Today has turned into a fantastic day, which I'll never forget!
At 9.00 I took a taxi to Anchorage Zoo, which cost me a fortune. This is the only zoo in North America which specializes in displaying all the game species in the north. It's an excellent opportunity for a prospective hunter to check out the species he's going after. Body-size can be difficult to judge from a photograph, but it's vital to have some idea when, for instance, considering the angle of fire.
From the very start of my arrangements, I knew I'd come here. I especially asked Andy to make sure this visit was included. I have a small surprise planned, which I hope will repay some of the pleasure I'll get from my visit to this state. I have decided to adopt a wolf! This will enable me to help support the zoo, and indirectly, the game in Alaska.
Carrie Smeldon, the head of the adoption project, was appointed to accompany me, and, to my surprise, when I arrived at the gate she hadn't turned up. So I began phoning around to find out who had misunderstood whom, when I discovered that she was waiting for me in the lounge of the Hilton.
That's a journey of at least twenty minutes, so I had time to look around the entrance, read a few notices and talk to some of the employees.
Alaska Zoo is a completely independent institution; they don't get a single dollar in support from the state, and don't even ask for any. Without exception, all the animals live in runs that are identical to their natural habitats; there is absolutely no trace of concrete anywhere. Almost all the animals arrived at the zoo after having some sort of mishap. The park is full of orphaned, abandoned and injured animals, as well as others at risk, and provides an excellent chance for observation and study for both professional, and amateur, researchers. It has been in existence since 1968, and plays an important in giving Anchorage schoolchildren a proper education into the fauna of their land.
When Carrie arrived she handed me the certificate which would make me the adoptive parent of Nikolai, a young male wolf. I received a document giving me the all details of his life as well as those of his pack; then the guided tour began.
We saw all the well-known species of the north, including those that I most wanted to hunt. The Dall sheep - born in captivity - stood watching us just a few paces from the end of its run, giving me a good chance to study it. What was most strange to me was that these animals - unlike those languishing in so many other zoos - were not standing around looking depressed, but were running about, eating
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and drinking, enjoying their lives. I got to meet the keepers and found them all to be committed and dedicated people. On my first visit Nikolai welcomed us by jumping about; he obviously likes his his keepers.
I was most impressed by the brown bear. It's a huge animal; I never realised it was so big. The stuffed ones in museums,and the smaller sub-species in european zoos give no indication of its true size.
The damp earth squelches noisily beneath its massive feet which are the size of baking trays; its claws are enormous, and its head is the size of a barrel.
I'd better watch out when I'm hunting.
After looking at a few more animals we walk up a gently rising path and then, suddenly, I spot my greatest enemy: the Yak. Memories come flooding back ...
April 2008
Far from here, over 5000 miles away, I'm climbing a mountain in the ranges of Nepal; loaded with rucksacks, we struggle to complete our daily mileage. We are on our way to the base camp on Mt.
Everest, and have just started our journey on the difficult slope between Phakding and Namche Bazar. Gadjin, the number 2 sherpa leader, and I have left the rest of the group behind. We are both enjoying the challenge and competing between ourselves to get to the finish first. But, up in the mountains it's not a smart idea to compete against a sherpa, especially at a height of over 9500ft., going up a mountain, and loaded with a rucksack. At these altitudes you start to feel the lack of oxygen.
I really do my best, but I can't keep up with Gadjin. He's at least 300ft in front of me, when we suddenly come across a yak caravan ahead of us. The baggage tied to the yaks' backs suggests that they are part of an expedition attempting to reach the summit. Gadjin reaches the line of animals and begins to zigzag between them with confident steps. He has already overtaken the leader, and with this advantage is proceeding unobstructed towards Namche-Bazar.
Now it's my turn.
I overtake the first four or five yaks easily, but then the gaps between the animals get smaller. They block the whole width of the path, climbing slowly under the weight of their huge burdens. Leaping from one side of the path to the other, I am searching for a place to overtake, just like in a Formula 1
race. There is no gap and I have to slow down.
It's no good. Gadjin will reach the finish very soon!
But now... a narrow space has opened between the animals... I jump into the gap. I have to dodge a baggage-laden flank, and then avoid a nervous head. I look to the left hoping there is room for me on the side of the path.
