Troy Hamon
MEMBER
PAKN
Perhaps you have read previously my posts about preparing for a winter rabbit hunt. I'm sure some of you were under the impression that it was a moose hunt. Don't feel too confused, I thought it was a moose hunt too.
And just in case you didn't already notice by looking down...this is very long...
Thursday the wind was starting to moderate again, and most importantly the winds aloft at 3,000 feet dropped to 23 kts, which was similar to the surface winds. In between loading the airplane, checking systems, and trying to find other ways to talk myself out of going, I eventually ran out of ways to delay and got in the plane. It fired up because I'd had it plugged in to my nifty little Honda generator, which was, along with the engine blanket, the last thing loaded. The engine fired up, though it still behaved as if it was cold out. Which, at zero degrees F and wind 15 kts gusting 21, I guess it was. All systems checked normal, and tower directed me to runway 36. I asked for a wind check along with my takeoff clearance, and it was blowing 16 kts from 340, so I rolled onto the runway, applied power, and went straight up.
Wow.
I hadn't realized with the load I had in the back how light the airplane still was. But I probably had less than 150 lbs of gear in the plane, full tanks, and me. Which is a lot less than what I carry on many flights where I am hauling emergency gear and a passenger or two.
Of course, that headwind coupled with the cold made a big difference as well. I headed up King Salmon Creek to look for moose, and found none. The hills with the north wind piling over them made for a bit of bumpiness, so I headed out of there and crossed over the Alagnak River, flying down the Iliamna terminal moraine. Found three cows in a perfect setup for a hunt, but no bulls. Actually, at this time of year, I probably should say that I found no antlered bulls. Who knows how many of the 'cows' I've seen lately have been bulls that already dropped their headware. I flew a few laps around these moose hoping to inspire one of them to grow antlers or perhaps spot a buddy that was properly endowed, but no luck. It was too bad, as the setup was perfect. A couple long lakes with good ice surface conditions was just next to them, and I could have set up on either of those and had an easy walk down the lake, then climbing up the ridge above them. From there, it would have been a great vantage point for glassing the area they were in. Alas! No rack, no hunt. On I went.
I crossed the Kvichak River and decided to work my way toward the caribou I had spotted Monday by working my way around the lakes behind Levelok. Flying that way I looked down and there, right below me in the forest, was a cow...and nearby was a bull. Small rack, but definitely a bull. That got my attention in a hurry. So I looked around and saw a whole bunch of lakes of various size. After marking the location of the animals, I identified a lake that had lots of room to work (a mile long) and was out of line with the wind so my scent wouldn't be blowing straight back toward the moose. That sounds like a good thought process, but there are some things that were left out. The lake I chose had no woods on it. Meaning little to no chance of a fire and less vegetative cover. It was also almost two miles from the moose. I thought that would be fine, as I run marathons I figured a trek like that would be tough, but for the actual meat pack I'd work off one of the closer lakes and take the larger loads out of the big lake after flying the meat there. I've since rearranged my priorities in how to choose a camp site, but more on that later.
A couple low passes on the various lakes suggested decent ice conditions, but it wasn't bare ice. I dragged my tires on the lake to ascertain the condition of the surface, and it was crunchy, but the snow appeared to be around an inch deep for the most part, with occasional 2 or 3 inch drifts. After three passes to try to identify any surprises and make sure it was all good, I came around and landed. On short final, I was hardly moving, so I looked at my GPS and found a ground speed under 40 mph. Now that must be what flying a cub feels like! Pretty cool. After an absurdly short landing on the overly long lake, I taxied off to the shore next to a little peninsula that stuck out into the lake maybe 100 feet and shut down the plane.
First order of business, I walked around and got out the spare rope parts from the back. I chopped holes a few inches into the ice under each of the three tie down attach points, put the ropes into the holes, filled them with crushed ice and snow, and filled the holes with water. After a few minutes, I added more water, then again. Finally, I got the tie down straps out and attached them from the little ropes coming out of the ice to the aircraft tie down attach points, but didn't pull them taut. The wind was blowing pretty good at that point, probably 25 mph. The thermometer claimed zero degrees, but I was busy and active and keeping warm.
I started to evaluate my tent pitch options, and realized that unless I was going to establish some sort of snow hut I would need to pitch my tent on the ice as well. I had fretted over this a bit in my head, but hadn't really made a plan ahead of time. In part probably because there was no good plan to make. I didn't have the proper tent for this application, which was obvious as I went along. The tent I was using is not free standing. The design is very light and doesn't have unneeded extras, but it also isn't easy to get in and out of, and is basically made to pitch on a nice lawn. So now I needed to pitch it on the ice and I started the same process of establishing lines in the ice to attach it to. But I was out of water.
