A Tragic Tale of Survival on an Alaska Bear Hunt

It was 1982 and springtime in Alaska. This was my favorite time to hunt big brown bears because there were no leaves on the alders and all the snow made spotting bears easier. The big boar bears are the first to come out of hibernation.  They are on the move looking for food after a long winter. My close friend, Jim Rockstad, wanted to go on a brown bear hunt with me. I told him I would be guiding in the spring with Steve Black, a reputable guide, and he had a great hunting area on the Alaska Peninsula. I told him about all the big bears we hunted in the past.  I hooked Jim up with Steve and the next thing I knew we were flying into Olga Bay on Alaska Peninsula. Jim was a great hunter and very experienced. He had hunted all over the world and was not afraid to do some serious hunting. I was so excited to be hunting with him.

On our first morning we hiked to a great vantage point and glassed, but didn’t see much. This is the best way to hunt the big bears. Hunting is a patience game and entails spending many hours of the day glassing from a good vantage point. I used to get hunters who had been working out all year and getting ready for a hunt of a lifetime. They would quickly run out of patience at a vantage point and come unglued saying, “I didn’t pay $20,000 to come up to Alaska and sit on my butt all day.” I would have to diplomatically explain to them that this was the most successful and efficient way to get a big bear. We could see many square miles of terrain. I would explain that from a good vantage point we were looking at 70% of the country. When we are hiking and glassing, we are only looking at 15-25% of the country. We are also making noise and leaving a scent. Bears have an extremely sharp sense of smell, and it is important to have all the odds in our favor.

After 5 days of hard hunting and many hours of glassing, Jim and I had only seen several sows and cubs and a few medium size bears. I was starting to feel the pressure as a guide and, even with your best buddy, you can only glass so long. Jim was not complaining, but I had told him stories of all the big bears we had taken in the past and I was anxious to find one for him. 

On the 6^th day in the morning, Jim and I spotted a monster bear. The problem was the bear was too high on the mountain and too far to go after. Most guides would not have attempted to go so far away. Jim and I grabbed our packs and took off hard and fast anyway. It took us over an hour to get to the bear’s tracks in the snow. It was so steep and icy we really needed crampons in some places. After 4 hours of tracking, we dropped down and I spotted a big bear across the canyon sleeping. It was too far to shoot and because of such rugged terrain it would have been a very long way to circle around. I pulled out my predator call and started blowing like crazy. The bear awoke and started slowly going down the canyon. We could not really see him but could see the alders moving as he went through them down the canyon. We raced down the mountain on the opposite ridge to get to the bottom of the canyon where we anticipated the bear would come out. Everything was perfect. We got to the bottom and crossed a little river. We were very excited watching all the moving alders closer and closer and the bear came right to us. Jim had a 350 Remington magnum I had previously kidded him about saying, “what are you doing with that BB gun?”  When the big monster bear stepped out of the alders, he was only 50 yards from us. A real monster! Jim was happy to take my 375 H&H and shot the bear three times in the chest. I handed him his gun and he emptied it into the bear, all good shots. I quickly reloaded the 375. After six shots, well placed, the monster was down for good. 

Jim's bear, still in his house today.

Jim and I were very happy and crossed the river in our ankle-fit, hip boots. Little did we know our happiness was soon going to be over. The monster bear had died in some thick alders. Jim and I climbed above him, and it was like rolling a thousand pounds of jelly down the hill little by little. We took him out to a nice clearing where we could take some pictures and skin him out. While reaching into my pack for a camera I heard a faint whistle. I sensed something was wrong. I asked Jim, “Did you hear that whistle?”

Jim said, “No, was it a parka squirrel?” I said, “No, there is a foot of snow on the ground.” Then we both heard a whistle and pulled our binoculars out of our chest packs and started glassing. It was hard to pinpoint the sound with the river noise next to us. Jim said he saw something and thought it was a bear. Then I realized it was a person. The guy was in a camo jacket and crawling in the snow. We were nearly 600 miles from Anchorage in a wild uninhabited country. We were completely at a loss and confused to see someone at all, and an hours climb high in the cliffy mountains crawling in the snow. We had no idea what was going on. 

I told Jim that I had to get the enormous bear skinned or the body heat could cause the hair to slip and ruin the trophy. We were a long way from our spike camp, and it would be dark in about 4 hours.  Jim hiked up the mountain and I started skinning the huge bear. After about 20 minutes Jim put his binoculars up and found out we had a serious problem. He whistled for me and motioned for me to come up. I quickly caught up with Jim. We realized the guy crawling in the camo jacket was Steve Black, our pilot. He had been flying around with Terry. Three months before this hunt I went off a cliff and broke my back and consequently they were checking on me. Terry and Steve had seen the big bear tracks and were looking for us. The engine stalled when they turned towards the mountain, and they crashed. 

Terry was killed and Steve’s leg was broken in three places as well as other injuries. Steve had crawled out of the Super Cub and tied a splint on his leg and crawled down the mountain as best he could. It was a miracle that God helped us find Steve. He was twice as big as Jim and I and we had to be very careful as we dragged him down the mountainside with the cliffy slopes. We could not drag him back up if we went down the wrong ridge. I would run ahead and make sure we were going the best way. We finally got him to the river and had to drag him across the icy water. Steve had to be freezing but he never complained as he lay there in a foot of snow with a bad broken leg with a bone sticking out and other injuries. 

Steve said, “Did you get the bear,” and I said, “Yes.” Steve was freezing and we were afraid he would go into shock. Steve said, “Get me in the hide.” Jim did everything to make Steve comfortable while I skinned like crazy, leaving more fat on the bear hide so I could skin quicker. The hide was 10 ½ feet square and with extra fat was easily over 200 lbs. Jim and I spread the hide out and wrapped Steve up in the thick fur.

