Y.M.: Yankovsky.
My way to the first bear (2009)
Spring. Kamchatka.
That time we were accompanied by the very experienced guides Yuri and Alexander. Yuri was about sixty years old. He was slightly above average height, slightly burred and constantly made caustic, but not offensive jokes to someone's address. He had been hunting in this area for many years and knew all the peculiarities of the bears' behavior when leaving the den. Sasha was my age and had already spent several serious hunts with me. He was short, had blue eyes, had a higher education and lived his profession and loved nature. You can go everywhere with such guys.
The last member of our tight-knit team was Tatiane- our cook. I also worked with her before. That short, blue-eyed, middle-aged woman seemed to exude kindness and courtesy. She wasn't the professional cook but cooked well and very tasty. She managed to cook us not only various culinary delights, but also bake pancakes, cakes and even a cake in the field conditions of the hunting camp. I called her “the rocket” because she did everything very fast. It seemed that she did not walk, but flew from the kitchen to the living room, where we ate and spent our free time. Tatiana always tried to create a good atmosphere of home comfort in our hunting den. And she was successful in it.
After arrival to the airport of Kamchatka we immediately drove to the hunting area. The way laid along the only road that connected the south and north of Kamchatka between the Eastern and Middle Ridges. The hunting lodge was located near the foot of the Middle Ridge.
None of us had noticed how 3 hours of the road quickly flew by because we were talking. Then we had transferred to snowmobiles in the small village of Ganaly and continued the 12km long journey through the valleys and foothills of the Nemtik River basin. The wind and the sun thickened the snow so much on the open spaces that sometimes it seemed that we were driving on asphalt bumps up to half a meter high. Every time the sled attached to the back of the snowmobile fell from another hillock into the pit before the next hillock, our internal organs rushed down with the same speed, and we had to wonder how they could stand it all. But that test of the body did not last long. At last, the snowmobile-ridden road smoothly flowed into a typical Kamchatka forest, which consisted of sparsely growing birch, alder, spruce in places and a mass of various shrub forms, we felt a little more comfortable and were able to admire the beauties of the Kamchatka landscapes. The Eastern Ridge with its snow-capped peaks against the blue sky appeared before us in all its glory. The bright spring sun beat out a dazzling fountain of reflected rays, which shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, from the ice crystals on the peaks of the mountains
Soon we crossed a small slope and the enchanting beauty of the mountains was replaced by more mundane colors of cedar elfin and the open water surface of Nemtik. We had to force a couple of streams and one small suspension bridge while driving, which was expertly done by our guides Yuri and Sasha on snowmobiles with sleds attached.
Finally, our caravan arrived to a small hunting camp, consisted of a main building with a kitchen, a living room and several bedrooms, and an unfinished bathhouse. We were greeted by the joyful barking of dogs. Those were Sasha's faithful friends, nicknamed Baikal and Kai. Baikal was already at an advanced age, by dog standards, about 12 years old. But Sasha continued to take it with him to the forest to hunt. I had the dog of the same age at home and understood perfectly what it meant for a hunting dog to be where it had been hunting all its life. Being in the hunting grounds prolongs the dog's life. We often take them with us, at the first opportunity, even if the dog can’t help us in the hunting process.
We began to unpack their luggage immediately upon arrival. We quickly dragged things into one of the rooms. It was cool in the house. The hearth is a heart of any home that gives heat and makes the atmosphere. Sasha took it upon himself to revive the hearth in the kitchen. Yuri helped Tatiana carry kitchen utensils and groceries. I began to make a fire in the stove.
Soon it became warm. Tatiana prepared a small snack. My guides Yuri, Sasha and I discussed the possibility of going out for exploration. It's time to talk about what was waiting for me on the way to my first trophy of the Kamchatka bear.
I started to prepare my equipment, photo and video equipment for the upcoming hunt. The guys studied the area near the base. Suddenly I heard the sound of an approaching snowmobile. he door swung open and Sasha, like a true gambling hunter, addressed me: “ \We detected the bear! Are you ready?” The interrogative intonation was absolutely inappropriate in that case. Of course, I was ready.
I imagine that situation thousands of times and now it was real. I have a chance to realize my dream. I could hardly convey what a professional hunter felt at the moment when the dream of the hunt was close to being realized.
All the equipment and weapons were almost ready. I dressed myself for hunting with lightning speed, but with thoroughness. We should drive part of the way about 10 km on a snowmobile and then it was necessary to go about 5-6 km to the bear on skis according to Sasha's words. Sasha strapped the skis to the sled while I was getting dressed, then threw on a backpack with equipment, necessary things, took a carbine and flew out of the house. I thought that Tatiana could call me the “rocket” at that moment. But she only managed to shout, according to custom, "Not a feather!", and Sasha and I almost disappeared on the way to our goal, according to the same tradition, sending Tatiana "to hell.”
