their solutions, that can crop up here. When I left Hungary, I was slightly apprehensive about the prospect of shooting piles of goats from the comfort of the boat. As it turned out, I haver never before struggled as hard as I did to bag that goat, up on the mountain peak.
The conclusion of our conversation is that I am going to shoot my first brown bear with Greg's team. It is not quite two weeks since I had to hunt grizzly with two certifiable lunatics, and I really don't want to go through that again. Greg and his team have given me a first class time when hunting Dall sheep, caribou and goat; I have no reason to change from them. And if, in the future, I feel like bagging one more brown bear, then Kodiak Island will always be waiting; I'm sure it's not going to drift away.
In Seattle I say goodbye to Randy, and get on the plane to Denver.
Denver Airport has the most advanced luggage handling and tracking system in the world. I haven't switched airlines, so I have every reason to hope that, at the end of my last complicated journey before I return to Hungary, one that involves many changes, my luggage will arrive safely. When I arrive, I'm in no mood to try and find out, for the 100th time, where to collect my
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gun, and which carousel to stand in front of, so I hire a porter to do it all for me and sit on his trolley, awaiting any developments. It was a good idea; he collects all my bags, and I slowly realise that one trolley is not going to be big enough. This is Denver's new airport; the old one was too close to the city center, and, because of noise levels and environmental taxes, its maintenance became too expensive. This new, shiny, gleaming, ultra-modern one is 18.5mi. from the city.
It is past 11.00pm when I get to my hotel.