So I pulled out my stove. Which wouldn't light. A simple white gas stove, but at that temperature I couldn't get the gas to ignite. Perhaps I could have pooled some of the gas in the burner to make it work, but what I did was get out the propane torch I had brought along (now there was a truly good idea...), lit it, and used it to warm the fuel supply tube and light the stove. I ended up needing to use that process every time I lit the stove.
Stove going, started melting snow to make water. Unloaded the rest of the gear from the plane. Between packing in supervising school for the kids, making two trips to the airport to load the plane in windy and really cold conditions, and having to do it without access to the airport surface (gate wouldn't open...apparently something about the cold windy snap didn't agree with it, so I was hoofing the stuff through a walk-in gate the first load, drove around to another gate and got permission to enter there from the business owner...) I hadn't had the best conditions for loading the airplane. As a result, though it was full, it could have been arranged better. Sorted out the mess, identified what needed to be done, and kept making water, cutting holes in the ice, filling them to create attachments, repeat ad nauseam. Sometime in there sun went down and it started to get even chillier. I first responded by putting on my extra layer of wearable sleeping bag, a huge winter coat I got the first winter we came to Alaska. Then a bit later I added the pants.
While waiting for the turning ice to water and back into ice process at one point, I decided to check ice depth. I also thought I could save some time if I hacked a hole in the ice to make water so I didn't have to melt so much snow. I dug out one of the two hatchets and started working at the ice. I made the hole a little larger around to give room for some real depth, but I kept having to widen it more as I went down, working with the little tool I had. In between treks back to work on the tent, I eventually had about a 10 inch deep hole, but no sign that I was actually getting anywhere. I abandoned that effort because it was making my hand and arm sore. So much for easy water.
I also went to check on the airplane tie downs and decided it was good to give them a test. The ice where the ropes were buried had attained a sheen that looked consistent with the ice around it, no appearance of wetness anywhere. So I cinched up as hard as I could on all of the tie downs and couldn't get them to even budge. It was a beautiful feeling to have the plane well secured, as the wind continued to whip all evening. I was set up with the fire over in a little wind shelter, and used some of that for the tent, but it wasn't enough to offer any help to the airplane.
When the tent was all set up, my feet had started getting cold from sitting and waiting. The sun was down, I'd been working at airplane and tent duties for five hours, and I had decided that I was going to bring a different tent next time. My Sierra Designs Stretch Prelude was looking pretty good, who cares how much it weighs? I seem to recall a problem with a zipper, better get that looked at soon, because I want that tent with me next time.
And just in case you didn't already notice by looking down...this is very long...
Thursday the wind was starting to moderate again, and most importantly the winds aloft at 3,000 feet dropped to 23 kts, which was similar to the surface winds. In between loading the airplane, checking systems, and trying to find other ways to talk myself out of going, I eventually ran out of ways to delay and got in the plane. It fired up because I'd had it plugged in to my nifty little Honda generator, which was, along with the engine blanket, the last thing loaded. The engine fired up, though it still behaved as if it was cold out. Which, at zero degrees F and wind 15 kts gusting 21, I guess it was. All systems checked normal, and tower directed me to runway 36. I asked for a wind check along with my takeoff clearance, and it was blowing 16 kts from 340, so I rolled onto the runway, applied power, and went straight up.
Wow.
I hadn't realized with the load I had in the back how light the airplane still was. But I probably had less than 150 lbs of gear in the plane, full tanks, and me. Which is a lot less than what I carry on many flights where I am hauling emergency gear and a passenger or two.
Of course, that headwind coupled with the cold made a big difference as well. I headed up King Salmon Creek to look for moose, and found none. The hills with the north wind piling over them made for a bit of bumpiness, so I headed out of there and crossed over the Alagnak River, flying down the Iliamna terminal moraine. Found three cows in a perfect setup for a hunt, but no bulls. Actually, at this time of year, I probably should say that I found no antlered bulls. Who knows how many of the 'cows' I've seen lately have been bulls that already dropped their headware. I flew a few laps around these moose hoping to inspire one of them to grow antlers or perhaps spot a buddy that was properly endowed, but no luck. It was too bad, as the setup was perfect. A couple long lakes with good ice surface conditions was just next to them, and I could have set up on either of those and had an easy walk down the lake, then climbing up the ridge above them. From there, it would have been a great vantage point for glassing the area they were in. Alas! No rack, no hunt. On I went.
