A Trip of a Lifetime

By Rodney Brintle
Kansas City, KS

Even though it has been eleven years, I still relive the experience in my mind several times a year. I was sixteen years old, and my parents had saved all year long so all three of us could make the hunt. My mom and I would try to harvest our first black bear. My dad had hunted with Wilderness Air twice before. He had hunted Solitary Lake and thought that was as close to heaven as he had been.

We arrived at Wilderness Air and unloaded our things on to the bush plane. Being somewhat sheltered, five out of six of us had never flown before. Nothing like watching Mom turn green. We saw bear and moose while flying to the cabin. The view from the plane is worth the trip.

When we landed, I jumped straight into the boat and started fishing. Fishing in Canada can ruin a Midwestern fisherman like myself. Fishing at home has produced plenty of unfruitful trips. Not the great North, I wore out new buzzbaits on the Pike and went through bags of double twister tales on Walleye. With the fishing urge cured in a couple of hours it was time to set bear baits and our stands.

Dad and I picked a spot quite a distance down one of the streams. We got our stands set and looked around at all the bear sign. The bait was about 30 yards from my stand and Dad set his stand about 80 yards from me. We had been in the stand about 45 minutes when I heard something crashing. Always told that bear are silent, I dismissed the clatter as a moose. I turned around to find a 325-pound bear standing upright sniffing the air on the other side of the creek.

Being 16 and this all happening within my first five hours in Canada was nearly too much. I could hear my own heart beating. I slowly turned and took aim with my rifle that my dad had always used. I fired and the bear fell in his tracks. Still to this day, I have never felt the excitement and feelings I had that day. Dad yelled and asked if the bear was down and made his way to my stand. I got down and pointed out my first bear. Dad smiled and shook my hand and said the rifle was now mine. He had shot his first bear with it. For the first time in my life I stood on the bank of that creek not as a wondering kid. I felt like a man.

Taking that bear and Dad giving me his rifle meant so much to me. It was a feeling only beaten by the birth of my son. I hope someday to stand on that same creek and hand that rifle to my son. The trip is truly an overload to your senses, with the beautiful scenery and loads of wildlife. I will never forget that trip and hope I can take my family there soon. Thanks Bob for the life long memories!!!

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