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Forward!
With a quick burst of speed I move towards the left side of the path, but then I spot a previously unnoticed yak to my right… too late... a lightening move from the animal… a thump on my thigh...
I'm petrified with fear. The yak's horn is stuck in the leg of my mountaineering shorts.
It takes a long moment to realise that I'm not injured,but it was only a question of millimeters.
With one single, desperate jump I leap out of the danger zone. Hearing my frightened yells Gadjin comes running towards me at a breathtaking speed, and then - just like a trained cage-fighter - he aims two kicks at the head of the animal that is bothering me.
I watch all of this standing safely behind a tree and confirm that I am undamaged, apart from a rip in my shorts.
Since then I have had a great respect for yaks.
Later Gadjin tells me that these animals don't like it when someone unexpectedly comes from behind them into their line of vision. They are very easily annoyed. Around yaks you should always move slowly, keeping out of the range of their horns. For him it's second nature, as he grew up with them, and during the following weeks I was constantly having to yell to to him discipline some irritated or rebellious yak.
Anyone looking at this Alaskan yak might well think it a dull,tame creature. Standing there peacefully, no-one could recognise its evil ambitions. I, however, have seen its dark side, and know very well that it is only waiting for its chance.
I find it more reassuring to have the yak fenced in than the grizzly bear.
After a very professional tour, the treat of the day is still waiting for me: I am going to meet Nikolai!
Carrie is going to take me to an area closed off to other visitors, and after the usual cell-phone conversations Nikolai's two keepers turn up, a young man and an exceptionally pretty girl (I haven't seen anyone this pretty in Alaska so far). Two wolves, Nikolai and Windy, are called into a lock, which the two keepers also enter. Nikolai is the girl's favourite, and he goes straight to her. The two animals are led out and walked along the meandering path like pet dogs.
The only difference is that their leashes are thick steel chains.
The two beasts are perfectly behaved, and do not try to make use of their huge strength. But if, by chance, they happen to tug on their chains, the keepers are hardly able to hold them back. They're much bigger than I expected, and their proportions are quite different from dogs': they are longer and leaner, and their skulls and jaws are immensely strong. And they do not stink at all - they just have a distinctive smell.
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We walk down the hillside, and as I'm not yet allowed to approach them I walk a few feet behind.The girl explains to me that though they are tame, they are still very much wild animals. They aren't yet used to my presence, and my smell and movements are unfamiliar. If a wolf feels threatened its instincts give it only one option: attack.
At the bottom of the hill the keepers make them lie down and start stroking and scratching them as if they were playful puppies. Nikolai is looking at me nervously - perhaps he doesn't know that I've adopted him - but Windy is more relaxed. The young man signals me to approach Windy. My heart is in my mouth and my pulse is racing wildly. Up close she is even bigger than I thought. Carefully, I touch her. Her fur is very coarse, more like bristles; in parts it reminds me of a wild boar. Windy happily tolerates my presence, and seems pleased to be the center of attention of two people. She makes no hostile movements, so I start to relax as well.
We get up and head back towards their run.
The weather is wonderful and the result of the experience is that I'm in feeling quite euphoric. I have stroked a live wolf in Alaska! Windy is a lovely little wolf, and we are now good friends. At the run the girl says it would be a shame for me not to have stroked my adopted wolf, and so she makes Nikolai lie down and starts to scratch him. He doesn't feel a bit threatened. I slowly move forward - the girl tells me to approach his head so that he can see me - and I begin to stroke his enormous head. there is an interesting bump on the top of their heads; supposedly dogs once had it too, but it has now disappeared. They have higher intellectual capacities than dogs, and the ratio of their brains to their bodyweight is also greater, mainly because wolves have to memorise their entire territory and all their smell patterns.
I've never seen such beautiful eyes; Windy's are yellow, like those of a werewolf in a horror movie; Nikolai's are blue. Despite his frightening appearance, Nikolai is now completely relaxed, and I've been scratching his head for ten minutes. He's all muscle, tendons and bone, there's not an ounce of fat on him. He even lets me lift his lips to examine his teeth.
These are serious teeth! Beside these any dogs' teeth would look small.