I crossed the Kvichak River and decided to work my way toward the caribou I had spotted Monday by working my way around the lakes behind Levelok. Flying that way I looked down and there, right below me in the forest, was a cow...and nearby was a bull. Small rack, but definitely a bull. That got my attention in a hurry. So I looked around and saw a whole bunch of lakes of various size. After marking the location of the animals, I identified a lake that had lots of room to work (a mile long) and was out of line with the wind so my scent wouldn't be blowing straight back toward the moose. That sounds like a good thought process, but there are some things that were left out. The lake I chose had no woods on it. Meaning little to no chance of a fire and less vegetative cover. It was also almost two miles from the moose. I thought that would be fine, as I run marathons I figured a trek like that would be tough, but for the actual meat pack I'd work off one of the closer lakes and take the larger loads out of the big lake after flying the meat there. I've since rearranged my priorities in how to choose a camp site, but more on that later.
A couple low passes on the various lakes suggested decent ice conditions, but it wasn't bare ice. I dragged my tires on the lake to ascertain the condition of the surface, and it was crunchy, but the snow appeared to be around an inch deep for the most part, with occasional 2 or 3 inch drifts. After three passes to try to identify any surprises and make sure it was all good, I came around and landed. On short final, I was hardly moving, so I looked at my GPS and found a ground speed under 40 mph. Now that must be what flying a cub feels like! Pretty cool. After an absurdly short landing on the overly long lake, I taxied off to the shore next to a little peninsula that stuck out into the lake maybe 100 feet and shut down the plane.
First order of business, I walked around and got out the spare rope parts from the back. I chopped holes a few inches into the ice under each of the three tie down attach points, put the ropes into the holes, filled them with crushed ice and snow, and filled the holes with water. After a few minutes, I added more water, then again. Finally, I got the tie down straps out and attached them from the little ropes coming out of the ice to the aircraft tie down attach points, but didn't pull them taut. The wind was blowing pretty good at that point, probably 25 mph. The thermometer claimed zero degrees, but I was busy and active and keeping warm.
I started to evaluate my tent pitch options, and realized that unless I was going to establish some sort of snow hut I would need to pitch my tent on the ice as well. I had fretted over this a bit in my head, but hadn't really made a plan ahead of time. In part probably because there was no good plan to make. I didn't have the proper tent for this application, which was obvious as I went along. The tent I was using is not free standing. The design is very light and doesn't have unneeded extras, but it also isn't easy to get in and out of, and is basically made to pitch on a nice lawn. So now I needed to pitch it on the ice and I started the same process of establishing lines in the ice to attach it to. But I was out of water.
So I pulled out my stove. Which wouldn't light. A simple white gas stove, but at that temperature I couldn't get the gas to ignite. Perhaps I could have pooled some of the gas in the burner to make it work, but what I did was get out the propane torch I had brought along (now there was a truly good idea...), lit it, and used it to warm the fuel supply tube and light the stove. I ended up needing to use that process every time I lit the stove.
Stove going, started melting snow to make water. Unloaded the rest of the gear from the plane. Between packing in supervising school for the kids, making two trips to the airport to load the plane in windy and really cold conditions, and having to do it without access to the airport surface (gate wouldn't open...apparently something about the cold windy snap didn't agree with it, so I was hoofing the stuff through a walk-in gate the first load, drove around to another gate and got permission to enter there from the business owner...) I hadn't had the best conditions for loading the airplane. As a result, though it was full, it could have been arranged better. Sorted out the mess, identified what needed to be done, and kept making water, cutting holes in the ice, filling them to create attachments, repeat ad nauseam. Sometime in there sun went down and it started to get even chillier. I first responded by putting on my extra layer of wearable sleeping bag, a huge winter coat I got the first winter we came to Alaska. Then a bit later I added the pants.
While waiting for the turning ice to water and back into ice process at one point, I decided to check ice depth. I also thought I could save some time if I hacked a hole in the ice to make water so I didn't have to melt so much snow. I dug out one of the two hatchets and started working at the ice. I made the hole a little larger around to give room for some real depth, but I kept having to widen it more as I went down, working with the little tool I had. In between treks back to work on the tent, I eventually had about a 10 inch deep hole, but no sign that I was actually getting anywhere. I abandoned that effort because it was making my hand and arm sore. So much for easy water.
I also went to check on the airplane tie downs and decided it was good to give them a test. The ice where the ropes were buried had attained a sheen that looked consistent with the ice around it, no appearance of wetness anywhere. So I cinched up as hard as I could on all of the tie downs and couldn't get them to even budge. It was a beautiful feeling to have the plane well secured, as the wind continued to whip all evening. I was set up with the fire over in a little wind shelter, and used some of that for the tent, but it wasn't enough to offer any help to the airplane.
When the tent was all set up, my feet had started getting cold from sitting and waiting. The sun was down, I'd been working at airplane and tent duties for five hours, and I had decided that I was going to bring a different tent next time. My Sierra Designs Stretch Prelude was looking pretty good, who cares how much it weighs? I seem to recall a problem with a zipper, better get that looked at soon, because I want that tent with me next time.
