Vanished: Bear Trails: Stories of hunting bears on Kodiak Island

By Darrell Farmen

I met Darrell Farmen in 1975, when he was serving on the Board of Game. Over the next few years, Darrell shared remarkable stories about Alaska's hunting past. I have since hunted Kodiak several times, stayed in the cabins at Karluk Lake and read all the names on the cabin walls from successful hunters guided by this extraordinary outdoorsman. Perhaps, one day you will be inspired to do the same. I am extremely thankful that Darrell has written about his Kodiak adventures. In these pages, Darrell takes you hunting with him, and makes sure you learn something along the way. In addition to the hunting stories, he delineates with great humility many of the trials and tribulations he and others faced. You will understand the harsh Kodiak climate that Darrell and his clients endured and the skills they required to withstand these hardships. If you have hunted bears on Kodiak Island or even dreamt about hunting there, this book is a must-read. Ted Spraker

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Dec 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781594337345

Darrell Farmen

Foreword by Randy Zarnke:

Book preview

2005

Section 1

1953-1965

From the moment I arrived at the Olga Bay Cannery, Bill and Morris put me to work. Like the rest of the crew, I was busy from dawn ‘til dusk whether it was cleaning the shop, repairing the plumbing, helping with garden or packing supplies. But the part that we all loved the most was being out in the field, helping our clients find that bear of a lifetime. We worked harder than ever in the field, but it was the best part of the job. Pure and simple, it was the reason I came to work for these guys. Kodiak was such a unique environment, and I couldn’t get enough of it. In this first section, I will share some of the highlights from those 12 years with P&T. I hope that you enjoy reading my memories of that glorious time and place.

- Darrell Farmen

Subsistence Bear Hunt - 1949

Date: March 1949

Hunters: Gene Mahy, Larry Matfay, Arthur Matfay and Willie Eluska

Guides: Morris Talifson, Bill Pinnell

Eluska and the two Matfay’s had come to the cannery to hopefully shoot a bear for meat to be used in Akhiok. They found a very large boar at the east end of Cannery Lake, but apparently thought their rifle was not big enough. They enlisted Morris, and he killed the bear.

I don’t know if P&T had a .375 at the time, or if they bought their first one in 1951, so don’t know what Morris used. In this photo of Morris holding a rifle in front of the bear, the rifle is a .30-06 with a cheek piece. I carried this rifle until I bought a .300 H&H. Morris may have used this .06, but I never thought to ask him.

I believe the bear was shot on the east side of the creek, since the snow was deep in photos taken after the kill, but the slopes were bare on the opposite side of the lake as shown in the same photos.

I heard stories of this bear in 1953 but never saw any photos. It wasn’t until 2000 that I found 16 mm color film, all taken the day after the kill, when the meat and hide were retrieved. I assume the film was taken by Morris, since I can’t find him in any of the footage. There were many photos of the hide nailed on a building at the cannery, printed by Bill and Morris and sold in Kodiak. The photos spread all over the country.

Most of the meat was retrieved and sledded across frozen Cannery Lake to the outlet and packed to the cannery. The Natives hauled the meat to Akhiok by skiff.

Morris kept the hide and it eventually ended up in Herb Klein’s trophy room in Dallas, Texas. The life-size mount was done by Guy Jonas in Seattle. I would think the skull was left in the brush.

This bear was taken in March of 1949 near the east end of Akalura (Cannery) Lake. Morris Talifson holding rifle and Bill Pinnell standing on ladder.

The Weather

Weather dictated all of our activities whether hunting, trapping, boat travel, or gardening. Hunting activities were influenced by wind velocity and direction, even more than if it was just raining, snowing or sunshine. We calculated we had one good day a week, maybe two fairly good, and the rest would be mediocre to lousy or even cabin-bound. Bottom line was it had to be pretty bad before we didn’t hunt.

On Kodiak, there were a lot of rainy days, so you hunted in the rain. A good rain coat was essential and more so when trying to get a nap on a hillside in pouring rain. Visibility was poor, especially in the spring when distance was important. Not so important in the fall when we would be set up along a stream at close distance to where we expected to see bears. Still, just as wet.

