The year was 1970. I got a call from Memphis, Tennessee. The man
identified himself as Lloyd Ward. His statement went something like
this, "I'm Lloyd Ward and I live in Memphis. Do you all hunt Polar Bear
and Brown Bear?". I told him we did. He went on to say he'd talked to
Barry Brooks, who had told him stories of his Alaska hunts. He said, "I
want to get one of those record Polar and Brown Bears". We made
arrangements for his hunt to start on April 10th for Polar
Bear, on the ice pack between Kotzebue,Alaska and the Eastern province
of Russia, then go with us in our super cub aircraft from Polar Bear
country to the Alaskan Peninsula. These areas are about a thousand
miles apart from Kotzebue, Alaska to Wildman Lake Lodge on the Alaskan
Peninsula, near Port Moller, Alaska.
Lloyd arrived in Kotzebue on
April 9, 1971. He was a big man, about 6'1", 225 pounds, with the
goldest blonde hair one can imagine. To top this off, he sported a grey
goatee beard. Needless to say, he looked completely out of place, all
dressed up - golden hair shining - everyone else walking around with
heavy down and fur parkas. Lloyd was a standout amongst the Eskimos of
the region. He was a good example of the Southern Gentleman. He had the
smoothest manner of action and speech. "Hi y'all, I'm Lloyd Ward from
Memphis". We headed for our cabin on the beach of the frozen ocean at
Kotzebue, Alaska. He surprised us once he started unpacking. Lloyd had
the best equipment. He was ready for the Arctic. He had good Eddie
Bauer down clothing plus all the outdoor and hunting gear needed, and
he was shooting a well worn pre-64 model 70 Winchester 375 H&H
magnum. We knew then that there was more to Lloyd than met the
eye. Little did we know what this relationship would develop into.
We winterized1 Lloyds rifle We also had a custom made pair of Mukluks2 and mittens made for him, plus the Eskimo lady who sewed for us attached a big Wolverine fur ruff3 to Lloyds down parka. We were about ready to go Polar Bear hunting.
Polar
Bear hunting was done with two Super Cub aircraft and is better
explained in one of my stories titled "I walked off the Arctic Ice
Pack". My flying partner at the time wasChris Anderson, who was also my
wife Beverly's step father. We headed out over the ice pack with two
Super Cubs, a client hunter in each plane.
About twenty miles off the Russian coast, near Cape Smidt area we spotted a huge track which we referred to as a scoop shovel4.
We tracked him for several minutes throughsome of the meanest, roughest
ice pack imaginable. Had we caught up with him in that area all we
could do was admire him. There was no place to land without
completelywrecking a plane.
After more than an hour of flying we
finally got out of the bad ice and had the scoop shovel tracks lined
out on a straight line and far as the eye could see. The client who's
turnit was to take the first bear today was a Louis Mussato of
Glendale, Arizona. Lloyd would take the second bear if we were lucky
and good enough to find two big males.
Another half hour and we
came upon a sight we never encountered before. There were two airplanes
setting on the ice ahead of us and the bear track stopped there. It was
a team of two other Polar Bear guides. They had already killed the bear
and were skinning it when we came upon them. They had beat us to the
scoop shovel track. He looked like a monster. They had a real trophy.
We later learned the bear was a new world record, which still stands
today.
The veteran team of Walker and Swiss were the guides who
took the Mexican hunter Shelby Longora to the bear. There are thousands
of square miles on the Arctic ice pack.We rarely encounter another team
of guides but we did that day and we missed the world record Polar
Bear. Nelson Walker has been dead a few years but his son, John
Walker,is carrying on the tradition of Arctic Guide.
John
Swiss, at this writing, is still alive. His son carried on with his
guiding business for GIANT Brown Bear on the Alaska Peninsula. Swiss
and Walker were one of the first teams to hunt the Polar Bear for
trophies. These two men were seasoned Arctic guides. They took hundreds
of successful hunters, many famous people know Swiss and Walker. This
team of Swiss and Walker were the best in the business.
After a
couple of circles we lined out to find another track and hopefully get
our bear that day. We finally came upon another great track and after
following him through several feeding areas and getting him mixed up
with other bear tracks, we got him lined out. He was hunting a female
and might and did many times go in a straight line for a hundred miles
or more. This one was no exception. We followed him over an hour in the
same general direction, Northwest, parallel to the Russian coast. If we
didn't find him in another hour he would run us low on gas. We'd have
to quit the track and head for home, which was at least three hours
East.
It's a sight that is hard to describe. You're flying along
two hundred feet high, following this bear track. You can see the track
at least a half mile out ahead of you. Then all of a sudden a Polar
Bear is walking at the end of the track. The great white magnificent
animal kingdom of this world, just walking along on the scent of a
female. Little does he realize that we've come to take his life. It's
times like this I'm not proud of my past profession. Those great bears
were not bothering anyone. They lived far away from man in their own
world - the Arctic ice pack.
