Canadian Moose Hunt
By Dan Martin
We had lined up the moose hunt several months in advance. In
August, my father (Gail Martin) and Dr. Win Bradford flew the Cessna 180 to Canada to
check out the area and meet the guide John Blackwell. John and his wife Mary Lou run a
fishing and hunting lodge on Moose Lake, British Columbia, Canada (about 140 miles west of
Williams Lake B.C.) Since fishing season was on, dad and Win naturally threw in some
fishing gear and had one of the best fishing trips imaginable. Rainbow trout averaging 15
to 19" and plenty of 'em. The report came back that the facilities were excellent,
with even greater praise for Mary Lou's cooking. John and Mary Lou moved to Canada about
17 years ago and have carved out a beautiful home and lodge along with several guest
cabins, all well made and well furnished.
September 28th finally rolled around. With the plane loaded
and Win as pilot, we left Walla Walla at day break. After one short stop for fuel and
another to clear Canadian customs, we were soon landing on the 3000 ft. runway that John
had built next to the lodge. This region is accessible only by plane since the nearest
road is about 40 miles away. We were met by John and Mary Lou along with our personal
guides Eddie and Edward. Both are Carrier Indians who were born and raised in the area and
know the country, to coin a phrase "like the back of their hands."
The plan: Edward, Win and I were to be dropped off at a
nearby lake via John's float plane and dad would stay at the main lodge and hunt Moose
Lake with Eddie. So away we flew to Layman Lake. Another beautiful lake with comfortable
cabins. Two days of hiking the area turned up one small bull moose with a cow and calf.
Toward nightfall on the third day, John flew in to check on us and let us know that dad
had taken a good size moose on the second day. It turns out that on the first day dad and
Eddie had hiked about one half mile from Moose Lake and ran across several cows and calves
along with some young bull moose. So they went back into the same area the second day and
spotted a 3 year old bull. After a good deal of stalking, dad was in position for a shot.
As luck would have it, the brush was heavy in this area and the first arrow struck a twig
sailing it up and over the moose's back. The moose trotted off another 10 yards and
stopped, allowing a clear 50 yard shot. One arrow through the lungs and down he went less
than 100 yards from the hit. Dad and Eddie spent the next day packing his moose down the
hill via horses to the boat and back to the lodge.
I was still mooseless, so John took Edward and I to another
lake where he had previously seen some large bulls. The next morning at daybreak, the two
of us started out. About two hours had passed of my marveling at how Edward can follow
tracks. He can tell you what type, size, direction and how long ago any animal in the
territory had been there. Soon we found ourselves standing on a small beach with a large
willow thicket to our left. Edward told me to stay near a main trail we had just passed
and he would check out the other end of the willow thicket. He told me that if the moose
came out it would come down that trail. (I thought sure, how does he know?) So I peeked
into the willow thicket and thought, probably not a moose within 100 miles. I just stepped
back out onto the beach and out came a large bull moose on the trail Edward had told me
about. I had an arrow readied before I knew it, and like my dad, I had to hit brush on the
first shot. My heart sank. I knew the moose would bolt back to the willows and be gone
forever. I really believe that this old moose figured he was king of the roost because he
jumped and trotted toward the beach after the arrow went by and gave a look like "how
would you like me to come over there and stomp you into the mud?" He gave me the mad
look but not a good shot and I was already at full draw again and holding. The moose was
behind a fallen tree and the vital area was covered. The old thoughts of - shoot! Maybe
the arrow will make it through without another skip, no don't shoot, yes shoot, went
through my mind about 100 times in three seconds. Luckily the bull took one step forward
and provided the shot I was looking for.
The arrow hit perfectly and disappeared. The moose jumped
forward and headed toward the water and I had another arrow on its way. (Because I'm a
firm believer in "if you can get another arrow in 'em - do it). This one hit him in
the hip and the bull hit the water. With sand and water flying, he traveled about 70 yards
and fell dead in 2 1/2 feet of water, and I had one dead moose on my hands. You don't just
throw one of these critters around. So with some discussion about what to do, Edward
decided to hike back to the main lodge and see if he could round up John and the plane or
the horses. Edward headed out after telling me a short grizzly bear story and how they
frequent this particular beach. Four and a half hours later, in flew John, dad, and Edward
in the float plane. They tied on to the moose and dragged it up to the shore with the
plane. (Well as close as you can get a 1200 to 1400 pound moose to the shore). The caping
and quartering and all was done in about 10 inches of water but all went well and we were
soon on our way back to the main lodge.
What a marvelous hunt with marvelous people!