Even in the 1950s, on a two week hunt sometimes it was difficult to find a good bear. If we weren’t finding bears, then being storm-bound in a cabin for several days was hard to take. On the other hand, a cabin was always more comfortable than a tent. Big rainstorms came out of the east/northeast, with winds up to 90-100 miles per hour and driving rain. Later in November, high west winds would come but clear skies and no rain. In the mountainous country, high winds produced Willi-Waws, which were severe short duration whirlwinds. When caught in these in a small boat, you had to be careful. A number of times at Karluk, we boated down the lake and walked home after beaching the skiff rather than trying to motor the skiff during a Willi-Waw.

In the early 1950s, we received about ten days of clear, cool weather with westerly winds in early April. In early November, we received a stretch of clear, cool weather like this, too. It was good weather for hunting. Sometimes, the clear weather varied between several days and two weeks. In April, you could sit on your snowshoes to keep out of the snow, but napping was difficult unless you found the top of a tussock sticking through the snow. In November, the ground was mostly bare but ice cold for sitting. With any breeze and the temperature hovering about 32 degrees, it was difficult to be comfortable while glassing for any amount of time. You glassed until you were too cold to hold the glasses steady and then would huddle in a tussock hole trying to warm up. Usually, you ran up and down hill to get the blood circulating. A calm, clear, mild day was something to be treasured.

As things warmed in the spring, the ice and snow melted and eventually buds appeared on the trees and brush. It was always good to see warm weather, except that it brought out mosquitoes, early and hungry. The arrival of white sox varied from early to late May, depending on where you were. They are blood-thirsty little critters with teeth like alligators. However, we preferred them over mosquitoes since they went to ground as soon as it got dark and stayed there until daylight. Mosquitoes, on the other hand, tried to eat you 24 hours a day.

My First Bear Hunt on Kodiak - 1953

Date: April 1-15, 1953

Location: Canyon Creek and Karluk Lake

Hunters: Ralph Brown, D.L. Gann, and R.H. Hedgecoke (all from Ruidoso, New Mexico)

Guides: Bill Pinnell and Morris Talifson

Packers: Darrell Farmen and Vinnie Peters

I arrived at the Pinnell and Talifson headquarters at Olga Bay on March 16, 1953. I was hired as a packer and camp flunky for their brown bear guiding operation at the south end of Kodiak Island.

When the hunters arrived on April 1, the first three days were spent walking to get them in shape to hunt. The hunts were conducted on snowshoes and required substantial physical effort. Those first days were spent walking from the main house to the east end of Cannery (Akalura) Lake to ice fish. It was a round trip of about five miles.

The hunt plan was for the three hunters, Bill, Morris, Vinnie Peters (packer) and myself to pack into Frazer Lake cabin, a distance of about ten miles. We walked Cannery Lake to the east end, pulling our gear on small sleds. Rich Sauer remained at the main camp to maintain that end of the operation.

Deep snow at the east end of the lake required that snowshoes be used. The pass leading into the Frazer Lake country was steep, requiring that we remove the snowshoes and stomp foot holes in the snow. Sometimes, you broke through to your crotch and filled your boot with snow. After pulling your leg out of the snow, you sat on your snowshoes to remove your boot and dump out the snow. Then, you tamped the hole full of snow to help the man behind you and moved on. Reaching the top of the pass was going easy since the wind-packed snow covered the willow brush and grass tussocks.

The twelve foot by fourteen foot cabin was fully-stocked with food, except for bread, eggs, bacon, meat, and some apples and oranges which we packed in with us. Bunks, mattresses, sleeping bags, dishes and silverware were already in place, as well as a small table and benches. Boards had been placed over the ceiling joists to create extra storage space. Blazo box cupboards covered the back wall for canned goods and other supplies. A small sheet metal stove (made by Morris) was in place, as well as a small table holding a Coleman stove. Tag alder stove wood had been stacked under the bottom bunks the prior fall to dry. This wood was moved to the front porch when we arrived.

Water was carried from a small seep close to the cabin. The cabin was about 100 yards from the Lake, nestled in a small group of cottonwood trees. These trees were never cut for firewood, but rather left for protection from the wind.

My mornings began with a 6:00AM alarm notifying me it was time to rise and shine. I rose, but don’t remember much shining. Early April temperatures were usually in the low 20s at daylight, due to the annual two weeks of clear weather. The cabin was cold, so speed was rendered to load the stove, slosh in some kerosene, open all the dampers and light with a match. In a couple minutes, the stove was jumping while a tea kettle and coffee pot heated on the Coleman. Bill, Vinnie and the hunters would get up to water the snow, wash and get coffee. Morris was always the last one up. After breakfast was served, dishwater was heated, while lunches were made. Lunch always consisted of a Spam and cheese sandwich, an apple or orange (never both in one lunch) and a candy bar (Almond Joy, Snickers or Hershey bar).