Jim and I took off hiking back to base camp and crossed several river crossings that were over our hip boots. Normally we would not have done that, but this was an emergency situation. We finally got down to the beach and it was high tide and caused the river to be too deep to cross without getting wet, but we crossed anyway. We finally got to base camp where we triggered the emergency locator transmitter on the 207 airplane. We grabbed 3 sleeping bags, a tarp, army cot and food. We headed back to the mountain to find Steve at about 2 AM. We were afraid he would have gone into shock, but he was hanging in there. We put Steve inside two sleeping bags and put his feet in some felt liners. Then we wrapped the bear skin under and over him. We had one small sleeping bag left and it was cold. Jim and I are real good friends but, oh well, anyway we climbed into that little sleeping bag together. We could not zip up the zipper. We were not comfortable, but it was better than freezing. At first light, about 4:30 am, I finally got a fire going. Jim stayed with Steve, and I got my gear and started hiking over the mountain to the next bay where Gary, our other guide, was guiding Dr. Russell Rhoades on a bear hunt. The snow was very deep in places which made it very difficult to walk. I managed to get on a few caribou trails, and it made hiking easier. I had never been where I was going and managed to get to the ridge after a couple of hours. I glassed there and found Gary’s tent. I hiked down to the camp in about an hour. I wanted to get their attention and knew they were hunting. It was windy and I tied my space blanket to a bush and then I shot my three emergency flares. I fired my 375 three times and then sat down and rested. I was pretty tired by then. I did not know what else to do but wait. 

I fell asleep and about 30 minutes later Gary woke me up. I was a little out of it. I explained the sad situation we were in. Gary said there was a fish and game camp in the next bay and he would hike over there for help. They had a radio there. The doctor got some things together and then came with me back to Steve and Jim. When we got back to where Steve was, I was thankful to have him along and he was very encouraging. When we got back to Jim and Steve, I was a little relieved, Steve just never complained. The doctor said we did all we could with what we had to work with. The doctor said God wanted Steve to live and He helped us hear Steve’s whistle.      

A couple hours later we could hear the rescue helicopter coming. Gary had been successful in reaching Fish Camp and they radioed the Coast Guard on Kodiak Island. I quickly threw some extra green branches on the fire to make some extra smoke. I will never forget when the chopper landed. It created so much wind that the army cot that I had put up just blew high into the air and disappeared in the alders. After the chopper rescue workers landed, they came in with their helmets on and they brought a stretcher in and put Steve on the stretcher. They were carrying out Steve when he said, "STOP!" and told me to fill out the rest of the hunters. Steve was very hard core as the last thing I was thinking about was hunting at that time.

The Coast Guard pilot informed me that they were not allowed to transport guns and hunting gear and trophies because it is against Coast Guard policy. I was kind of discouraged and tired and then the other pilot stepped up and said we are not looking and I didn’t get it. Jim quickly tapped me on the shoulder and said come on and we all loaded the bear hide up. It took the three of us to get it in the chopper and all the guns and hunting gear and then we jumped in and they flew us, in just five minutes, over to our base camp and dropped us off. After they dropped us off, they took Steve to the hospital on Kodiak Island where later he was flown to a hospital in Anchorage. 

That evening we were all tired and we got something to eat and went to bed early. The next morning was a beautiful day which is rare on the Alaska Peninsula, and I told Dr. Rhoades that if he would like to hunt we could walk a half hour from camp to a nice vantage point. So, we quietly walked out there. No one said anything. No one was really into hunting. We sat up there and glassed and watched a sow and bear cubs running down the snow covered mountain. After a short time, Dr. Rhoades tapped me on the shoulder and said he would just as soon go back to camp, and no one said a word. We went back to camp and started breaking camp, getting things ready to be picked up. The following day the chopper returned and retrieved Terry’s body from the plane crash site.         

It kind of gives me the chills when I think back on different trips. Maybe that is why it has taken me so long to write this story.  I was in Alaska in the fall of 2022 and had plans to help my guide friend with some moose hunters. Unfortunately, I got Covid. I know it was a blessing because I sat on my brother’s couch, in Homer, and wrote over a hundred pages of hunting stories. While I was there, I thought it would be nice to go see Steve. Unfortunately, I had found out that he had passed away 7 months earlier. Steve was a true Alaskan pilot and commercial fisherman and guide. It was a real pleasure to work with such a great guy. Terry was a good guy also and loved the outdoors.

In Alaska they say there are old pilots and bold pilots, but there are no pilots that are old and bold! Some people say Steve Black was an exception to this rule. To this day my good buddy Jim Rockstead buys the largest sleeping bags I have ever seen!   

Years later I got married on Santa Cruz Island off the California coast to RuthAnn, who was a young lady, with high energy and she was a doctor! The following day we had our reception in Santa Barbara. I was honored and surprised to see my close buddies, Jim and Ron Rockstead and Steve Black, all down from Alaska as well as my great buddy Pete Pulitzer and his wife, Hilary, from Florida. After the reception RuthAnn and I planned to go back to Santa Cruz Island and stay in my 3-story treehouse for a short honeymoon. I know this sounds outrageous, but time was short, and my buddies were all the way down from Alaska so I invited them to come out with us on our honeymoon. All I can say is we had been together for many great and hard times and were very close. Yes, yes this went over like a lead balloon. After taking them all hunting the next morning, I thought RuthAnn was going to have a cow. Nine months later RuthAnn divorced me, and this is the first thing she told the marriage counselor. He freaked out. Ten years later she said dumping me was her biggest mistake. All I can say is real hunting buddies are real tight and always there for each other. 

Happy Hunting! 

Jaret Owens - 805-551-6815