Full of adrenaline we were up early the next morning. The north latitude dawn reached out and stroked our senses.  Mist tentacles rose like apparitions, ephemeral, silver and boiling from the myriad of water surfaces around camp.  They writhed, pulsed and seethed along the shore lines of the river, played hide and seek in the stands […] Read more »

Three of us were armed, though barely. Steve, Rhett, and I chugged across the river with our guide, Kerry in the camp’s little homemade plywood boat. We scraped up on angular rocks at the rivers opposite edge behind some brushy bogs. The three of us followed the guide as he moved with stealth behind rocks and areas of […] Read more »

The flight to Camp Reále was punctuated with excited anticipation. The six of us exchanged stories, laughs, and got to know one another. We became good friends over the course of the coming days. It is likely that we will hunt with several of them again. For some reason I thought that the tundra was […] Read more »

Well, not quite. Our final destination was a tiny outpost called Camp Reále, one thousand miles north of Quebec and one hundred and fifty miles south of the Artic Circle. Hiccups of the previous several days were behind us. Our travel to Montreal and hook-up with the outfitting company had been smooth. In Montreal we […] Read more »