Dick Heacock's Bear Hunt
January 2, 1998
The following is a story written by Uncle Richard Heacock. It is a story about a 1957 bear-hunt in Alaska. He was accompanied by his son Dick (Richard Jr.) Heacock who recently sent me a copy of a typed version. Guess I figured that it would become more of a permanent record of our family history if I retyped it and sent to the family as computer text. You may wish to thank Dick for finding it and digging it out of his files. Guess now is a reasonably good time for him to do such tasks because he reports that it is about -30 F there in Fairbanks, AK - too cold to do much else. He lives there with Jo overlooking the Chena River. I have attempted to type it exactly as it came to me -- typos and punctuation intact. But, in the process of typing I felt a compulsion to make a couple of minor corrections which - I hope - have not compromised his writing style. Hope I did not add more mistakes than I corrected.
Winfield
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September 27, 1957
4012 Crescent Drive
Austin 2, Texas
OUR VACATION IN ALASKA
Dear Relatives and Friends:
NO OBLIGATION
One is not obliged to tell about his vacations, but we will be pleased to tell about this one. Perhaps the experiences can thus better be fixed in mind, and the telling seems to be one way of saying “thank you”. Understand, please, that you are not under obligation to read this. O.K.?
THE TRIP UP
We left Austin by Braniff August 28th, 5:34 p.m. We touched Dallas, Ft. Worth, Amarillo, Denver, and Seattle that night. Two hours nodding at Seattle’s Airport, then the Pan American to Annette Island, 200 miles South of Juneau. Juneau weather was bad, so PAA parked us in their Barracks Hotel with food and lodging paid by them. A 6-mile free trip to Metlakatla Indian village was gratis, too..although we hinted. Father Duncan established a democratic, self-governing village in the 1890's, or thereabouts. Neat, clean, industrious even today, with Community Church pastored by Methodist minister. Took pictures. We landed a day late at Juneau, with Dick and Ed Heinsohn to greet us. Only Dick knew Harriet was with me! Surprise! Juneau is more beautiful terraced on the mountains with its toes in Gastineau Channel than postcards show. The 10 miles in Dick’s ‘53 Plymouth (maybe ‘54) brought inlets, coves, creeks, mountains, spruce etc., lush vegetation and islands to view. We stopped at Salmon Creek just North of Juneau to see salmon fighting up the shallow creek to spawn. Salmon having done their duty against terrific odds floated back down dead. You can imagine the warm greetings at the parsonage! Edwina, Luanne, Lorelle, Linnea, Lavonne and Mrs. Heinsohn were there.
BRIEF GLIMPSE OF SCHEDULE
August 28 - left Austin. August 29 - stayed at Annette Island. August 30 - arrived in Juneau. September 1 - S.S. and Worship (Dick preached). September 2 - Picnic on Auke Bay with Heinsohns and Ed Stantons (Douglas Meth. preacher, wife, and children). September 3 - Heinsohns left for Austin. September 3 (5 p. m.) to September 7 - Hunt on Admiralty Island. September 8-14 - in Juneau: shopping, Official Board Retreat, picnic, visit to Mendenhall Glacier and farm for vegetables, my 6 hour hike alone to Peserverance Mine up Gold Creek, and Sunday worship, with R.K.Sr. preaching. September 16-20 - hunt on Chichagof Island (Kook Lake). September 21 - PAA to Austin, arriving Sunday September 22, 8:30 a.m.
JUNEAU AND DOUGLAS CHURCHES
Dick and Edwina love their Methodist flock. Many top leaders of Alaska are Methodists, and there are members in various “walks” and economic levels..people, all. The choir is tops. The building is old, and there’s talk of a new one. It’s downtown on valuable land. Juneau supports their pastor without mission aid. They pay home utilities, also. Dick leads a most helpful worship service, and preaches well prepared, earnest sermons. It is my feeling that he holds his own with the many college grads. The 2-9 p.m. Official Board Retreat was excellent. Top-flight governmental leaders spent those hours ON SATURDAY for their Church planning the year’s work! I was assigned the Finance Commission: resource person. Good “plugs” for the “Every Member Canvass” a la Board of Lay Activities were given, with yellow booklet passed around. I felt freedom in preaching on September 15th. Ed Stanton, Douglas, invited me to meet with his youth that night. Intermediates first, then Seniors. Discussion, fellowship, games, MYF Circle. Juneau has some splendid youth, some of whom will lead Alaska in good paths. It is good that Ed and Dick have each other for mutual fellowship and encouragement. Two fine, vigorous young men most any Church in Texas would be proud to have as leaders. Ed’s father is a D.S. in Washington.
