I’ve been a tad slow preparing this story as I’m still sorting through all the mixed feelings I felt after such an adventure. I definitely lacked the complete euphoria I’ve experienced after returning from other hunting trips. I truly feel like I was “cheated”. I tasted a spoonful of Artic soup when I desired the whole bowl! My expectations were high, but unfortunately they never fully panned out. I only wish things would have been as they were negotiated. Although this trip was a complete success, in terms of hunting and killing a musk ox, there’s so much more to hunting (at least for me) than killing. A superb photo, for example, can make all the difference. Sadly, I wasn’t afforded this opportunity as promised.

Here’s the picture I would paint:

It all began on September 4th, 2009 when Sean Whipple and I set off from Gering, Nebraska and Erie, Colorado respectively. After a three hour solo drive we rendezvoused in Douglas, Wyoming. From there, we made the thirty three hour drive to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada. We used the occasion to stop in Edmonton, Alberta for an afternoon/evening visit with good friends “Woody” (from Huntingresources.com) and “Youngfart” (from Huntingnet.com). Both are super internet buddies I’ve met along life’s path. And both are excellent Canadian hunters, eh? I look forward to sharing many camps in the future with these two.

Me, Woody, and Sean

We crossed the 60th parallel and set off for more of the “treeless” north.

Sean and I arrived in Yellowknife early Monday (Labor Day) morning. We were both dragging hinny from the long drive so we checked into a Super 8 Motel and wisely made up for lost sleep. Our plane ride to Holman, NWT was scheduled the following morning. It was a quick three hour flight into the Artic Circle. Naturally, anticipation was high and it seemed like First Air knew exactly why Sean and I were headed there. (Check out the animal depicted on the plane’s tail).

At Kugluktuk, a small Inuit community former known as Copper Mine and situated halfway to Holman from Yellowknife, we were given images from the past and perhaps an idea of what to expect.

Back in the day, Muskoxen were bayed with dogs and killed with bow and arrow.

We arrived at Holman (Ulakluktok as it’s known to the locals) as scheduled. We met our outfitter upon arrival...NOT! I began to sense that we were now on “island time”-despite the fact we never left the “mountain time” zone. An hour’s worth of red tape turned into day’s task. Sean and I waited patiently.

We departed for our hunt camp, some 17 miles northwest of Holman, via ATV and arrived as the sun began to set. Wow, 11:00 pm and the sun was still visible over the ocean!

I was chomping at the bit! I was so ready, in so many ways, to experience the Artic! Camp that night was cold. It seemed like 30-65mph winds were always present and the temp never climbed above zero.

We were finally here!

We turned in for the evening.

I was bright eyed and bushy tailed the following morning. I expected a camp departure at first light (maybe 5:30ish I figured). After several hundred cups of coffee and the little hand sitting on the eleven, the idea to “go hunting” finally came to fruition. I did everything possible to keep Sean from strangling someone! The idleness was killer-we had come a really long way. The last thing we wanted to do was remain confined within a canvas wall tent!

So off we went!

Inuit honey holes were forthcoming… they proved empty.

We searched long and wide. My head was pounding from the beating I was taking while riding over miles of tundra on the back of an ATV. My back, from the compression slams it took, was worse for wear. We finally sighted a group of eleven muskoxen around 3:00pm. A lone bull was spied off to the left of the first group. We decided the lone bull needed further investigation-he looked mature. Now, the real question, “were his horns intact?”

The above photo is the muskoxen under question as I rid myself of the ATV. He continued to walk to the top of the ridge in the background. I pursued.

This is him right before I unleashed an arrow from my Kanga Custom Bow (Thanks again Russ Barber for such an incredible bow!)

You are never going to believe this! My arrow bounced off the beast. I hit him slightly forward of the sweet spot from 25 yards. The 53 pound long bow had to send an arrow, equipped with a 3:1 Snuffer, 150 grain broadhead, through 12 inches of nasty wool (riddled with dirt and grim), a half inch of thick artic skin, four inches of shoulder meat, and two inches of rib bone to be effective. It made it to the ribs... The monster ran away with my arrow. I watched in disbelief! The arrow fell out after a quarter mile jog. I pursued, examined the arrow (did some of my fastest CSI work), and unslung my 74 pound PSE X-Force Super Short compound which was hanging on my back (I opted not to make a pin cushion of this wonder animal). I delivered a second blow from 30 yards. Funny thing, even this bow with its 74 pounds of draw weight only managed 13 inches of penetration! Bloody amazing these creatures...! He walked twenty yards and tipped over dead within 15 seconds.

I killed the first muskoxen I encountered. He was way too good to pass up! The image of him rubbing his

musk glands (right under his eyes) against the inside of his front legs will forever be etched in my mind. A charge was surly eminent! I was, for a moment, fat and happy!

Brother Sean had fortune smile on him as well, he arrowed another nice bull. He recalls, “These things are tough as hell. I hit him three times with my 70 pound bow and the best penetration was only nine inches.”

That evening, Sean and I enjoyed some tasty musk ox back straps…..yummy!

After the successful hunt, I COULD NOT, repeat could not, EVEN WITH BEGGING, coax the guides to take me anywhere! I was limited to the foot travel I could do around camp-a single muskox even ventured within a mile of camp. I couldn’t get to him quick enough. I so wanted to film MORE, especially wildlife...any wildlife! In the end, I photographed an artic fox which was swiping meat from around camp. Beyond Holman and the tent, my Artic experience lasted just over three hours.

Yes, it was an excellent experience; yet another dot in my game of “connect the dots”. I resorted to wishing as another sun set on a great hunting adventure (the Artic Sea).