When I've finished stroking them, my two new pals are returned to the lock, but I however, have other jobs to do: I have to feed the the wolves. There on a trolley is half of a frozen caribou; some pieces are in a bucket but the rest has not been cut up.We walk through the spacious run and at certain places I put down a pile of meat. The girl says that if I shoot something - they know I'm a hunter and do not resent it - I would be welcome to send the meat to them. Unfortunately I cannot promise to do this as I'll be very far from here.
They deliberately do not feed the wolves individually, but let them all eat at the same time. It's important for them to establish their own pack hierarchy. Because the animals are well-kept they share the meat without any dangerous fighting.
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I've spent a wonderful day at the Alaska Zoo, and Carrie kindly drives me back to the hotel.
There is news waiting for me.
The good news is that the parcel from Cabela's has arrived.
The bad news is that it is so large and heavy that even the giant-sized hotel porter almost broke his back carrying it, staggering from wall to wall as he came into my room. It contains just about everything that I ordered, though some of the goods were out of stock and I'll have to get them from local hunting shops tomorrow - it looks like I've cleaned out Cabela's!
All the sizes are correct, and the quality is obviously excellent. Certainly, any lack of hunting success will not be due to my clothes or equipment.
I've really bought a huge amount of stuff; I might have overdone it a little. I do like to have the correct clothing for particular activities, weather and field conditions, but I'm not quite sure that six different hunting jackets and coats are really necessary for a successful hunt. After getting rid of all the packing material, the weight, thankfully, is somewhat reduced: they use a lot of it here and I fill an entire box with this junk, which I then have to get removed from my room. Slowly, my second box, which I'm going to send home, is filling up with my excess stuff. Luckily there's a post-office near the hotel, so I won't need to hire a truck to get it there.
The other bit of good news is that the internet is back on.
Eddie - the Alaskan S.C.I. president - apologises again for cancelling the meeting, and we arrange another for 6.30 tomorrow morning in the hotel. Hopefully nothing will happen to stop this one .....
But there's a message with bad news from Andy .
Because of heavy rains near the town of Seward, large boulders have tumbled on to the rail tracks and so Alaska Rail has stopped all trains until Friday - today is Wednesday - though there are buses to carry the passengers. I'm not pleased about this. One of the aims of my trip is to see some of the places and routes visited by Széchenyi all those years ago. "To follow in his legendary footsteps" as Andy would put it, but Széchenyi travelled between Seward and Anchorage by train, not bus. The apology from Alaska Railroad is scant comfort. Andy says this is just something you have to get used to in Alaska. This is a remote country with little urbanisation, where the unexpected often occurs because of weather and other adverse circumstances. That's why Eddie couldn't get to our meeting, and why, on Friday, I'm obliged to take the bus instead of the more convenient, and interesting, train.
Ted Heinz, the manager of the Alaska Tactical Shop has written to me: my Nightforce order is ready, and when I get back to Anchorage he's willing to bring it to the hotel personally, any day I like. As well as this, should I have a problem moving around Anchorage or getting to the airport, or indeed, if I get into any situation where I need help, I'm welcome to telephone or write to him and he'll do his best to
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help me. If I make many more friends here, the Anchorage taxi drivers will be out of a job. Ted also mentions that there is a Hungarian girl - Klara - living in Anchorage, and working at the Paris Bakery Cafe, not far from his shop. It's useful to know, and if I have time I'll pay her visit.
As I've already said, there was a misunderstanding this morning about where I was meeting Carrie, but it all got resolved. Andy has emailed me to say that he's left a message for me on the hotel phone, and that if the red light is on it means there's a message. I had in fact noticed that there was something flashing on the damned phone, but I hadn't bothered with it. In my office at home there's always some gadget flashing or ringing, and I haven't come all this way to watch the local phones blinking away. Anyway, when I listened to the message all I could hear was an incomprehensible mutter. Even if I'd heard it first thing in the morning I wouldn't have been any better informed .....
The weather today has been excellent, and the chill of the morning has gone. When I go out to have a hamburger for my dinner - I always have a hamburger - the bright sunshine is dazzling all the passers-by, and the sky is almost crystal-clear.
Just like Hawaii.
Expedition Headquarters
Anchorage Hilton