Article #9: Success is in the Journey, by Chase Fulcher

The idea was to stay. Just stay on the hunt, whatever it took, until I had taken the five species of caribou in a single season. Seven weeks of committed, focused effort had earned me four of the five. Now, I had put in ten weeks of time away from family, friends, work and home over the course of a single season, and the perfect fifth bull had just bedded facing me.

The exertion-fueled warmth of an exhausting three-mile stalk over rough terrain in deep snow quickly faded. I couldn’t get into my backpack for my extra layers of clothing without him seeing or hearing me. Over an hour passed and my knees began to freeze to the ground. With my heavy coat in my backpack, I started shaking all over from the extreme cold. I knew I had a short time before I would have to make a move or I wouldn’t be able to pull my bow.

Time was against me. I decided to take a chance, and make something happen. I started drawing my bow hoping the bull would stand. The small bull nearby spotted me first, got spooked and bolted. The big caribou jumped to his feet and looked back towards me. I immediately focused and settled the pin on his chest, then released my shot. He ran and went down within my sight. I melted in my tracks and cried.

In the final climax of the longest, toughest, most challenging, high-reaching hunt of my career, I felt emptiness inside my heart. I was exhausted, sick and feverish. I was relieved to finally have the hunt behind me. I was ready and anxious to go home.

Trying to harvest five Caribou species in one season was far tougher than I had expected. Mother Nature doled out her best—the worst weather in a decade. We experienced complete whiteouts, heavy fog, torrential rain, and snow with 60-70 mph winds. Delays, unexpected landings, and missed migrations kept our days super long and our nights late.

I am grateful for superbly crafted, Gore technology-infused Sitka gear that helped me maintain my mental acuity in desperate conditions, as well as, for specially machined and weighted arrows increasing my FOC for the heavy winds.

In sharp contrast to my difficulties, the level of support, help and assistance I received from friends, guides, colleagues, acquaintances and perfect strangers throughout the season was unprecedented. Homes and camps were opened to me. Unforeseen gear needs were met by friends of acquaintances. Time and extra effort was given on my behalf. Almost everyone I came into contact with went above and beyond.

I had to work hard just for the opportunity to hunt, especially with the final hunt. Harsh weather closed out all but two options for my fifth caribou and narrowed the hunting window to a short three weeks. The emotional toll of the sudden and tragic death of my best friend, Bill Bruce, which coincided with the start of my fifth hunt, was enough to take me completely off task. I would have gone home and intended to go home until his widow, Jan, insisted that Bill would want me to stay. Her plea shifted my objective from achieving something unique to honoring his memory.

Shoot straight, Chase Fulcher