Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/728154
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S • 187 most beautiful Alaska valley I've ever seen. When we landed I asked where we were. His answer chilled right to the bone. Described in vivid detail in Eddy's book, it was the very place I first read about as a boy and had dreamed of hunting ever since. "This is a fantastic spot," Dave continued. "One of my hunters took a boar that squared over ten feet right there," he said, pointing to a patch of alders not 400 yards away. "Another shot a ten-six in almost the same spot. Be patient, and it'll happen. This valley is always full of bears." We quickly unloaded and piled a mound of gear at the side of the strip. Dave hurriedly climbed back into his plane, then motioned me over. Rather than wishing good luck, he took my hand in his and softly said "For George." Then he was gone. Todd and I shuttled gear, spread the tents in a low spot that promised some protection from the winds and then staked them down with enough line to anchor a circus big top. Once everything was sorted we took on a quick dinner, then hurried to Dave's recommended overlook and began glassing, knowing full well that Alaska's same-day airborne law meant I couldn't put my rifle to work. It wasn't long before we were looking at a giant. The nearly black boar must have been lying in one of the many wrinkles in the valley floor, as he simply appeared where moments before there was nothing. "That's a good one," Todd hissed, "the kind we've come here to hunt." Swinging his great head from side to side as if deciding which way to go, the bear eventually began to work across the valley. His hind legs first swung out and then around his great belly in the awkward sore-footed stride of the largest boars. In the spotting scope he looked short-legged and small-headed. His thick fur ran riot, shooting arrows from the sun's reflection and rippling in the evening breeze. "I wish George was here," I whispered, as much to myself as to Todd. "He's never seen anything like this place, or that bear, and this moment would have made his entire trip worthwhile." We watched the bear for a long time as he crossed the valley, climbed a mountain, and then disappeared. I wondered if we might see him again another day and how many times Eddy had watched and then wished called George. We went over everything two or three times until nothing was left to discuss. Then we flat argued about it, me thinking some pressure might prompt him to give it a try. His mind was made up. "Dwight, I figure someone ought to go who has a chance of remembering the hunt for a long time. It wouldn't be right for me to shoot a bear and then maybe not be around when it comes in from the taxidermist. I know you and understand how much you'll enjoy the trip. Please, let me do this in appreciation for all you and your family have done for me." Choking on emotion, I mumbled something of a preliminary thanks, accepted, and then called Dave back to set things in motion. I held on to a faint hope that George would step back in, right up to the morning I drove to the airport. D ave Leonard's outfit, Mountain Monarchs of Alaska, hunts the Izembek National Wildlife Refuge, possibly the best big bear country in the state. It is a wild land, little changed since John Eddy explored it in the early days of the Great Depression and then chronicled it in his book, Hunting the Alaska Brown Bear. Eddy wrote well of it, with vivid descriptions of magnificent valleys crowned by spectacular peaks and of the "Big Brown Bear" that broke out of their dens and lumbered across vast snowfields. Basing from the David River Bear Camp, established by Dick Gunlogson in 1971 hard on the Bering Sea shore, Dave shuttles hunters to spike camps that have proven themselves time and again. Once there, hunters anchor tents against the tremendous winds and then glass pristine valleys and huge mountains, hoping to catch a glimpse of a big boar lumbering in their direction. As it was, hunters were weathered in at base camp for two days, and when the sky finally cleared, Dave frantically began flying everyone out on what should have been their first hunting day. I pulled Dave aside between shuttles and told him to get all the other hunters and their guides out first. "Take care of everyone else," I remember saying. "George is here with us in spirit, and I have a feeling that everything is going to work out accordingly. In truth, I think it is going to be magical." The following morning, Dave and his wingman flew my guide, Todd, and I to the A beAr for the Ages Continued from page 151