When his business was thriving, Paul had an invitation to attend a caribou hunt with a friend of his. Things were going well and he a had some time off, so he took his friend up on it. There were months of preparation time. He read up on the territory they’d be hunting and researched as much as he possibly could. It was nothing like he expected and even surpassed his expectations. The two men would be flown into a remote area of Alaska and led by a guide and a cook through the tundra in search of these magnificent animals.
At first glance, Paul noticed that his guide had lots of piercings and some tattoos, which he didn’t hesitate to ask him about. He said if were going to spend a whole week with this guy, he wanted to know as much as he could about him. He wasn’t necessarily making judgments – just protecting himself – and yes, he was making judgments.
The first few days required great stamina as they traveled by foot over the liken covered, scruffy looking trees. They didn’t see a single caribou. About half way into the week, they thought this was a waste of good money and time. On that day, a giant herd appeared on the horizon and Paul had a clear shot. He fired and the gigantic beast crashed to the ground.
“Dances With Wolves” had not yet been made, but if you remember the stories around the campfire and the exaggerations, you’d have a sampling of what took place that evening. It was then that the guide accidentally bumped his firearm and it discharged. The ammunition spun within a quarter of an inch of Paul’s ear and he thought for sure he’d been hit. The guide was extremely apologetic, but Paul’s suspicions about his character were seeming to be coming true.
The guide spent the rest of the trip catering to Paul’s every whim. He would do almost anything to get back in his good graces. Then it was time to leave, but a heavy fog had incased the landscape and there was no way a plane would be able to land there, nor take off. The first night in the wilderness wasn’t too bad. They had plenty of meat to feed them. By the second night, their fuel was depleted and the trees in the area weren’t able to sustain a decent fire, so they resorted to using cigarette lighters to cook their meat.
During those few nights in the darkness of night, they could hear loud explosion sounds in the distance. I don’t think they ever actually found out what the sounds were, but it was enough to get them thinking that war had broken out and they were the last living souls on the planet.
That proved to be false as well. Eventually the plane was able to fly in and rescue them, but during those trying hours, Paul called on God for protection and safety and of course He delivered.
By the way, the head of the caribou now resides in a shed outside of our new old house. The ceiling is high enough to house his gigantic antlers and I don’t have to stare him in the eyes anymore. We wouldn’t be able to get any other furniture in the house if he lived with us.
Paul and Gregory are cut from the same cloth—but the only heads, for now, is the herd mounted on the wall in the new detached garage…..
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Mr. Caroibou resides in a bump out shed attached to the garage. Paul has renamed it the Caribou Lounge, where he can have a beer and look at the animal and recall the stories. We really need to meet someday. I think we’d have a ton in common.
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I think we might need to just meet in the caribou lounge!
I have an affinity for moose and that’s one thing I’ve told Gregory he cannot hunt– but he threatens and says it’s going in our den over the fireplace– the room is big enough but I have said absolutely not!– the herd down in the little garage is enough!
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We will meet in the caribou lounge someday,
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I’ll bring the drinks 🙂
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😜
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I don’t think I will let my husband read this post! He would be wanting to head off and hunt caribou so he could have a big head hanging somewhere around here! Sounds like quite and adventure he had.
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My husband has had a full life of adventures, he keeps life interesting❤️
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Saw caribou when the USAF assigned me to a site in Alaska. A friend of mine and I drove up part of the way to Prudhoe Bay following the dirt road next to the pipeline.
The scenery and the wildlife is spectacular. Didn’t consider the possibility of shooting anything except with a camera.
I suspect the problem Paul’s guide had finding the caribou herd is that they had to go where it is legal to hunt and find the herd by traveling on foot. The state’s game managers would not want to make it too easy.
The army has forts up in Alaska. I can only guess where Paul was, but the explosions could have come from a live-fire exercise. The noise from cannons can travel for tens of miles.
Neat story!
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They discovered the info about live-fire exercises when they landed back in civilization. I can’t imagine what went through their minds during that time.
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In the fog? Well, if they did not have any way of communicating back with the mother ship, it must have been weird hearing a bunch of explosions in the middle of the wilderness.
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Imaginations ran wild in the wilderness😊
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We have a lot of miscellaneous items in the garage. I am so glad that a caribou head isn’t one of them. My husband loves to fish, so we have enough fishing equipment to stock a good sized tackle shop. But nothing for hunting live game. After two tours of Vietnam, my husband has no interest in shooting to kill anything.
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My husband served in the Air Force, but never endured war. He may have thought differently about hunting if he had. It must be so difficult to have to take another life and Vietnam was such a brutal scene. We have a friend who served as a medic in Vietnam and he still has nightmares about it.
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My husband was a Marine. He was a sniper. Twenty years old. Oh how I hate what war does to our young men and women.
Becoming a Christian is what has kept him sane.
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What a horrible position to endure at such a young age. Those guys deserve special honors. War does tremendous harm, but even then God can make them whole again. I’m glad your hubby has leaned on Him through his pain.
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