The Government did the correct thing
when they closed the season on Polar Bear in 1972. However, the Eskimo
still are allowed to hunt them and many females are killed by them. The
Arctic Guide very rarely killed a female since all the client hunters
wanted a big one. Hence, we tracked only to big tracks which were
always males.
We landed the planes right on the female's track a
mile ahead of the big Bear and hid the planes behind some huge pressure
ridges. He would soon come along since he was following the female
track. There was no reason for us to move except to stay out of sight
and always downwind. He would come walking right by us.
Louis the
hunter shooting, was all ready. He had a good rest on a pressure ridge
and his rifle was ready. The big male came ambling by about
seventy-five yards distant. He didn't know what hit him when Louis shot
him through the neck with his 300 Weatherby Magnum. The bear dropped in
his tracks. He was another monster. It took us about forty-five minutes
to skin the bear. We loaded the skin in a big rubberized bag and loaded
up the planes and headed for Kotzebue about three hundred twenty five
miles distant.After arriving back in Kotzebue that evening, the Fish
& Game representative, Lee Miller, met us to take some samples from
the bear skull - a tooth to age him and some meat to test for
trichinosis and measure the skull and hide for their records. We
learned from Lee that the Swiss and Walker team's bear was a new world
record. We also learned that our bear, which Louis Missoto had taken,
was the new #2 world record. Both #1 and #2 world record bears taken
within a few hours of each other. Both of these bears stand today as
the existing #1 and #2 world record Polar Bear.
It was Lloyd's turn to shoot the next day. He was anxious to go. We
gassed up our super cubs and headed Northwest. We had twelve hours fuel
supply. We were carrying more weight inside our planes than the plane
itself weighed. We carried thirty-six gallons in our wing tanks, sixty
gallons in a belly tank and four 5 gallon cans in the baggage
compartment of the plane, a total of one hundred sixteen gallons of
fuel. This weighed in at six hundred ninety six pounds of fuel, almost
thirteen hours flying time at nine gallons an hour. In addition to the
fuel we had myself and a client at four hundred pounds and emergency
gear at ninety-five pounds. It was standard procedure to fly very
gentle and level for the first two or three hours, at which time we
landed and poured the four cans from the baggage compartment into the
wing tanks.
We finally saw the Russian coast which was about
twenty miles distant. We then started to fly parallel to the coast,
searching for a big bear track. All the time we were talkingto each
other on our radios. All of a sudden there it was - a big track - one
that we needed to follow and find the bear that was making it.
We got him sorted out and lined out. We noticed the pack ice leeds5 were working
- the ice was beginning to move. The bear track would come to a leed
six foot wide and the track on the other side of the leed would be one
hundred feet to the right or left. The pack ice was moving - NOT a good
thing! We tracked him for about an hour and a half andwe came upon him.
He was a big male. He was alone - there was no female with him nor was
there a female track around.
We decided to try for him by having
Chris land his plane downwind about a mile away, since he was following
a leed he would continue if we didn't molest him. I would stay in the
air and watch. Chris landed on a smooth spot, put the engine cover on
the plane. He and Lloyd walked out to take a stand behind a pressure
ridge. I would circle the bear.Flying high (about a thousand feet), I
noticed the bear swat the air every time I got close to him. I knew
this bear had a bad temper and might be trouble. I hoped Chris was
ready.
When the bear got about a hundred yards from Chris and
Lloyd he spotted them (Polar Bears have sharp eyes). Normally, they
will turn and run or walk away when they see people. Although Polar
Bears are accustomed to killing most things they see, such as a seal
and Walrus, they are usually afraid of man. This one wasn't. He no more
than saw Chris and Lloyd than he literally started scratching the ice,
charging at them! Lloyd, of course, started shooting. He'd knock the
bear down only to have him pop right back upon his feet and continue to
charge. By this time Lloyd had shot three times and was aiming for the
fourth shot when Chris also started opening up with his 375. Now this
bear isabout thirty yards from them and Lloyd shot his last cartridge
and missed. Chris shot and broke the front shoulder but the bear barely
slowed down. Now the bear is on them.
Why the bear stood
up I'll never know since they almost always attack on all fours. But
this bear reared up on Lloyd and when he did Lloyd stuck his rifle
sideways in hismouth and Chris wheeled around and shot the bear in the
mouth. He still didn't kill him but he lunged completely over Lloyd and
kept right on going, at which time Chris shothis last shell and killed
him.
This entire episode took place in less than one minute. I
couldn't believe my eyes. I had a birds eye view of the entire
sequence. A very close call for Lloyd. I couldn't wait to land and hear
their story. I'd seen it all but I knew there must have been some
terrible thoughts going through these guys heads.
When I landed
my plane the small, flat landing area had a crack running across it
about three hundred feet from the end. There was about one hundred feet
left of the landing area where Chris's plane was setting. I taxied over
the crack, which was a foot wide. The crack extended the entire width
of our landing area. We were on ski equipped planes.The six foot long
Ski easily taxied over the crack but I knew it might widen because the
pack was moving everywhere. I parked my plane beside Chris's and walked
over to the guys. They were both still shaking and shook up. They were
simply sitting on an ice chunk, silently thinking.