OUR FIRST HUNT
Preparations for this and the second hunts had been going on for weeks. First talk of a “bear hunt” started by letter months before. Dick wrote suggestions about rifles, etc. He bought a 270, and I bought a 30-06 in Austin. By 5 p.m. September 3 Dick and I had assembled camping equipment: two packs with sacks, bed rolls, rain gear (hat, coat, pants, boots), knives, hatchet, extra round of clothing, food, matches, Coleman gas lantern, Coleman stove (tiny), mess kit assembly, camera, binoculars, rifles, ammunition, fire lighting sticks (for wet weather), oars, anchor, gun cleaning unit, first-aid kit, salt for bear hide (s), etc. The gang saw us off. The little two-ender (sharp at both ends), red and white, was really loaded. The rented 5 h.p. Johnson pushed it along the ? miles down Gasteneau Channel, around Douglas Island, and headed NW toward Young’s Point, Admiralty Cove, on Admiralty Island. It was dark when we sighted and approached Skull Island beyond Young Point. We couldn’t cross the channel between Skull Island (small) and the main island, so went around to the N. and W. We couldn’t find the cabin in the dark, so pitched camp on the beach. By morning the tide left our boat many yards up on dry land (rather, tide receding left the boat at same spot high and dry). We laughed when we saw the cabin only a few yards away among the trees. Oh, yes: we had rubber air mattresses, which were fine! We left the boat and our beds in the sun after having breakfast of coffee, postum, dried fruit, etc. With rifles, camera, binoculars and candy we struck out along the fringe of rain forest at the edge of the long and rather wide meadow of tall bear grass through which the winding Admiralty Creek made its way over the tidal flats and tidal creek bed.
BEAR SIGNS
Alaskans recommend having guides, even urge it. We had done a lot of talking with old timers, had read much, & had visited the bear-hunting Curator of the Alaska Museum at Juneau. Because of the cost of paying a guide, and because of the shortage of guides, we decided to go without one. In fact, we preferred being on our own. But we remembered the advice of old timers. We stayed together at all times. As we walked through the tall grass and along the winding, rushing, creek, we saw many bear tracks, large and small. Droppings were plentiful. Bones of salmon were much in evidence. Here and there were large patches of tall grass mashed down into the dirt by the huge brown bears at rest, sleeping, or waiting for another fishing spree among the salmon coming in at high tide. Although we expected momentarily to see brown bear, we did not. We walked too much, and doubtless the wind carried our man scent to sensitive noses. We did not expect to see deer, as they had “gone to the mountain tops.”
TWO MORE CABINS
Our initial hike introduced us to two more cabins within two miles of the first, near the beach. The second had about tumbled down, having seen better days years before. The third was new, an open-faced cabin built by Alaska Forestry Service. Logs made it sturdy. “This is ours”, we said. It was on the five-mile Young Trail from beach to Young’s Lake up in the mountain. Admiralty Creek ran by this newer cabin. Instead of retracing our steps through tall grass in the meadow, we went to the end of Young’s Trail and walked the beach toward our boat; but we found Admiralty Creek at its mouth an obstacle. We had crossed it at our new cabin, but at the mouth the depth was unknown. Dick started wading with his 14 inch boots. I began to strip to the waist, intending to carry clothing, camera, rifle and all above my head.