The path ran through a swampy valley of a small stream. The snow in the daytime was already limp and sometimes we had to pull our iron assistant, a snowmobile, out of captivity of the snow porridge. There were not serious problems as we thought at that moment. We both were in a high spirit. I was driving towards my dream.
The most unexpected and unpleasant things happen unexpectedly always. Nobody could expect that a huge block of ice would break off at the place by the stream, where snowmobiles and sledges had already passed more than once. The guides should be more attentive and look back more often in such dangerous places, but their hunting passion sometimes prevailed over common sense. Everything happened in a split second, but it all happens in slow motion in my mind. A snowmobile drives along the edge of an ice hummock frozen over the winter. The sleigh runs into the very edge of this ice pack. A huge block of ice breaks off under the right ski of the sledge. The sleigh turns over, and I fly with them into the crystal clear, icy water. I love cold water and enjoy dipping into the ice hole in winter or diving into the snow, but only after I have warmed up in the bath and without clothes. But in that situation, I happened to be in the water not after the warm bath, in all my clothes and with the rifle! Anyone who has been through it can imagine my feeling of invigorating coolness in my shoes and all over my body. I only managed to push my carbine onto the high icy shore standing almost knee-deep in the water.
My backpack with all the equipment and things was strapped to the back of the seat on the sled and was completely in the water. I came out of a light stupor faster than my guide because was in the very epicenter of what had happened. My guide couldn't believe what had happened and after he made sure that it did happen, he couldn't move to help me. It seemed that Sasha was already confused that he didn’t know what to do. Sasha looked at me, at the sleigh, and seemed unable to understand what had happened. My scream brought him out of his stupor: “Sasha, sleigh!”. Photo and video equipment together with batteries absolutely doesn’t accept water procedures, as well as weapons, the first thing I thought about when I was in the water and secured my carbine from bathing was about a camera, lenses and a video camera. When Sasha woke up from his stupor and rushed to help me turn over and pull our sled out of the water, it was already flowing from my backpack, where all my belongings were. Neither wet clothes, nor instantly cold feet in boots full of water shocked me, when I realized that all the equipment was still in the water, and I would be left without the opportunity to film my hunt or at least take a picture with my trophy in case of luck.
The first thing I did was to disassemble my backpack when got out on the hard ice. To my horror, I began to take out all the cases in turn and poured out the water, they all were full. The only thing I could only hope was that the water had not penetrated into the very heart of the equipment – electronics. But those hopes were rather illusory. I disconnected all the batteries and opened all the doors that could be opened to check for water ingress inside. It was very disappointing because I had already shot an interesting video and took some good pictures during the hunt. And it could all disappear.
After having dealt with the equipment (later I dried it for two days in a warm room) I started sorting out my clothes. Everything was wet, from boots to jacket. But the hat was absolutely dry! I didn't worry about the camouflage suit that I was wearing on top, because I knew that it would dry out quickly. All other things had to be squeezed out. It's an interesting thing, but not at a temperature of - 10 degrees. Sasha contemplated the whole process silently, He didn’t know what to say or advise, I guessed that he was aware of his responsibility for what happened. I looked at his face, gray with tension, more like a mask, squeezed out a semblance of a smile and said: “Don't worry! We will break through!". Then I seat on the snowmobile and I began to squeeze out my things one by one. Wool socks, winter hunting shoes absorbed so much moisture that I had to squeeze them out several times. It all looked pretty funny from the outside. But I was faced with a dilemma – to continue hunting further or to return to the camp? To continue hunting in such equipment meant a lot of inconvenience and danger to health. No one knew where and in what conditions we could be and how long I’ d have to stay in wet clothes. But to return to the base and to leave another attempt to get my first bear, meant for me to show cowardice and weakness as a professional hunter. It was possible to return, dry out and go hunting again in a day, but as Vladimir Vysotsky sang in his song "You can turn off, go around the cliff, but we choose a difficult path dangerous as a military path!” That’s why I chose the most difficult path, but the path that led to my long-term goal. I had no longer the moral right to retreat, first of all, before myself. I reasoned that I would not freeze even in wet clothes if I move constantly. Telling the truth, I hoped that the time that I would have to wait out when approaching the beast, was not be very long. It was already afternoon, and the sun was setting very quickly in Kamchatka. We'd return back to the base in case of failure, to warmth and comfort, where we could discuss further plans.