Chris said,
"The Bear didn't slow down and was on us by the time we could each
shoot three times. Lloyd was out of shells. I had two left when he
attacked us. It was so close I had to shoot from the waist. I didn't
aim - it was just an automatic reflex. It hit him in the teeth. I saw
some teeth fly out. When he bowled Lloyd over I got my last shot in as
he went by. It was the killing shot".
We always do an autopsy
if we have time. When we did I found one bullet had struck his foot,
one low through the front shoulder, two in the belly area, one
went sideways through the bears mouth, one bullet through the chest and
heart. They had shot eight times. They obviously missed twice.
We
skinned him out and drug the skin back to the airplane.. When we got
back to the plane I walked over and looked at the crack in our landing
area. It had widened to about two feet wide. I told Chris that we
better shag our ass and get the hell outta here. That leed is getting
wider and we don't want to get stuck on the short side of that crack.
After
we loaded the bear hide I jumped in my plane and gunned the hell out of
that cub so I could jump the crack and not let a ski fall into it. I
got airborne and looked down.Chris was meticulously folding his engine
cover. I was pulling my hair out. When I went across the leed it was at
least three fee wide and it looked wider now. Chris finally got
started. He gunned it up and started sliding down the ice pack towards
the leed. His speed was not fast enough to be light. He hit the crack
at about thirty mph. Both skis fell into the crack. They stayed there.
The plane continued along on it's belly. At least he was across on the
long side of the crack.I landed again and we inspected his plane.
Both gear legs were torn off. The prop was bent, the carb air box was
broken. Otherwise the plane wasn't damaged. If we had the parts we
could have it running and flying in a couple hours. But we didn't have
any parts. We carried one reversible gear leg with us but we needed
two. We had no choice - leave the plane and everyone go home in my
plane. Of course, the first thing that had to go was the bear hide,
which weighed about two hundred pounds. The four of us piled into my
cub and headed for Kotzebue, Alaska, about three hundred miles away. It
hadn't been a good day. Lloyd lost his bear skin, Chris lost his
airplane, I'm trying to make home with four people and sixty gallons of
gas in a crowded beyond description Super Cub.
We arrived back in
Kotzebue with heavy hearts. But that's the life of an Alaskan Guide.
There are many hazard filled times. The elements of the Arctic are very
unforgiving. The moving ice we had seen meant the wind was
blowing hard father North and a storm was near.
The next morning and the next four days we were grounded with extreme
winds, blowing snow with visibility of less than one mile. The airlines
weren't even flying. It was bad, bad, bad. The 5th
day Chris and I loaded my Super Cub with two landing gear, a carburetor
air box and propeller and started out to find Chris's plane. We had
left an ELT6 in it under the cowling along with a
thermax heater. All this was wrapped with the engine cover but we knew
the ELT was only good for about twenty-four to forty hours in above
freezing temperatures and the thermax heater was only good for sixteen
to eighteen hours. It was twenty below zero today. We didn't have much
hope of the ELT guiding me to Chris's plane.
We ran a grid search the
best I could without any guidance, except the low frequency beacon at
Kotzebue and the medium frequency beacon at Kamen, Russia. I searched
for ten hours a day for three days without a sight of Chris's cub. We
were beginning to believe the ice had broken so badly it crushed the
plane and went into the ocean. The entire ocean was a mass of broken
ice, open leeds and huge pressure ridges. We gave up when the next
storm arrived making it impossible to fly.
Chris had lost his
plane. Lloyd had lost his bear hide and since he had tagged the skin as the
law required. Lloyd no longer had a bear tag. If we took him out again
and he got a bear it wouldn't be tagged and it would be illegal. In the
meantime, Chris left for Anchorage to buy another cub and return later
in the week.
I had some time to wait for Chris so I took Lloyd
and went to Little Diomede Island. This is the home of some famous
ivory carvers. I had been asked by Charlie Impana of Kotzebue to bring
him back some walrus ivory tusks. Charlie sold some of his ivory
carvings to our clients. Charlie asked me to buy the tusks from his
brother and he would pay us back with finished carvings. We spent an
enjoyable day with the people of Diomede. The village sits on a steep
cliff overlooking the Bearing Sea. It's on Little Diomede Island, three
miles away is Big Diomede Island, which is Russian Territory. These
people lived very primitive in the past and even in the seventies they
lacked most things we took for granted.
I got ten big walrus tusks
from Charlie's brother on Diomede Island. These I flew back to Kotzebue
for Charlie. I gave Charlie four of the tusks and kept six for security
since he owed me for all ten. I was only handling the deal for Charlie.
I didn't want to buy and sell raw ivory since it's against the law for
a non coastal native to deal in raw ivory. It was a shaky deal at best
but Charlie promised he would state we were only transporting the raw
tusks for him. I had several hundred dollars out of pocket and all I
wanted was to get my money back for bringing in the tusks to him. As
usual, Charlie didn't have the money to pay me and we would be leaving
Kotzebue as soon as Chris got back with a new plane and we could then
take Lloyd out for another bear. So I held on to six of the tusks for
security.