A ROUGH SWIM
One glance at Dick revealed him waist deep with rifle over his head. Another glance (as I undressed) showed only a red cap above water. Fully clothed, with rain clothing and boots, topped off with rifle, Dick had to swim a number of feet to the other bank. He called out, “better get back on high ground out of reach from this incoming tide. I’ll get the boat and come for you.” I did. He did. He changed clothing at our beach camp, hung his wet clothing on crotched sticks to dry, and put-putted around Skull Island. When he had me aboard we put-putted right back again to get our bedding and packs. Again we circled Skull Island into Admiralty Cove, finding a low tide, which meant that we had to carry our stuff 1/4 mile or so over tidal flats to hit the beach and the ½ mile Young’s Trail to our adopted cabin. We made a mistake: we left a short anchor rope on the anchor. I lifted the heavy anchor out of the boat and placed it in the shallow water (shallow then). We left the 22 rifle (forgot to mention that before), 50 lbs. of salt, the oars, life jackets, my 30-06 gun case, the motor and gas in the boat, taking to cabin everything else. We did not see the boat again until Friday. (6th) That was Wednesday morning, September 4th. We were highly pleased with the fine cabin, even though one end was open. It was not cold. The temperature range was an occasional 40 (early morning) to 65...mostly in 50s. A warm dinner hit the spot. This was great! A beautiful country, tall mountains, dashing streams, running salmon, huge bear tracks and other signs, lush vegetation, tall rain forest, a good companion, & tested high powered rifles. What a treat!
UP YOUNG’S TRAIL
With light packs, (next a.m.) minus bed rolls, we left our cabin for the 5-miles of Young’s Trail leading up the mountain to Young’s Lake and the cabin we noted on the map. If we had known how rugged would be the trip we’d have taken bed rolls. The faint winding trail (with old blaze marks made by hatchets) led us through an amazing rain forest wilderness of unspeakable beauty and grandeur. Dick insisted that I go first on the trail...that I could have the first shot at a bear. He may have thought, but did not state, that I could thus set my own pace. I had the feeling at all times of being with an equal, who regarded me as an equal...equal to the tough task of hiking with pack over rough terrain and feeling the soreness of muscles under strain. Did you ever see a rain forest? Walk on spongy ground made so by many feet of fallen vegetation? Ferns huge in size, and moss of many descriptions and colors? Fallen trees slippery with drizzle or rain? Stumps, dozens of them, covered with brown or greenish moss looking like big brown bears standing on hind legs? Huge spruce, mountain ash, pine and hemlock trees made a darkened forest. Blueberries, high-bush cranberries, gooseberries, thimbleberries, raspberries, trailing raspberries, dogwood berries and other berries were plentiful...most enjoyed by bear. Drizzle and rain made necessary our rubber clothing the whole trip up the mountain. We stopped two or three times beside noisy Admiralty Creek to watch for bear. Salmon slapped the water like rifle shots. A muskrat swam from place to place. Loon, herons, gulls, ravens, eagles and other birds.... including duck....made the place sound much as the Everglades must sound. The confounded ravens on spotting us would tell the whole forest of our presence, flying and squawking in excited, gossippy fashion.