Yuri drove up, worried about our long absence. He was waiting for Sasha and me at the agreed place. The silent scene was repeated a second time. As the guys told me later, there was no such thing in their practice before. I was finishing to wring out my clothes when Yuri turned off his snowmobile and a "deafening" silence suddenly hung in the air, interrupted only by the murmur of water in the stream. It seemed that we could hear the squeak of a mouse under the snow in a nearby glade.
Sasha 's question broke the silence: “What will we do next?” That phrase hung in front of all of us like the world-famous "To be, or not to be? The guys thought that we would all go back to the camp because they didn’t hope to continue the hunt. I tried to keep calm in my voice and in a slightly shaking body from a slight chill, turned my eyes to Yuri, who was still in a state of mild prostration, and asked him: “Where’s the bear?” You should have seen his face. The hitherto gloomy expression on the face of a big and good-natured man was instantly replaced by a gambling and professional hunting passion. He replied without hesitation: “There. On the place. It lays on the slope”. We should ski about 5-6km to the bear. But first of all it was necessary to get on snowmobiles to the place from where we could go skiing. Riding a snowmobile in wet clothes didn’t cause me any delight. I had to part with my very wet, and very heavy jacket. I hung it by the stream on an alder branch to pick up on the way back. Mittens and a soft case for the carbine were also left to hang there. Yuri gave me his work jacket. It was black. But the color didn’t play any role, since I put on a mask on top. A "light" frosty breeze blew over me on the way to our destination. Fortunately, that point was not so far away, and we drove only about 15-20 minutes. My hunting trousers with a membrane helped me out a lot in this difficult situation. The membrane didn’t allow to blow through my legs, and the soft lining still remained warm thanks to the warmth of my body even when wet.
Another surprise was waiting for me at the final destination of the snowmobile. It turned out that my skis from two pairs that were tied to the sled, were broken, or rather one of the skis, in the most crucial place where the end of the ski bends. But I had no choice but to go on such skis. It was impossible to eliminate that breakdown in field conditions. I had to think constantly not break the ski even more, especially on the slopes down.
So, we began to ski. Birch forest. Small streams. Descents, ascents. Our path ran along another stream at the very bottom of the valley, between two mountain slopes. And then, at the most inopportune moment, my long-suffering skis burst the canvas strap that hold the foot in the ski mount. It was the disaster for me. “I overcame so much obstacles and went them through, - I thought. Shall I stop now because of some kind of canvas strap”. But Sasha, with his usual calmness, said that it was all fixable. He took an "emergency kit" out of his backpack and sewed the strap in just 5 minutes. I was immensely grateful to him. We continued on our way to our bear again.
My ski training from school time and the constant practice of hunting in winter when I used ski when hunting for hares allowed me to move quickly after my guides. The only thing I dreamed about at that time was to get warm as soon as possible. It took about half an hour of constant skiing. it was unpleasant to be in wet clothes, but at least I wasn't cold. Yuri went a little ahead to monitor the situation on the opposite right slope. Sasha and I were moving forward on the right slope and watching the left slope. The bear was lying on that slope, and we should have to approach the distance of the shot. There were about 3-4km to our aim when we could distinguish only a small dark point but Yuri, thanks to his vast hunting experience, was able to recognize a bear from a distance of 5-6km. The bear could be seen only when it got up to change his position. It was lying on a small mountain shelf right on the mountainside. We could see pnly one-fifth of its entire torso. I was surprised by the ability of local guides to notice the beast from a great distance, but at the same time deserved the greatest respect.
We weren’t far from it. Our team had to constantly monitor the bear so as not to betray our presence. The sight, hearing and sense of smell of an animal was always several times sharper than that of a human and we should to be very careful despite the fact that we were all in disguises and moved very carefully. The bear could detect us much faster than we could imagine even without having good eyesight. We approached about a kilometer to our bear, when saw another one a little closer to us. It was difficult to notice it, because the bear was half in the den, and only the movement of its front paws or head gave it away. But that bear was definitely smaller and of no interest to us. The problem was that it could notice us and notify, in some way, another bear. Then everything would be in vain and we would have to turn around and go to the base. We gathered together, lined up behind each other in a tight line and tried to move as carefully and silently as possible. We should have to cross the part of open area where we couldn’t hide anywhere and to approach our bear. Finally, we reached the bushes 400 meters from the bear. There was a stream behind the bushes, and that was to our advantage. The stream created a natural background noise that hid the inevitable rustling of our skis on the snow. A steep ascent began immediately after the stream, and 300 meters above our bear laid.