Chris got back with his plane. We took Lloyd hunting.
He got a big bear which we kept out of sight. We hid it in a snow bank,
out of town about ten miles. It was going to be aproblem until I got
the skin to Anchorage at which time I'd have someone else claim it. A
resident could take a Bear every year if he wanted. A guide could not
claim a Bear. All Bear hides had to be tagged and sealed by the Game
Department before they could be exported from Alaska.
It came
time to leave Kotzebue. I still had those six walrus tusks since
Charlie hadn't paid me. I was holding them for security for the
$1,000.00 that I'd paid his brother for ten tusks. I knew it was risky
to hold them even for security so I just took all six of them over to
Marge Baker and told her to hold them and if I called her later, she
was to give them to Charlie. Marge Baker was qualified to have them. She
was an Alaska Eskimo. We packed up, loaded our cubs up, piled Lloyd in
on top of everything and headed to Anchorage, six hundred fifty miles
South, stopping to pick up Lloyd's bear that we'd hidden in a snow
drift, on the way out of Kotzebue.
We were then going to the
Alaska Peninsula to hunt Brown Bear. Lloyd would be our first hunter.
We'd flown about half way to Anchorage when the weather got bad.
It looked like rainy pass would be closed so at Galena we turned East
and headed up the Yukon River. We would follow the Yukon River East to
the Tanana River into Fairbanks for gas, then on South to Anchorage
through Windy Pass. This route would keep us out of the high areas of
the notoriously nasty Rainy Pass in the Alaska Range.
We were scud running7
all the way from Galena to Fairbanks. It's the Alaska Bush Pilot
definition of IFR but instead of Instrument Flight Rules, it's I Follow
Rivers. We finally crawled into Fairbanks only to face another crisis.
We no more than touched down on the airport when two state trooper cars
pulled alongside our taxing Super Cubs. I thought, holy shit, these guys
are going to nail us for Lloyd's bear that was behind the regular
baggage compartment in the fuselage of our planes. I noticed the
district director of Alaska Fish & Wildlife protection was riding in
the front seat of the State Troopers car. I knew Don real well and for
the benefit of further embarrassment we'll just call him Don.
We
stopped the planes. Don got out and came over with the State Trooper,
who said, "Just stay where you are. Don't take anything out of that
plane. Get out one at a time and don't touch anything". Hell, I knew we
were dead ducks. I asked Don, "What's going on?". He replied, "Ron, we
know you've got six pair of walrus tusks in that plane. We're going to
search it". Don had gotten a call from his agent in Kotzebue that we'd
left town and had taken six raw ivory tusks that belonged to Charlie
Ipana. I guess they had an all points bulletin out for us. We weren't
even scheduled to go through Fairbanks.
The thought running
through my mind was, he's going to find that Bear skin. I knew he
wouldn't find any walrus tusks because knowing full well it would be
real trouble for me to get caught with raw ivory, me being a white man
and not an Alaskan Native from the Northern Coast of Alaska. I said to
Don, "Listen, Don, I can save you a lot of trouble. I haven't got those
walrus tusks. I left them with Marge Baker in Kotzebue. We can go over
to the terminal building where we can call your agent in Kotzebue. He
can go over to Marge's house and get the tusks and I'll be out
$1,000.00. But if Charlie reported me for having the tusks, he's wrong.
I left them with Marge. I know better than to deal in raw ivory."
I
convinced Don to call. He left the troopers at the plane with
instructions that nothing could be removed from the planes. But he did
allow Lloyd to get out and stretch his legs but nothing was to be
touched or removed. Don and I walked to the terminal. He called the
agent in Kotzebue and gave him instructions to go to Marge's house and
recover the tusks, if they were in fact there and report back
immediately. We sat and had some coffee and a snack and had a nice
visit. We had a lot in common although on opposite sides. About thirty
minutes later the agent called back and said he had six large walrus
tusks and that Charlie Ipana was claiming them as his. Don told him to
give Charlie the tusks since he was the one who complained to the
Kotzebue agent that I'd stolen the tusks from him.
Don had worked for the old Fish and Game Department. Our relationship
went back several years. Although we were well acquainted he followed
the rule of law and would have busted me given any opportunity. Don had
worked the field many times and was thoroughly familiar with all
aspects of hunting. He knew all about the sneaky methods some of us
guides used, all for the want of the dollar. If you pull one over on
him you had be thankful, not much got by him. He was a likeable guy and
under other circumstances could have been a best friend. He was now a
district director in the new Department of Public Safety, Division of
Fish and Wildlife. As we ambled back towards my plane I was still
really apprehensive about that damn Bear skin of Lloyd's in the back
fuselage.