After dishes were done, the packs were loaded, hipboots and socks retrieved from various nails, fire allowed to die, snowshoes laid out, rifles and binoculars checked and spotting scopes packed. Everyone checked for toilet paper and sunglasses. The latter were needed because of glare off the snow. Morris was the first person I saw who rolled his pipe filters out of (unused) toilet paper. We had no sun screen of any kind. Our faces burned to a crisp. Our ears burned, split and bled. Eventually, the burns scabbed over.

Several days of hunting produced nothing but sore muscles from snowshoeing. The snow softened by late morning and breaking trail became a chore. The soft crystallized snow ate up the babiche any place your boot rubbed on the webbing of your snowshoe. Field repairs were made with scraps of twine from old fish nets, but these patches wore out quickly.

I knew that bears would start digging out of the high-country dens at this time of year. However, hunting for several days without seeing a track required patience. I noticed that Bill and Morris did not seem concerned.

They decided we should move to Karluk Lake, where they had a stocked cabin at the mouth of Cascade Creek. The move consisted of loading our leftover fresh food and departing as soon as the cabin was closed up. Our loads were not heavy, since we had no extra clothes; just what we wore.

We walked the lake ice to the outlet and then down the north side of the river past the falls. The plan was to work our way up a small drainage to a pass leading to the headwaters of Cascade Creek, and then down the creek to the cabin. Since I had long legs, I was given the honor of breaking trail uphill. About two-thirds of the way to the pass, we encountered a large, dark brown bear resting on the snow about 350 yards ahead of us. There was no cover between us and the bear, but Morris and Ralph Brown slowly snowshoed to within shooting distance. Several shots later and the bear was dead on the snow.

This was the first brown bear I’d seen up close and it looked enormous. In retrospect, it was indeed about as big as they get. It later squared several inches over ten feet and was in perfect condition. Watching the approach and shooting, I knew I was where I should be.

After photos were taken, Morris and Vinnie stayed to skin the bear. They, Brown and Gann, would return to the cannery, while Bill, Hedgecoke and myself moved on to Karluk Lake. Morris and Vinnie carried the hide to the Frazer cabin that day and on to the cannery the next. The hide weighed about one hundred pounds without the skull. All the skulls were left on the carcass at that time, because the hunters didn’t want them.

We found about two feet of snow at the Cascade cabin, and used a snowshoe to scrape the snow away from the door. First chore was to remove a fourteen foot plywood skiff, which had been stored inside out of the weather and to prevent bears from chewing on it. The cabin was a duplicate of the Frazer cabin, with everything in the same place. No one had to sing us to sleep that night.

From the cabin, we could glass a number of mountain slopes so we spent several days at this. Vinnie snowshoed in from the cannery about three days later. Bill found a large boar at the bend of Canyon Creek, just laying in the snow. He was over half-way up what we later named Coke’s Mountain, laying in a snow-clogged basin.

The next morning, he was still there, so we started after him. About three hours of snowshoeing brought us to the base of the mountain, where we looked up an extremely steep wall covered with snow and scattered tag alder. Bill spent most of his time trying to get me to shorten my strides, since his legs were shorter than mine and he had to essentially break trail between my snowshoe prints. I never gave thought to the fact that Bill was fifty five years old at the time, which made him almost forty years my senior.

Leaving the snowshoes and packs behind, we started stomping our way up the slope. Part of the way, we had small alders to hang onto. We carried two rifles and a coal sack to stuff the hide into, as well as knives and whetstones. It seemed to take forever to reach the basin and more level going. There was no cover, so we climbed towards the bear hoping to get within shooting range. All the time, we were in plain sight, but the bear never moved.

Coke, short for Hedgecoke, shot this bear with a pre-1964 Winchester Model 70 chambered in .30-06. This was my second bear, and it was a ten footer. After rolling him on his belly, we took some photos and then rolled him on his back for skinning, which required several hours. The skull was left on the carcass. I tied a cord through the nose and we dragged the skin to the drop off. We stuffed the skin into the coal sack, laced it shut and kicked it over the steep cliff. It fell, rolled and slid to the bottom close to our packs. After slowly descending, we lashed the bag to my packboard and snowshoed down our back trail. Vinnie and I took turns carrying the hide, which weighed about one hundred pounds. We reached the cabin about 10:00PM and soon had a fire going and something to eat.