Mom's Memos, Musings, & iMages: The Blough Family Annual Caribou Hunt

Dear Children,

Today (April 2, 2010) we received in the mail, the Heritage Newsletter from Conemaugh Township Area Historical Society in Pennsylvania. The front page article was about our family caribou hunt. After hearing about our family adventures and fun, the editor asked Dad to write an article about the hunt. He likes to feature stories about hometown people.

Here is the article:

EDITOR NOTE: Ron Blough was born in Woodstown and attended Jerome Grade School and graduated from Conemaugh Twp. High School in 1951. He worked briefly at Bethlehem Steel and then entered the Marine Corps. After discharge in 1955 he went to Bob Jones University where he met his future wife, Marlene Bingham from Denver, Colorado. They both graduated from Bob Jones University in 1959. Together they have raised nine children and have traveled extensively as missionaries/pastors--17 years in Japan, 9 years in New Hampshire, and in 1986 they moved to Alaska where Ron has continued his missionary/pastor duties. They currently live in Hoonah, a quaint, little native village on the island. They are the first to say they have had a marvelous and blessed life. We would add to that--a very interesting life. THANK YOU, RON AND MARLENE,FOR SHARING THIS LATEST ADVENTURE.

Four Wheelers Lined Up Ready To Leave Camp

THE BLOUGH FAMILY ANNUAL CARIBOU HUNT

About twenty years ago three of my boys and I decided to go on a caribou hunt. Because we couldn’t afford to charter a plane to hunt places inaccessible by road, we drove about 500 miles from our home on the Kenai Peninsula. Our destination was the Taylor Highway that runs along the Alaskan side of the Yukon River in the Yukon Territory near where the Gold Rush took place in the 1890’s. We pulled a trailer with two three-wheeled ATVs on the back. The hunt always begins on August 10th and we were too late to see anything but gut piles.

Nearly every year since then we have made the trip and almost always have come back with our tags filled. After several years we graduated to four-wheeled ATVs. We always drive to the small village of Chicken named by gold miners and trappers who wanted to name it "Ptarmigan" but didn’t know how to spell it. There we unload our ATVs and drive at least twenty-five miles up into the mountains. We have driven almost twice that far when we have been unable to find caribou. Because they are nomadic and are on their way to the Yukon, we are never sure just where they will be. There are no trees, so you can see for miles.

On my first trip I woke up at 4 a.m. when I heard a shot. (When hunting in Alaska there are no time restrictions, but you are not allowed to use artificial lighting.) I stepped outside my tent and shot a nice bull at 100 yards. As I was quartering it out, I heard something behind me and there were six bulls, all bigger than the one I shot, watching me. It hasn't always been that easy! Since then I have shot several outside my tent while still in my underwear. A few years ago my kids gave me camo long johns!

For a period of time the hunt was shut down to ATVs because the herd was dwindling. Wolves and grizzly bears were killing about 90% of the newborn calves. Alaska Fish and Game began to sterilize the alpha male wolves and gave a bounty to trappers who caught them. The herd grew from about 20,000 to about 45,000 today.

There are many much larger herds but are unreachable by road. Now we are allowed to shoot two grizzly bears without a permit while hunting the Fortymile Herd, named for the Fortymile River, which flows through that area. We can shoot either bulls or cows; non-residents may shoot cows only. It is not always easy to tell the difference, because both have antlers. Hunters leaving camp must report to Fish and Game, and after 500 caribou have been harvested, a plane flies over the camps and drops a stone with a note attached saying the hunt is closed.

After the years we weren’t allowed to hunt, son Judson and I resumed the hunt. In 1995 we were packed to go when we got a call that our daughter Vicky’s husband had sustained a fatal injury when a horse kicked him. They were on a church building mission at Pinedale, Wyoming, with their three children, the youngest, 2 ½-month-old Joanna. We didn’t go that year, of course, but the next year we invited our widowed daughter to go with us--excellent idea! She is an excellent cook! Judson and I had always “made do” with ramen and our catch of grayling. We have gladly taken her with us ever since.

Soon other family members joined us, and our camp often grew to twenty or more. Vicky’s three children began to accompany us as they got older. Last year her 14-year-old Joanna got her first caribou. Grandchildren as young as eight have filled their tags. (Hunters under 16 and over 59 are exempt from buying a license.) In 2007 I talked Marlene into going. I got lots of squeezes as she rode with me over some pretty rugged trails on our 49th wedding anniversary! She shot her first caribou at 70 years of age.

We are now living on an island in Southeast Alaska, so the trip is not as simple as before. We take a ferry to Juneau, our capital, and then another ferry to the town of Haines on the mainland. From there we drive about 400 miles to Chicken.

To get Marlene to go again I bought a Honda "Big Red" side-by-side UTV. Her biggest draw was getting to meet our ten-month-old granddaughter for the first time. Five of our 9 children and 14 of our 29 grandchildren live in Alaska. Since we live 1,000 miles from some of our children in Alaska, the only time we see them is when we all get together on Chicken Ridge. On our last trip the weather was bad mixed with rain and snow, but it was worth it! Our daughter Bea shot a bear at 30 yards that was coming toward her and her four children.

Venison from our island (we are each allowed 6 blacktail deer) and caribou comprise almost all of our meat. That, with crab, salmon, halibut, and berries make up a lot of our diet.

We commit each hunting trip to the Lord and thank Him for the good times and protecting care over the years.

"O Lord, how manifold are Thy works! In wisdom Thou hast made them all: the earth is full of Thy riches” Psalm 104:24.

Note from Marlene:

On the hunting grounds we are very careful not to waste any of the meat. We put the quarters into game bags immediately and hang them up to cool. If the weather is warm, one of the party will take a trip into Tok (about 80 miles away) to refrigerate the meat taken early in the week. The hunters always have backpacks to pack the quarters back to camp. Ron and I stick close to camp, and the boys help us take care of the meat. They were good troopers when Ron shot one at 412 yards in a place the ATV couldn’t go. Their hike from the valley back up to the camp with the caribou was arduous!

When we arrive home the fun and work continue as we process the meat. We make burger and sausage with the trimmings. Most of the meat we freeze, but some we can. Caribou meat can be prepared and cooked the same as venison. It makes good jerky.

Cold weather vegetables grow well in Alaska. We’ve always enjoyed having a garden. The long days make up for the short growing season. Our greenhouse comes to the rescue for tomatoes.

Truly we are blessed with the bounty from God’s hand!