Fall Meat Packing:
The Experience of a Lifetime in Alaska's High Country
Last fall I had the opportunity to accompany my son, Chris, and another friend of ours on a pack trip into the mountains. Chris had killed his first moose and had come down from his hunting camp to tell us the good news, and to get the horses for packing. I had always wanted to go on a horse packing trip and because I take lots of photos, I was invited along.
We started early in the morning. While Chris went to feed the horses, I made some sandwiches and packed. By eight in the morning, the men (our friend, Tony, and Chris) had the horses and mule caught and saddled, and we were ready to go. There was Tony, Chris, and myself, our mule, Red Man, and the horses. The horses were Copper, Ranger, Finn, Cosmo, and Pogo. I was the only gal in the entire outfit!
The first obstacle we encountered was a very steep hill (a mountain, really) called thirty-thirty. It was very long and extremely steep. Several times we had to stop on the way up to give the horses a rest. When we crested Thirty-Thirty we were right at tree line. The trees began to grow smaller, giving way eventually to brush and then tundra. We crossed a beautiful alpine valley where long bands of thick alders stretched from the valley floor up to the Macomb Plateau. From the rim of the plateau, the tundra and barren hills continued back for several miles, eventually yielding to huge snow capped mountains and glaciers. This was the Alaska Range, and I must confess that the beauty of this country took my breath away.
The fellas have named many of the places that we were traveling over and many of these landmarks have a story to tell. There was Little Round-Top, Forbidden Valley, Skivvy-Lake Hill, Old Flat-Top, Lookout Ridge, Berry Creek Ridge, Chrome Dome, The Saddle, Stonehouse, and Two Trees to name a few. There was also Ricks Hill, Ketos Hill, Ambush Rock, The White bucket, Orange Barrel Mill, the Meadow, and so on.
We were traveling through open country now, and a very light mist was falling. Bands of caribou dotted the Plateau and several of them approached to investigate. They pranced alongside the pack string about a hundred yards away, and then after catching our wind lost interest and went back to feeding. Caribou season was over now, which was unfortunate because caribou steaks are my favorite. The colors around me were magnificent, but already the trees and brush were losing some leaves. Acres and acres of ripe blueberries gave the tundra a purple hue in places. For miles and miles and several hours we plodded along. No hurry today! Just enjoying the experience.
Around one o clock in the afternoon, we arrived at the East Fork Hunters Camp where my husband, Richard, and my youngest son, Seth awaited us. While the men took the horses down to load up the meat, I grabbed a snack and lay down beside the stove in the wall tent. In a couple of hours, they had returned to camp with the meat and were trying to wake me up from my nap. We said our goodbyes then and mounted up, heading back over the same long trail we had already traveled. The horses were moving out a bit quicker now, realizing that they were heading for home. Red Man, Finn, and Cosmo were loaded down with moose meat, and Finn had a set of antlers tied to his pack saddle. We rode down out of the high country leaving behind another world that few people ever have the privilege of seeing.
Darkness overtook us as we descended down the steep mountain, but the sure-footed horses knew the trail home. It was well after dark when we arrived. After putting away the horses, feeding them, and hanging the moose meat, we were finished. And I do mean finished! But the experience, the memories, and the opportunity to behold Gods creation in its entire splendor are treasures that money cant buy.
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