We
had changed the plane from skis to big tundra tires before leaving
Kotzebue. Don had one foot up on the tire, standing there three feet
from our illegal Bear hide, watching the blood drip out of the belly of
my plane. He said, "Looks like that blood from all those Bear hides you
hauled off the ice pack are finally melting (all season any blood that
escapes from the bear bags freeze into ice in the aircraft belly. It
stays frozen the entire three month season spent hunting Polar Bear.
After leaving the Arctic and getting into warmer weather at Fairbanks,
the ice blood melted and drained out the fuselage). Don was seeing this
blood drip but what he didn't know was there was a fresh, illegal
Bearhide in there also leaking blood. I said, "Yeah, it's finally
thawing out". Boy, he had us cold turkey and we slipped right through
his fingers. That was the second time Don almost had me. I gassed up,
got in my plane and headed to Anchorage.
I turned the skin over to the local rep of a famous Seattle taxidermy.
When
we arrived in Anchorage Lloyd was meeting his wife, Shirley. They were
spending a couple days together while we made preparations to go to our
Brown Bear camp at Wildman Lake on the Alaskan Peninsula, about four
hundred seventy five miles Southwest of Anchorage. I'd built this small
lodge in 1960. It was all flown in with my SuperCub, a slow and costly
project. However, the area around Wildman Lake has the best Brown Bear
population of any area in Alaska. Even today, the Fish and Game stated
in an article in the Anchorage Daily News that there more Bear per
square mile in the Chignik, Black Lake area than anywhere else in
Alaska. Wildman Lake is in that area.
Wildman Lake Lodge
started as a twelve by twelve cabin, increasing in size to twelve by
forty-four, then a couple years later a twenty by twenty-four room was
added. Every stick flown in by myself on a super cub aircraft from Port
Moller, Alaska, a salmon cannery that belonged to Peter Pan Seafood.
Population: three in the winter and over one hundred in the summer.
Port Moller was forty miles distant from Wildman Lake Lodge. It was
near Port Moller that the Douglas Aircraft World Cruiser, piloted by
Major Frederick Martin, went down with his crew on the around the
world flight in 19248. I've been to the wreck and have
killed a monster Brown Bear very near by. The wreck, what's left of it,
sits in the Aviation Museum in Anchorage, Alaska. If you go to see it,
notice the crankshaft has hack saw marks on it where a friend of mine
tried to get the prop for a souvenir but after breaking three hacksaw
blades, gave up. That would of been in the late 50's.
We had made
all our plans and were going to leave Anchorage the next day. Meantime,
Shirley, Lloyd's wife, had arrived the day before. Lloyd and she were
shopping and partying in Anchorage. Shirley was a platinum blonde, very
beautiful. She struck me as pretty much a party girl. Lloyd said she
used to be a Ziegfried Follies girl dancing in Chicago. Lloyd and
Shirley had invited my guide Jeff Graham and myself down to the
Westward Hotel for dinner and drinks. We showed up about 7:30. Lloyd
and Shirley were well on their way. It was obvious they were both
feeling no pain. We had a fine dinner, after which those two started
some serious drinking. In a period of a couple hours I went from hunting
guide to referee as Lloyd and Shirley started getting rowdy.
Lloyd
and Shirley wanted to go drinking where we hung out. We went from the
upper class atmosphere of the Westward to a guide hangout on fourth
avenue. The Montana Club was a low class bar where one could find
anything. The place was always packed - guides, outfitters, commercial
fishermen - bums and lots of Native Alaskans from remote villages. I
knew most of them. Lloyd and Shirley stuck out like a sore thumb among
all us rowdy people. They were slumming big time. Shirley was basking
in all the attention, seems like every Eskimo in the place was ganged
around our table.
I finally got them out of the bar and up to
their room in the Westward on the tenth floor, where they continued to
drink and get wilder. Shirley was getting looser and Lloyd was getting
more argumentative. Lloyd was very drunk. Shirley was on the prowl, a
real problem for me, especially since some of her advances were
directed my way. Shirley finally completely went off the deep end and
started tearing off clothing. She was down to her panties when she
decided to go downstairs. Lloyd was saying, "Hell, let her go. She'll be
back". And out the door she went. She ran down the hall and jumped into
the elevator. Lloyd's out in the hall screaming at her. I'm standing
there with my mouthopen.
Shirley goes to the lobby and runs out.
A Bellman runs up and throws an overcoat on her, saying, "Madame,
please madame!". I came up on the scene at that time and told
the bellman where their room was. He's trying his best to control
Shirley and she's saying, "Go AWAY!". The bellman took Shirley back to
her room. Lloyd's in the hall cussing him for bringing her back. The
house security shows up. Lloyd hollers at him. Shirley's trying to
undress. I'm still staring open mouthed. The security guy calls the
cops. The police appear and take them both away.
At the station,
Lloyd says, "I want to call my attorney". The police allow him to make
a call and he calls Senator Fullbright of Arkansas, the chairman of the
Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Senator Fullbright asked the police
to speak with the Chief of Police, after which the police brought Lloyd
and Shirley back to the hotel. Their parting comment, "Have a nice stay
in Alaska". Lloyd mumbled, "I am". Shirley finally went into her room -
we left and went home. One hell of an evening. Looking forward
togetting out of town and going to Wildman Lake.