YOUNG’S LAKE
The higher we got the more the rain. Five or six miles through jungle climbing over, under, and around fallen trees is work, and we were tired as we approached the beautiful lake nestled in the mountains. We had moved rather slowly, and had hunted every step of the way, but no brown bear...just plenty of signs. Some tracks must have measured 18 inches and more. Most were less. Our trail led us to Young’s Lake cabin, also open-faced (three sides with front open.) Other hunters, or fishermen, had left food. We knew we were too tired to make it back to our camp. We cut wood, cooked supper, and cut armloads of long ferns. We had no blankets. Two plastic sheets had been left. We placed one sheet on the stack of ferns on the dirt cabin floor, and covered ourselves with the other thin sheet. We wore all clothing, even rain clothes. I tied a paper sack over each boot, put some stray newspapers inside my pants, snuggled up next to Dick, and during the night we shifted positions together to conserve all possible body warmth. We did right well. That was our coldest night; must have been in the upper 30s. Getting cold feet, Dick built up a fire at 5 a.m.. We had a hot breakfast and started on the trail back to our lower cabin, hunting on and off the trail. Still plenty of signs, but we saw no bear. At 12:15 we returned. Before eating dinner we decided to check the boat, which we saw on Skull Island, 3/4 mile from where we left it. Since we’d have to cross Admiralty Creek to get the boat we came back to our cabin, (not before Dick took a shot at a seal about 150 yards away in Admiralty Cove waters; water splashed near the seal’s head. It disappeared, so we did not get another shot) to eat dinner and sleep some. Then we crossed the creek and walked through the bear grass the mile or so to the boat, finding the motor, the gas, oars, the 22, my gun case, and one seat cushion missing. The boat had some water in it. Someone had pulled in the anchor and put it in the boat, and had taken the boat to Skull Island and tied it to some big rocks. Twenty four miles from Juneau and no way to get home! Edwina would call the Coast Guard 7 a.m. Sunday morning. “We might as well hunt and have fun”. I then saw the dead seal on the tidal flat. Dick had sent a bullet through the center of the small head showing above water. A beautiful spotted hair seal it was...and legal game. We started skinning it. A small plane flew over, landing nearby. We walked to it, and Mr. Boddy, of the Juneau Civilian Rescue Service, told us that a Coast Guard man had found the boat with water in it, and some equipment, and had thought us drowned, or something. When we told Boddy that the motor and other equipment was missing he was very indignant. Neither he nor we knew then that Sparks, the lone goose-hunting Coast Guardsman, had removed the stuff. He promised to send the Coast Guard after us the next day. We finished skinning our seal and had supper.
WE WERE “RESCUED”
Confidentially, we were trying to beat the high tide in gathering darkness. After our most tiring 5-6 miles of hiking-hunting that morning we were fatigued, and found the heavy sealskin too heavy to carry through bear grass at a fast clip with the possibility of a brown bear rising up in the semi-darkness to challenge our way; so, regretfully we dropped the skin and beat the tide, crossed the creek without water getting over our boot tops, and rested peacefully on our air mattresses in our sleeping bags. While at late breakfast two coast guardsmen arrived, one carrying a 30-06 bolt action rifle as protection against brown bear. The “95 Footer” was out in Admiralty Cove with 14 men aboard. Two men and a light dinghy with 5 h.p. motor took us to launch our own boat, towing it behind to the 95 Footer. So, in style were the two hunters brought back to Juneau, as many other hunters and fishermen are brought back (some in real need, and other in less need) to port. Imagine our chagrin and disgust on discovering that Sparks had brought our stuff back to Juneau. Ed Stanton traced him and the equipment. We would have appreciated his leaving the motor and oars in the boat so that we could return as we had arrived, with our own power! We accepted being rescued with as much grace as we could muster, not diluting our expressions of thanks with the whole content of our feelings and minds. Well, we had the fun of riding a Coast Guard ship under interesting circumstances. Officers told us, “We bring ’em back often. Don’t worry, you’re paying for it!” Our wives WERE greatly worried for several hours until Mr. Boddy phoned news of seeing us and talking to us. Thanks to the seal that kept us in the open at the right time.
AN INTERESTING WEEK IN JUNEAU
Side excursions spiced September 8-16. Dick had to get ready for the Official Board Retreat, but took us to Auke Bay for a picnic and clam hunt. An open-faced cabin with fireplace overlooking the beautiful bay and backed by spruce and hemlock delighted us. After supper we sang. Dick, with lantern, looked for squirting clams.
Harriet, the four L’s and I visited Mendenhall Glacier a few miles N.E. of Juneau. We stopped at a farm on the way back to buy fresh vegetables: carrots, cabbage, lettuce, beets and turnips. I took a picture of a 7 pound turnip, and three granddaughters sat back of one cabbage in the patch; a little more stooping and they would have been hidden. How things grow in Alaska in the summer! Dairy cattle cannot catch up with the tall grass. Winter is another story.
