An excerpt as it appears in Alaska Bears, Stirred and Shaken.
Jake guides two German guest hunters after an irritated grizzly.
I took two of the younger Germans, my fine Labrador, Max, and an assistant guide, Andy, down the valley to the south.
The bear was maybe three miles from us. It was a medium sized, light colored bear and it was ambling fairly rapidly across the hillside munching on berries as it went.
The young Germans wanted to go after the bear right away. The grizzly was big enough, but I told them that it was moving too fast for us to catch up and we would be much better off staying where we were, as we could glass a large area in hopes of finding an even bigger bear.
I had convinced those two young, raring-to-go Ubermensch to remain contentedly in our position when a larger, darker bear showed on that same far hillside and it appeared to be following the first one. So, we bailed off the South Overlook and began humping and twisting our way through the bushes. We reached the south side of Popple Creek just in time to see the blond bear top out and go over a saddle into the next drainage, with the dark bear close behind. By then they were in sheep country and soon out of sight.
We moved up to a knoll that provided good visibility and started to take out our sandwiches when, to my extreme surprise, the dark bear reappeared on the ridge and started downhill toward us. I told the fellow with the bear tag, Gunter, to pocket his sandwich as we would go up after the bear, right away. I forgot about my knee discomfort, which in fact, seemed to have disappeared. A bear can be a huge distraction – sometimes for the better.
As we were about to leave, I told my assistant, Andy, to stay put and keep watching the bear. I would be looking back to him for directions. The hillside we were climbing had a series of little flats or benches thirty to forty yards in width. Between them were steep slopes. It was a distinctly terraced hillside. Before we were out of sight of the bear due to the grade of the first slope, we saw the bear sit down on its rump on one of the clumps of grass and sedge. The day was warm and we were all sweaty. Pesky mosquitoes and white sox followed us in pestiferous swarms.
A golden eagle swooped by the bear and on the bird’s second pass the bear got up and jumped at the eagle. This was one very irritated grizzly!
We lost sight of the bear when we got to the base of the hill, so I told Gunter to put a bullet in the chamber leaving his safety on and replace the round in the magazine. I did the same, which gave each of us four shots, rather than just three.
Max, my Lab, was just to the left and a couple of steps behind me while Gunter was to my right and a few steps back.
We came to the first bench and eased over the edge as we looked for the bear, but saw nothing. The second bench was the same – devoid of any sign of the bear.
Using hand signals, Andy was still indicating we should continue going up the mountainside. As we were going up the slope toward the next bench, I became aware of someone screaming back down at the creek. I jerked my head back around and looked uphill to see the big grizzly coming full speed downhill, fully focused on us at about twenty yards and closing fast.
I said, “Gunter, shoot!” as I held just beneath the bear’s chin and squeezed. Our two shots were simultaneous, Pa-Boom! I jacked another round in with the bear still coming, and my second bullet impacted the beast’s chest.
“Jake, mine wafen doesn’t verk!” he screamed at me in fear and frustration. Gunter’s rifle had jammed.
At extremely close quarters, my dog Max broke for the bear and the dog’s action caused the big grizzly to turn to its right, toward Max. My third shot, a broadside, was a bit aft and high. It broke the bear’s pelvis and the left side.
Max and the bear went over the steep edge of the slope into the willows at the edge of the draw and in the creek drainage. They were immediately out of sight.
I was worried that my fine dog might be killed, but Max came back up over the edge, ears flopping, tongue hanging out and panting noisily. Max was really excited and kept turning to look back toward the bear.
With my last round chambered I approached the edge, as I stuffed three more rounds into the magazine. Then I saw the bear trying to climb up the opposite side and out of the small creek, headed away from us.
Gunter was ready with a new round in his rifle, so I told him to finish the bear. His shot hit the bear squarely at the base of the neck and it collapsed.
Gunter was open mouthed, gasping for breath, but no sound was coming from him. Shortly thereafter he regained his ability to breathe and began to relate his perception of the freshly-experienced, never-to-be-forgotten incident.
Andy and the other German, Uli, got to us much quicker than we had covered the same distance and Uli was loudly berating me for putting his good friend at such an inordinate risk.
“Jake, you are awful guide, mine freund could have been killed, gefallen…” he would lapse in and out of Deutsch, then back into English, as he ranted on.
Gunter told him, “Uli, SHUT UP! This is the most exciting day — the most important and favorite day – of my life!”
So, Uli abruptly switched his vocal gears and began extolling my expertise and expounding on what a wonderful guide and fellow I was after all.
You can read about Jake’s experiences in his five very entertaining books – Alaska Tales, Alaska Flying, Alaska Bears, Kodiak Alaska Deer and Alaska Hunting. Each book has over 200 pages including photos. All five are now available in the Sporting Classics Store.