The spring Bear season ran from May 7 to May 25th in Unit 9 of the Alaska Peninsula. We were going down a little early. If Lloyd happened to take a Bear before May 7th we'd salt it down and hide it until season opened.
This
was Fish and Wildlife Protection agent Wayne Fleek's country and one
couldn't be too careful. Wayne would arrest his own mother for any
infraction of the law. When Wayne wasn't around, it was Joe Brantley and
he was even more dangerous than Wayne. Which reminds me of a story
about Wayne back in 1969 or '70. I and Jeff Graham, my guide, crawled
into a Wolf den at Sandy Lake. We had been seeing this female Wolf
going to this little knob in a brush pile and figured she had a den
there, so one day in June after all the Bear hunters went home Jeff and
I decided to go over and investigate.
Sure enough, there was a den. The female was off howling about two
hundred yards away. We got a shovel and started digging holes down to
meet the tunnel. After about thethird hole we located the pups. There
were eight of them, their eyes were still closed. I had only the month
before been talking to Bob Roush of the Arctic Health Research lab.He
told me if I ever ran into some wolf pups they wanted them badly. They
wanted to raise the pups to adulthood and study them throughout their
life span. I told Jeff weshould try and keep them and take them to Bob
at the lab on Post Road in Anchorage. We had lots of Caribou meat at
the lodge so we sacked six of them up and took themback to the lodge,
leaving two in the den. It was no more than thirty minutes after we
left the Den, watching through a spotting scope, we watched the female
come back to the den and take each pup and move them toanother den she
had more than half a mile away.
We got the pups to the lodge and
started to feed them chunks of caribou meat. The pups growled and
fought over the meat and if you left your hand before their face they
wouldtry and eat your fingers. They didn't identify the difference
between human fingers to eat and caribou meat.
One of the pups I
took a special liking to. I didn't want to give it up to the lab. I
knew I was asking for trouble keeping it but the little female took to
me and came to me whenthe others shied away. I lived with the little
wolf. She was constantly at my side. I remember one time visiting and
staying a couple days with a girlfriend who lived in anapartment in
Fairbanks. I kept my wolf leashed to the bed at night. Needless to say
the girl didn't think much of that wolf.
As the wolf grew older
the word got out that Hayes had a wild, tamed wolf (which was illegal).
Every time I landed my plane in King Salmon I had to hide wolf out in
thenearby brush. On several occasions I heard and seen Wayne Fleek
looking for the wolf. He never did find her. When I leashed her out in
the brush near where I parked my planeeither on floats or wheels the
wolf never made a sound, even if someone walked within a few feet of
her. As she grew older she became very protective and would not
allowanyone but me to touch her. She was very shy and would try to hide
rather than be aggressive unless someone tried to handle her. Then she
would snarl and bite.
I kept Wolf for over a year. She was a good
friend and companion. Wayne tried his best to catch me in possession
with Wolf but he never did. I saw him one time snoopingaround my parked
super cub on floats on the Naknek River at King Salmon. He looked all
around and even beat the bushes near the plane. He was within five feet
of Wolf oncebut he never found her.
I intended to use Wolf in a
new film I was planning to make. She was trained the best I knew how
and would obey my commands. Several times I lost her temporarily, one
timefor two days up on the Yukon River. But she always turned up if I
stayed and didn't run off and leave her. After Wayne had chased us
around for more than a year withoutsuccess he finally won. It was while
I was gone on a safari to Africa, filming part of a picture I'd made
for American National Enterprises. The film was to be about
huntingaround the world in Alaska, Africa and India. It was a great hit
when we released it in 1970. The name was "World Safari". While I was
in Africa filming I'd left Wolf in thecare of a friend in Eagle River,
Alaska.
Somehow Wayne found out and sent or went himself and
got the Wolf. They destroyed her. My friend, Tiny, said they shot her.
I've never forgiven Fleek for that. I'll alwaysremember him for killing
my friend Wolf. We were heading into Wayne's country, the Alaska
Peninsula. He was stationed at King Salmon, Alaska, which was about
half wayto Wildman Lake, where Lloyd, my guide Jeff and myself were
going. We would no doubt be seeing Wayne in the next few days.
Lloyd
shot a very large boar Brown Bear in the west fork of the Chignik
River. The hide was so heavy and bulky even Jeff, a mountain of a man,
had trouble packing it back towhere I could land the plane and pick it
up. This alder patches were drifted with heavy spring snow making
walking impossible. Only on snow shoes could one negotiate thearea. It
took us a half day to walk and stalk and shoot the big boar Bear. He
was cruising the high country, going from den to den, trying to sniff
out females with cubs, afavorite habit of these big males when they
first come out of hibernation. They travel, trying to find another
smaller Bear den, especially females with cubs. They kill and eatthe
cubs after fighting off the female. If she stays and tries to defend
herself she, too, will be killed and eaten. Only the truly big old
trophy males do this.