One day I took my shotgun and camera on a six-hour hike up Gold Creek to Peseverance Mine N.E. of Juneau. I always wore my rubber boots, all 12 inches of them. Actually I wore them over my oxfords. It was wet, as usual. I met no one. Let your imagination conjure up a fantastic combination of mountain, dashing creek, waterfalls, gentle brooks, tiny springs and streams, berry bushes, tall trees, gorges, mountain trails, abandoned mines, a three-story miners’ (home) almost straight up on a mountain ridge (accessible by mine shaft), abandoned mining buildings and equipment..... these and other items.....and you’ll have a memorable solo hike, as I did. There were tunnels and shafts I did not see. Miles of such.
CHICHAGOF ISLAND AND ANOTHER HUNT
We wanted another crack at the brown bear of Alaska. An old timer, invited by Claudia Kelsey and Bea Shepperd to their house the evening we all were invited for supper, told us about Chichagof Island and Kook Lake just off Basket Bay. He had helped build a small cabin near the lake. Say, we had a grand evening at Claudia’s and Bea’s home. They’ve been in Alaska several years, Claudia is an artist, and Bea a business woman. Claudia has a collection of dolls that would flabbergast Santa himself. She produces Christmas cards and other kinds of cards and letters with unique and beautiful Alaskan figures: people and animals. Bea helps with printing, but works downtown during the day. We asked Claudia, if she would, to prepare a tailor-made Christmas card for us for this year.
Dick and I went slightly over 66 pounds baggage each for our plane trip to Kook Lake. $22 each a round trip was not at all bad. The pilot flits his twin-motored plane over land, water and over mountains with reassuring dexterity. He roared into the beautiful two mile-long Kook Lake like a huge goose, sending spray for yards. The last few yards he floated, with motors stilled, into shallow water, where we unloaded our gear from the plane’s nose, waved goodbye, and found ourselves in one of the most spectacularly beautiful and lonely places we have ever seen. The lake lies between two steep mountain slopes running the whole length of the lake. Two main creeks and several lesser ones run into the lake at the West end. The lake overflows into a creek at the East end that ducks underground three times before flowing into Basket Bay and salt water. Salmon know their way up that steep creek, the rapids, and into Kook Lake. We were to see them fighting the last steep foot..many of them falling back to try again. Well, we carried our gear into a 10X12 (or so) little green plywood cabin under two huge hemlock trees. It stood on the edge of the rain forest, dense, and with the usual springy floor.
KOOK LAKE AND A WILD PARADISE
There were four plank bunks, nails, some food, a double bit axe, a single bit one, and a hand axe. An old woolen jacket had been left, which Dick wore several times. A small green boat with oars and anchor was tied in the dancing ice-cold creek running a few feet from our cabin. We looked at each other and grinned with delight. After hanging up some equipment, blowing up air mattresses, rolling out our sleeping bags for use, checking the rather generous supply of food others had left ...yea, and utensils ...we sized up the place. Drinking water was 20 feet away in the creek. Wood was plentiful for the cutting, though other campers had left a good stack.
DICK TRIES THE BOAT
Dick tried fishing from the boat while I sat not far away under cover near the mouth of the largest Creek waiting for a bear to show up. Tracks were plentiful. Remains of eaten salmon were about. Following the advice of a Juneau hunter, we sat near the mouth of the large salmon creek from 3 until 8 waiting for bear. Dick saw a bear ½ mile East on the lake shore. A warm supper, and bed.
BROWN BEAR APPEARS
I was half aware that Dick had slid out of his bed and was walking the cabin floor in longies and socks. His whisper roused me: “Dad, get up; there’s a bear right out there in front of the cabin. Get up!” As usual the zipper on my bed roll was obstinate, which lost me several seconds! I slid out of a partly unzipped bag, reached for my glasses and rifle, shivered in the 40 degree morning air as, clad only in underwear and socks, I saw, through the pane of glass in the cabin door, a large patch of brown hair go behind the bushes toward the North. I had to see that critter to shoot, and he was moving right along. The do when hungry and looking for fish. By the time I got out where I could see around the bushes the brownie must have been 75 yards down the shore. I aimed at the receding rear end and fired. With the roar of the 30-06 the bear (which must have weighed about 600 - 700 pounds) took one long lunge into the rain forest and was out of sight. If I hit him it was not in a vital spot. I missed my best chance. Dick could have killed it easily, but with sportsmanlike restraint insisted that I “get the first bear”. There was not a hint of reproach from my hunting pardner; reproaches came from me. We drowned our sorrows in pancakes and syrup. Then we fished. We caught several beautiful brook trout, cut-throat trout, and trout whose names we did not know. We stopped because we could not eat more than we caught. That was Tuesday, September 17. We hunted from 3-8 again that afternoon, but saw only bear further down the lake on the shore. They appeared to be black. Dick was the cook. I washed dishes, cut wood, carried water, and otherwise tried to carry at least part of the responsibilities of camp life. We had good food.
