The hunt photographed here was more difficult than most — for reasons beyond the weather and rugged terrain. It was my first trip back to Alaska since my father’s death in March of this year. Dad had joined me in Alaska twice before. The first trip was to fish and explore, the second to hunt caribou above the Arctic Circle. I remember asking him, “Do you want to go caribou hunting?” He shook his head with a quick, “No, not this year.” I pressed, sliding a plane ticket and his caribou tag across the dining room table. Surprised but hesitant—65 years old and a little nervous—he said yes. By June, he was packed and ready for our mid-September departure. That was Dad—quietly determined, but always prepared. We had a great hunt, and he killed a nice bull. On each solo hunt after that, I’d message him with my InReach every few days, updating him on close calls and wild moments. He loved it all. Last year, I wrote from the Alaska Peninsula, “Dad, I thought we had a big earthquake today—
Post: 18 December 09:26