Lloyd had jumped the season a couple days,
which meant we had to be careful and not let Brantly or Fleek catch us
with a bear hide. We would take the hide back to WildmanLake camp,
flesh it, salt it down and hide it in a vault we had dug out and boxed
in under the bedroom floor of the lodge. We sometimes had three of four
Bear in the vault,waiting for the season to open so we could tag and
have them sealed by Fish and Game.
One time a couple years
previously I had let a couple of hunters from Chicago kill a Bear
early. I had them in the vault. I was busy building some bunk beds in
the bedroomwhen this Super Cub landed out in the yard at Wildman Lodge.
At the time I only had the Kitchen and small bedroom. I was just
putting the finishing touches on the bunk bedswhen in walked Don, the
same guy who had confronted me in Fairbanks about the walrus tusks. We
stood there and visited awhile. I told him the clients had come in and
werejust waiting for season to open. After visiting awhile we went on
into the kitchen and sat. I wanted him to get away from the trap door
he was standing on in the bedroom.There was two bear hides in it and he
was standing right on top of them.
That was the first time Don
let us slip through his fingers. This story may be the first time Don
will be aware of how close he came to nailing me. I'm sure some of his
othergame warden friends will read this and let him know. I've gotten
some negative feedback from one of my other stories but I am only
telling it like it was. If the shoe fits, it'syours.
Lloyd went
home after getting two big bears with us. I didn't see him again until
the next spring when he booked a walrus hunt with me. I was going to
fly to Nunivak Islandand team up with Ed Shavings, an Arctic guide who
conducts walrus and musk ox hunts out of Mekoyuk on Nunivak Island. I
flew over to Nunivak Island early and madepreparations for Lloyds
arrival. We would be hunting walrus on the open ocean amongst scattered
ice floes where pods of Walrus might haul up to rest after feeding on
clamsand mussels.
Lloyd said he was going to bring Shirley. I
expected trouble. Lloyd charted an airplane to fly him to Nunivak from
Bethel, Alaska. I was there to meet the plane along with halfthe
village of Mekoyuk. Lloyd and Shirley stepped off that plane and every
man present jaws dropped as Shirley stepped down in the cold, drizzling
mist of Nunivak Island,wearing a pair of white hot pants and half knee
length black leather boots. These guys couldn't believe their eyes. I
wouldn't have either except I knew Shirley and nothing shedid surprised
me. I wish many times that I had taken a picture that day. All those
Eskimos crowded around very white, platinum blonde Shirley.
Surprisingly enough Shirley got on well while Lloyd and I were out on
the ice hunting walrus. Hunting these walrus is a very dangerous game.
It's not that the walrus is dangerous - it's the ocean with about fifty
percent covered with ice floes using only a small sixteen foot boat
with an outboard motor to cruise amongst the floes. Sometimes one finds
himself on the open ocean with no ice in site. If the wind comes up it
could swamp these small boats. As long as one cruises amongst the ice
floes the ocean remains quite calm.
Walrus
feed on the bottom using their whiskers to find mussels and clams which
they suck out of the shell. After they feed to their fill an entire pod
may haul up on an ice floe who's size could be from as small as a
football field to as large as a mile across. There could be as many as
two hundred walrus or typically twenty to thirty animals. The hunter is
looking for the trophy determined by tusk size - thirty-two inches long
is a good one. Males are chosen since another trophy is the penis bone,
called an Oosik, which is abone eighteen to twenty inches long and one
to one and a half inches in diameter. Many clients who are displaying
their trophies in a museum setting want the entire hide,which weighs in
at four to six hundred pounds skinned rough. A big male walrus weights
thirty-eight hundred to forty-five hundred pounds.
Lloyd only
wanted a head mount which meant we would cape the walrus taking only
the tusks and skull and hide down to the front flippers. We came upon a
good pod of about a hundred walrus. We crawled around on the floe and
got in position to make the brain shot. If the walrus is only wounded
he will immediately go into the water and possibly sink. It was
imperative we get into a position to make a brain shot. One can crawl
very close amongst the walrus without spooking them but if they do
spook the entire pod will bolt for the water and possibly running over
us, throwing us in the water. We move very slow. When the biggest one
is located we prepare for the brain shot.
Lloyd is an expert shot
and the walrus simply dropped his head after Lloyd shot. It was a
perfect brain shot. Now the work begins. First we open up the stomach.
An Eskimo custom is to get the fresh clams and mussels if the walrus
have just recently eaten. These clams are dipped in the ocean and
popped into the mouth and eaten again by theEskimo and if the hunter
client and his guide don't do likewise you will loose the Eskimo's
respect. Next we cut out the liver. Walrus liver is one of the most
delicious and mild tasting morsels I have ever eaten. It has a very mild
liver taste and the texture is somewhat like well prepared abalone. It
reminds me and tastes somewhat like the big red abalone of Northern
California.