FISHING THRILLS
Wednesday morning we fished again at the mouth of big creek where salmon jumped. Three big fellows had either thrown the plugs or broken them, then I snagged a big, beautiful King salmon. The light rod and 2# line were under real strain. I adjusted the reel carefully so he could run without breaking the line. For minutes we fought, then I eased the 10# beauty to shore. We had several pounds of him baked in foil for dinner! The rest we took back to Juneau. We had a string hanging in the cool shade back of the cabin. We still hunted again that afternoon without luck, although we another bear or two out of range.
WE EXPLORE THE LAKE BY BOAT
In leisurely fashion Dick rowed the 2 miles down the lake. I trolled, catching several cutthroat trout. Then we found two places to sit in the tall grass under trees on a small, island at the Eastern end of Kook Lake where the lake spills into the creek in a rapids. The water around the island is shallow, and there were lots of bear signs. Red headed Merganser (sp.?) ducks.......but wait! I forgot to say that when we had gotten about 200 yards or more from the West end of the lake, just out from our cabin, a black colored bear walked out of the forest near our cabin and started toward the creek in front of our cabin. The boat was tossing a bit, and the bear was walking, but I slid to the bottom of the boat for the best sighting possibility, aimed and fired. Dick said the bear flinched. I should have gotten in another quick shot, but didn’t. He, too, was soon in the forest. Then I said, “Dick, I’ve had two chances now. You get the next!” Now back to the island. We had fun watching the gulls, ravens, eagles, and ducks. They were around us. One little water bird I thought to be a young gull took a fancy to me. He seemed to be showing off as he paraded in front of me in shallow water catching gnats, minnows, taking a bath as he’d seen the ducks dive and splash. I got out of sight once in tall grass, and here he came swimming toward me, craning his neck. He seemed to say, “Oh, there you are!” Once a raven bombed him from on high. He cocked his head on one side and reflected, “That’s not ‘Pennies from Heaven’”.
DICK GETS A BEAR
At six or later we decided we’d better allow two hours for rowing back to our cabin. I rowed going back. “Keep a watch for bear, Dick, as this is their fishing time. They seem to roam the lake shore.” At about the same moment Dick pointed silently ahead and to the left. A bear was walking away from us on the shore, going West. With my back to the West I rowed, following Dick’s silent directions. I tried not to splash water, and I increased speed. The bear disappeared around a point of shoreline, and Dick indicated that I should stop rowing and let the boat drift. We drifted beyond the point, and on looking to the South on shore I saw a black colored bear holding a big salmon with his paws and storing up weight for hibernation. When the boat came to a silent stop Dick took aim and fired. Fortunately the lake was still. The bear stood, and Dick fired a second time with his .270. The bear dropped. I rowed over to shore. We were cautious, but saw the puddle of blood having drained from the head. He breathed his last, and we approached. We thought it to be a black bear since it was coal black, but its head and feet seemed to differ from those of black bear we had seen in the museum in Juneau. It must have weighed between 350 and 400 pounds. I took a flash shot with my Argus C-3 before we moved him. We tried lifting him into the boat by each grabbing a large foreleg. Impossible. I tied the anchor rope around his chest, and we tried lifting him by each grasping an oar inserted under the rope. The oar broke. We finally got him in the boat and started for camp a mile and a half down the lake. It was dark. Dick used the broken oar, and I used the good one. We hit our own creek in the darkness, and were thankful. We waited until morning to skin the bear. I congratulated Dick on his marksmanship. He had hit the seal in the middle of its head at 150 yards. He had plugged the bear between the eyes on the first shot, and had centered the second shot as the bear presented his rear end. “Dead eye Dick” was used several times.
