dcott100
Member
- Messages
- 15
Well, it finally happened. Alaska drop hunt for caribou.
When I was going to college for an engineering degree I came home one weekend after my first round of finals freshman year and told my dad I was done and college wasn't for me. He said, "I understand son, I can't make you get that degree, but if you do I'll take you on any trip within reason that you want to do. I'll find a way to make it happen." I decided I would call his bluff and I picked an Aslaka drop hunt for caribou, figuring I would never actually get the degree or that we couldn't make that kind of trip a reality. In the end my pops ended up talking me off the ledge that night and I went back to school. We never really talked about the "deal" we struck again.
Then during my senior year the worst imaginable thing happened. My dad suffered a widow maker heart attack at the age of 44. I was immediately reduced to shell of a person. My dad was my absolute best friend, hunting partner, and biggest supporter. He was and still is my greatest hero. After the fallout, I ended up sticking it out and made it through the engineering program. That was over 9 years ago.
Life did what life does and time marched forward. I started my career, married my high-school sweetheart, bought a fixer-upper hay farm, and had two beautiful daughters of my own. One day a couple winters ago I was going through a box of junk and found an old laptop. I fired it up to see if there was anything important on it before it was discarded. When it opened I started looking at old emails from an account I had long since abandoned. My heart skipped a beat when I found an unread email from my dad written shortly before he had passed. He had written me an encouraging note heading into finals week first semester of senior year. It also included a preliminary itinerary and hunt details for doing an AK caribou self guided hunt. He never forgot our "deal".
Anyone who has experienced that kind of loss knows that even though the years add layers of skin on top, that hurt is never very far away. After collecting myself I decided I was going to make that trip a reality. I had no idea how I was going to get it done, but I knew that I would have to find a way without the man who taught me everything. So I started planning, saving, and doing research. I was fortunate enough talk two of my best friends and current hunting partners to commit to going with me. A plan was born.
After a couple years of planning, saving, and restless nights, we were finally headed to the last frontier. My pack was complete with a small amount of dad's ashes for the adventure.
We hit the migration beautifully, had favorable weather, and all three of us harvested respectable bulls. After the last kill, we hiked to the top of the nearest peak and set my dad's ashes to the Alaskan wind. I will never forget watching the ash hang in the air and climb on a thermal. It was an immediate feeling of closure in some small way.
It didn't happen how I thought, but I still got to go on a dream hunt with my dad.
A special thanks to my hunting partners. You guys are bad assess. And of course my wife for supporting my dreams and keeping everything afloat while I was gone for 12 days.
When I was going to college for an engineering degree I came home one weekend after my first round of finals freshman year and told my dad I was done and college wasn't for me. He said, "I understand son, I can't make you get that degree, but if you do I'll take you on any trip within reason that you want to do. I'll find a way to make it happen." I decided I would call his bluff and I picked an Aslaka drop hunt for caribou, figuring I would never actually get the degree or that we couldn't make that kind of trip a reality. In the end my pops ended up talking me off the ledge that night and I went back to school. We never really talked about the "deal" we struck again.
Then during my senior year the worst imaginable thing happened. My dad suffered a widow maker heart attack at the age of 44. I was immediately reduced to shell of a person. My dad was my absolute best friend, hunting partner, and biggest supporter. He was and still is my greatest hero. After the fallout, I ended up sticking it out and made it through the engineering program. That was over 9 years ago.
Life did what life does and time marched forward. I started my career, married my high-school sweetheart, bought a fixer-upper hay farm, and had two beautiful daughters of my own. One day a couple winters ago I was going through a box of junk and found an old laptop. I fired it up to see if there was anything important on it before it was discarded. When it opened I started looking at old emails from an account I had long since abandoned. My heart skipped a beat when I found an unread email from my dad written shortly before he had passed. He had written me an encouraging note heading into finals week first semester of senior year. It also included a preliminary itinerary and hunt details for doing an AK caribou self guided hunt. He never forgot our "deal".
Anyone who has experienced that kind of loss knows that even though the years add layers of skin on top, that hurt is never very far away. After collecting myself I decided I was going to make that trip a reality. I had no idea how I was going to get it done, but I knew that I would have to find a way without the man who taught me everything. So I started planning, saving, and doing research. I was fortunate enough talk two of my best friends and current hunting partners to commit to going with me. A plan was born.
After a couple years of planning, saving, and restless nights, we were finally headed to the last frontier. My pack was complete with a small amount of dad's ashes for the adventure.
We hit the migration beautifully, had favorable weather, and all three of us harvested respectable bulls. After the last kill, we hiked to the top of the nearest peak and set my dad's ashes to the Alaskan wind. I will never forget watching the ash hang in the air and climb on a thermal. It was an immediate feeling of closure in some small way.
It didn't happen how I thought, but I still got to go on a dream hunt with my dad.
A special thanks to my hunting partners. You guys are bad assess. And of course my wife for supporting my dreams and keeping everything afloat while I was gone for 12 days.