We take some meat but much is wasted and simply
pushed into the ocean, a shameful waste for the profit of the guide and
the Eskimo who assists just for the pleasure of the hunters getting a
trophy. The walrus cannot be hunted as a trophy any longer however some
are still shot for the tusks and Oosik. The Eskimo of the arctic
continues to hunt them under the subsistence rule.
After the Walrus hunt Lloyd and Shirley chartered a plane and left. I flew back to Anchorage.
The
next time I saw Lloyd and Shirley was at the Century Plaza Hotel in Los
Angeles, California. For years, Roy Weatherby, the famous magnum rifle
maker who invented the 300 Weatherby rifle, held an annual Weatherby
Awards banquet and awards affair. This black tie RSVP affair guest list
reads like a who's who of the hunting and sporting world. You're a
nobody if you don't get invited to a Weatherby Awards dinner. I have
posted on this site the 1972 invitation guest list. This tells a better
story about this event than I can.
Naturally, Lloyd and Shirley
were invited. Most famous guides and hunters of the world attend. There
were three governors at this particular affair. There were
astronauts, Generals, Heads of State and Country, including the Prince
of Iran. It was a grand affair - I had a wonderful time. This was my
third one. After dinner we were invited up to Lloyd and Shirley's suite
to have a drink.
Upon reaching the suite we noticed they were
both feeling no pain. After we were there about a half hour Shirley
came running out of the bedroom yelling to Lloyd some of her jewelry was
missing. Lloyd just mumbled, "call the police". Which Shirley did. The
house security came up and wanted to know what was missing. It seems
there was a four or five carat ring and another necklace of several
carats - Lloyd said about $75,000.00.
I was shaking my head as
Lloyd was telling the security people how much the jewelry was worth
and adding that if the police didn't send over Sam Spade he didn't want
anyone. The man wasn't making any sense. Shirley was crying and Lloyd
is demanding they get Sam Spade. I didn't have a clue what he was
talking about except maybe Lloyd had been taking those TV programs too
seriously. The security people were beyond themselves but I wasn't
surprised at all after all the past experiences I'd had with Lloyd
and Shirley.
I saw them the next day. They didn't remember much
about the entire episode. I never did find out if they actually lost
any jewelry or whether Shirley just misplaced it temporarily. It was a
few years later that I heard Lloyd finally went through most of his
inheritance from one of the large cotton gins his father had left him
in Memphis. He and Shirley moved to Cody, Wyoming and started living an
almost normal life in a modest home. He and Shirley lived in Cody for
several years. I lost touch with him since he no longer hired guides or
went on expensive hunts.
Lloyd died in
the 80's, I'm not sure when. I heard Shirley was a waitress in a
restaurant in Cody. They certainly had the good life for several years.
There wasn't much they hadn't done. That's the Lloyd Ward story - one of
the over 2,000 hunter clients I had in my thirty year hunting career.
1
In the extreme cold of the Arctic - twenty to forty below zero -
regular oil will harden and cause the firing pin on a rifle to stick
and not fall hard enough against the primer ofthe cartridge. The
cartridge will not fire.
2 Mukluks are a custom boot
made by the Eskimo. They are constructed from seal skin and caribou
skin. Caribou skin insoles are used. Caribou hair is hollow and has
good insulating qualities.
3 The wolverine fur does
not collect moisture and freeze the hairs as bad as some other fur. The
ruff is necessary to keep ones face from being frostbitten.
4
All Arctic guides referred to a monster bear track as a scoop shovel,
similar to what size of mark one would make if you slapped a big snow
scoop shovel down in the snow.Every guide's dream was to find a scoop
shovel track.
5 A leed is a crack in the ice pack
caused by high winds and tide currents. These leeds can be anywhere
from a one inch crack to several miles wide. They are more
prevalent when an Arctic storm is brewing, creating high winds. A storm
can be five hundred miles away, and still cause the entire ice pack to
move and crack.
6 ELT - Emergency Location
Transmitter - transmits a signal on frequency 121.5 which the air
rescue can home in on. We could also home in on the signal and do the
build and fade method to pinpoint the location. This is all before
satellite or GPS.
7 Scud running: Many Alaskan pilots
who are experienced know their area like the back of their hand. These
guys will fly one hundred foot off the ground going through mountain
passes or they might be following a river or shoreline of the ocean or
large lake. This requires instant decision making and knowledge of
what's ahead. Never leaving your ace in the hole escape. Instrument
flying in and over mountainous terrain in Alaska is pure suicide, especially in a
light Super Cub without icing equipment, dual electrical and vacuum
instruments and with no place to let down or make an approach.
8
In 1924 the Navy sponsored and arranged to make a flight around the
world by four aircraft built by Douglas and called World Cruisers. You
can read the complete story in abook named Around the World in 175 Days
- The First Round-the-World Flight. There's also a website with the
chronicles of this epic flight
at http://www.wpafb.af.mil/museum/history/dwc/dwcd1.htm.
During my many years of guiding and bush flying, I have done several things: I provided mountain climbers with transportation up high on the glaciers, mostly on Mt. Logan in Canada, working out of Burwash, Yukon Territory, in the early '60's.