FISHING WITH PLIERS
We supplemented our corned beef supper with something warm, talked about the day’s experiences, and hit the sack. We continued our custom of giving thanks before meals, taking turns. We found ourselves thanking God for the beauties of that place, the experiences, and asked Him to take care of our loved ones and our flocks. I was up first Friday morning. I had dreamed that several huge brown bears had eaten up Dick’s bear. On walking to the boat I saw that I had only dreamed. Then I saw that the 5 and 6 pound salmon living off minnows coming down our creek had changed their fishing tactics. Two big fellows had moved up under the front of our boat and were catching minnows from their hiding places. I asked Dick about pliers. Armed so I slipped into the creek next to our boat and waited until a large tail appeared from under the boat. I clamped hard and gave a pull, the fish slid out on the bank yards away. I hurried over grabbed him by the mouth with my pliers and carried him flopping and thrashing into the cabin for Dick to see from his bed. I had had little idea that salmon have such narrow but powerful mouths. They have teeth with are sharp.
WE SKIN THE BEAR AND GO HOME
We rowed our boat down the shore away from the cabin, dumped the bear on slick, wet rocks, and tackled a new job...skinning a bear. Our knives were sharp, but we took our time. Dick did most of the work, the hardest parts being the head and feet. The claws were left attached, with the last toe joints. We salted the skin, cut off hindquarters for eating, tied all with rope, and prepared the whole for carrying by plane back to Juneau. The plane was to pick us up at 1:15 p.m. We were ready by then, with all our gear, fish, and bear skin and meat on shore. The plane was over an hour late, so we half expected to have to wait until Monday. Dick made a fire and started baking biscuits. The plane roared overhead, buzzing us. It splashed, taxied toward us, then with motors silenced floated gently toward shallow water. “Where’s the game”, grinned the pilot. Dick pointed to the bundle of skin and meat. In 45 minutes we had soared over mountains, lakes, and channels and had splashed the pontoons into Gasteneau Channel at Juneau. Our families, plus the Stantons, again were the welcoming party. The neighbor children all decided to take a “look at the bear”. We tried to share some of our experiences in broken doses, as interruptions come when there are four small children who have many neighborhood friends.
WE FLY HOME
As we came, so we returned: by plane. At the airfield Dick discovered from the Curator of the Museum that there are no black bear on Admiralty or Chicagof Islands. He had killed a young brownie...a black brownie. You’ll have to write the Museum at Juneau for explanations. Mr. _____ (and I’m sorry I don’t remember his name) can give you the technical names. Imagine leaving Juneau at noon and arriving in Austin at 8:30 the next morning! We are thankful! And now to work. We had a thrilling and satisfying vacation.
Love,
Richard & Harriet
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Note by WLS: (also 1/1/98)
Attached to the copies of this story that I received from Dick was an item in the Juneau Empire newspaper dated 9/9/57:
COAST GUARD REPORTS TWO ASSISTANCE CASES
The Coast Guard reported the following assistance cases occurred over the week end in Southeastern Alaska.
A 14-foot outboard boat was found submerged Friday afternoon in Admiralty Cove, Admiralty Island. The boat contained life jackets, fishing poles and a rifle. The Coast Guard was contacted and attempts were made to locate the owner. Rev. Edmund Stanton called to report that the boat belonged to he and Rev. R. K. Heacock, Jr. Rev. Heacock and his father had left Juneau Tuesday to hunt. The missing hunters were located by Bud Boddy at the Forest Service shelter. The 95-footer returned them and their boat to Juneau on Saturday morning.
Saturday, the FV Zodiac Light, disabled due to engine trouble, was towed from the vicinity of Hutchison Reef buoy to safe moorage at Kodiak by the Cutter Bittersweet.
Also attached to this story were photos of RKH, Sr. in his WWI army uniform, a photo of RKH and his brothers and sisters, and a photo of the RKH, Jr. family.