It was difficult for me to choose a place to shoot. I was less noticeable in the bushes, but it was problematic to shoot at a maximum distance of 300 meters, which separated us from the trophy. It wasn’t the best solution to stay and to wait on the open area, because there was a risk to be noticed at any moment. And yet I chose the second option. I relied on my experience of the ability to be in a sitting position in an open place. That position gave a better view in conditions of limited visibility.
I chose a place behind a small sparse bush of tallow. There was nothing except snow around us. The prospect to seat there wet wasn’t pleasant from all sides. I put my hunting gloves on the snow, I had to leave my wet mittens near the stream, and sat down on them. Then I set a carbine next to my staff, which we use when skiing. I did not take a rangefinder or binoculars that time because relied only on an optical sight. I do it often when I hunt myself in conditions where the distance can be determined by eye, and I can see the trophy through the optics of the sight. In my opinion, the distance to the bear was about 300 meters, maybe a little less. I used my trusty and proven SAKO 75 HUNTER 300 WIN caliber on that hunt. Mag. Cartridges RWS for BLASER with the bullet CDP weight 10,7 gr. I can confidently hit and stop any large animal in Russia with such weapons and ammunition, which I had to experience on serious hunts in Kamchatka, Yakutia and Altai. It was a small matter - to wait for the bear to get up and make an accurate shot. But there is nothing predictable in hunting. Sasha was from the right side of me. Yuri muttered something about the time and disappeared to my left. As it turned out later, he wanted to insure in case the bear would go down to the stream. But the wind was blowing just from that direction and there was a possibility that the bear might smell it, and then we would fail, and I would be left without a shot and without a trophy.
Time passed too slowly... I clearly saw in the sight a part of the bear's head, which it was constantly moving, either licking itself, or just swinging. But it was impossible to shoot in such a situation. There was a high probability that at the moment of the shot the bear would move its head and there would be either a miss or a fight. Both of these results were highly undesirable.
Minutes passed. It was necessary to bear in mind the fact that the day before our faces and lips were badly burned in the sun. Ice and flame converged at once in one body. My feet were already freezing. I tried to keep my hands under my armpits. It had been about 20 minutes since our stop. My body was already starting to freeze. I was especially worried that my hands would get very cold, and it would be difficult for me to feel the movement of my index finger on the trigger. I had to recall army training when shooting in 30-degree frosts in Transbaikalia, where officers taught us to "love" weapons and shoot without mittens.
Only extreme concentration at the right moment could help in situations like the one I found myself in. I remembered a TV show about the British special forces. If you tell the Special Forces that he can't do it, and he will do it. The special forces soldier shot better against the background of fatigue and hypothermia of the body than in a calm environment, thanks to the same concentration of will. Every minute I was freezing more and more and I had nothing left but to prepare for that highest degree of concentration at the right moment. My long-awaited trophy was at stake.
Suddenly the bear abruptly stood up, pointed his muzzle in the direction where Yuri had gone. Obviously, the wind had done its job. We were discovered. The bear examined the entire part of the gorge accessible to its gaze. I clung to the eyepiece of the sight, and realized immediately that the shot was unlikely to succeed. The bear was a cunning and a very intelligent animal. It stood almost completely covered on one side with thick branches of bushes, on the other with a birch trunk. I clearly saw its huge head and paws in the sight. But I didn’t see its body. It was fraught with the danger of spoiling the last chance at that time if I shoot at such a distance at such a small target, and even being behind a bush. Endurance, prudence and lack of fuss in actions are qualities inherent in real hunters. I learned this all my hunting life. I can say that I’ve succeeded a little in this. So that time those qualities played a positive role. The bear moved half a slope to the right and disappeared behind a snow dune. I’ d sworn Yuri for sheer sloppiness or deliberate disregard for precautions and hoped that I would be able to see the bear when it appeared.
I was right. A brown hump appeared from behind the dune, then the whole bear. It was necessary to hurry with the shot, because the bear could disappear again behind the same dune. The wet clothes, the cold that has already reached the bones, and the shivering all over the body were immediately forgotten. There was only concentration on the goal and verified movements. There were about 300 m to the bear. I had caught its shoulder blade in the crosshairs. The bullet at that distance would drop by 20cm and should hit the heart area.
The index finger did its job with the trigger with a precise movement. The sound of the shot echoed through the valley of the gorge. The bear disappeared behind the snow dune again. I quickly reloaded the carbine, but I was absolutely sure that I had hit. The bear reappeared from behind a snow dune and was already moving in an open place. It didn't run and moved hard. It was obvious that the bullet had done its job. But it was still moving. The second shot slowed the beast down even more. It continued to move but it was already only going downhill. It always indicates a serious injury. The bear somersaulted, but got back on all fours. I shot again and reloaded. The bear fell down. I saw in the sight large spots of scarlet blood around the beast. We heard a wild roar of a huge predator, from which a slight shiver ran through the body. The bear spun on the spot, fell and got up again, trying to hold on, turned backwards down the slope. It was obvious that its strength was running out. I send the last bullet to the bear under the ribs on the left side. It went through the entire torso and stopped the agony of that monster. The bear went limp and rolled down towards the stream. The carcass of a bear blew into dust a huge rotten tree in girth thick, which was on its way. Fortunately for us, only four birch trees that stood together, which grew on a bare slope, slowed down the lifeless bear. Otherwise, we would have to pull the bear out of the stream.
There was silence for a moment. It seemed that even the stream had quieted down. The stress of moral and physical stress had gone away. All earthly sensations returned. And the cold took its place first. I did not notice in the heat of the "attack” that my clothes were covered with a light crust of ice outside. Although it was not noticeable through the camouflage, but I was convinced when I started moving. It seemed to me that all my joints creaked when I started to get up. Sasha, who was nearby, congratulated me on good shots and a trophy and immediately moved towards the slope on which the bear was lying.
But it was necessary to cross our stream, the depth of which was about 40-50 cm. Guides always wore waders, and Sasha had no difficulty forcing that water barrier. Yuri was already rushing down the slope from the other side. It wasn't so easy for me to cross over to the other side. All my movements due to hypothermia were constrained and uncertain. My brain wasn't working at full capacity either. I dragged myself with all my belongings in an armful: skis, a carbine and a staff on slippery stones instead of just throwing my skis to the other side, and crossing the stream myself quickly over the rocks. The result was predictable. The water element took me into its tender embrace once again. I fell backwards into one of the pits. It was good that it wasn’t a stone. But there was no matter for me. The most important thing was that I got my bear, and the fact that I got wet, so it could be survived. When I came up wet to the guys once again who were already near the bear, they looked at me, and we all laughed together. Fate?! I examined the trophy. The bear gave the impression of a huge monster created to kill. Huge fangs and claws seemed capable of tearing any flesh. I wouldn’t envy those who found themselves in the clutches of such a predator.
There was no time to relax. It was necessary to take off the skin and return to the base. It was getting dark. I still wanted to take a picture with my trophy. But all my video equipment remained spread out and covered to dry on the snowmobile sled. Sasha's small camera helped out. All together we barely pulled the huge bear out into the open, raked and put snow on one side so that the bear would not roll off the slope into the stream and took some pictures. It snowed a little and a cold wind blew when we were doing this photo shoot. I hadn’t warmed up really after the "war" with the bear and began to freeze further. That's why I had to wring out all my clothes again. But I was no longer used to it. At this time, Yuri and Sasha spread out a tablecloth, where the main dish for me was a 50-degree branded tincture made by Yuri for such cases and homemade lard. It warmed me up and gave me the strength to start skinning the bear together with the guys.
We did everything very fast. The skin was left on the snow with the underside up to pick it up the next day. Together we set off on the return and it wasn't such an easy way anymore.
At that moment I felt what did it meant the complete absence of serious motivation, the body relaxed, my legs became wadded up and it took me a lot of effort to warm up again. Everything ended sometime. My trials were coming to an end. What else would I remember besides the shot, if not for swimming in the Kamchatka creek?
We got to the snowmobiles. We collected all the things, skis, equipment and set off on the way back already in the thick twilight. The sled's seat was also wet and Yuri gave me a sheep's skin, which I was immensely glad and grateful to Yuri for a gorgeous gift in such a difficult situation. It was not very pleasant to meet cold wind and snow while sitting in wet clothes in a snowmobile sleigh, but I was warmed from the inside by the thought of the warmth in which we would inevitably find ourselves after a while.
We took a jacket, mittens and a soft case for a carbine when drove past a familiar stream and continued our way to the base. It wouldn’t be a very big revelation that I was exhausted both mentally and physically for the whole day. To swim in cold water twice, to walk in wet clothes for a total of more than 10 kilometers on skis, one of which was damaged, to sit in the snow for about half an hour and constantly thinking about not letting the bear go away, and to remember the need to move through difficult terrain with the accuracy of a wild cat – it all could not but tire anyone, even the strongest and most prepared person. The only question was how each of us endures all these trials. I still can't help but feel a sense of pride that I not only got such an honorable trophy of the Kamchatka bear, but also has gone through such trials on the way to it.
A snowmobile and a sleigh jumped over numerous mounds of frozen snow, and the words from the song of Andrei Makarevich sounded in my head: "...It's good that there is this happiness way home in the world!”
