You see them come and you see them go but at first glance you knew this young man was ready to rock and roll and that he knew his craft, he knew how to hunt. He came to Newfoundland to hunt moose with his father, Steve, and his friend, Max. This was his first guided hunt outside of his homeland and he did not know exactly what to expect but whatever it was he was ready for it. Jeremy Robertson is from Indiana and ironically many of the people from Newfoundland and those from Indiana have a lot in common. Jeremy took his living from the land and the guides at camp took theirs from the sea. In both cases you get up early and you put in a good day’s work, whether at sea or on the land.
I have been outfitting since the early 90’s and I had the pleasure of being this young man’s guide. In his late 20’s and weighing 200 lbs there was not an ounce of fat on his six foot frame. Early mornings and long days on the farm prepared him for whatever the hunt demanded. You fly to camp one day and you hunt the next. It is an opportunity for the hunters to get an appreciation for the terrain and for them to get to know their guides.
The hunt was at Indian Pond and although they chose to hunt early in the season when the weather is generally good, in Newfoundland there are no guarantees. Indian Pond has a fiord-like appearance and at first glance you realize that glacial action as recent as 18,000 years ago carved this masterpiece. Erosion has yet to fully smoothen the landscape and the towering hills and cliffs which adorn the lake make for spectacular scenery; the forested areas in the lowlands are a haven for moose.
The night before the hunt was to begin, a southeasterly wind steadily strengthened to a 40 to 60 knot gale as the winds funneled through the gorge. Heavy rains, more horizontal than vertical in direction, pounded the lodge and the wave action in the lake made it unsafe to utilize the boats. The clock was set two hours prior to dawn but there was no need. The guides at camp know the importance of getting up early and being in the field at first light. At 4 o’clock as I made my way out to start the generator so that breakfast could be prepared, I greeted Jeremy as he sat in the darkness impatiently waiting for the hunt to begin. I was greeted with “phew man” an expression that would come to characterize the hunt. I had drifted in and out of sleep for some time and came to realize that one of the hunters, JR, had difficultly sleeping and could not wait for daylight and for the hunt to begin.
The aroma of perked coffee, toast, fried bacon and eggs permeated the lodge and after a hearty breakfast JR, his father and Max were ready to set out. The weather dictated otherwise however. The guides consulted each other, checked the weather and decided to sit for awhile and wait for conditions to improve. We hunt in all weather conditions in Newfoundland but when safety becomes an issue it is much wiser to “put up for a bit” as we say. The hunters were pumped, adrenalin flowing and the thirst for the hunt insatiable. You could see the element of disappointment in their eyes, especially JR’s, when they were told that we were going to sit this one out.
Early morning dragged on with not much improvement in the elements. By mid-morning however, there were some indications that the worst was over and things were about to get a little better. I nonchalantly began preparing a lunch and putting my pack together. I checked my gear, jumped in my camo, checked the weather and as I threw my pack over my shoulder I asked JR if he intended to go hunting with me or was he going to stay at camp for the remainder of the day. He was curious for some time as to why I was shuffling about. For the others who planned to utilize the boats for the hunt, safety was still a factor and they had to continue to wait it out. My plans were to leave on foot, “shanks mare” as we call it. Upon asking Jeremy what his intentions were his face lit up and he leapt from his chair, grabbed his jacket and in seconds was out the door rifle in hand.
My initial plan for the first day was to head to and hunt the perimeter of Squaw Lake. Squaw Lake is another significant water body approximately a two hour hike in a northwest direction. I had hunted the area the previous year and sighted a number of trophy class animals. Moose are not to any degree transient and most of the time they live out their life in a predefined area. Nothing within our hunting area would push the animals out. They have an abundant food source and given the area has been classified as a Wilderness Reserve there is absolutely no interference from man. It was a very good chance that the moose I spotted a year previous would be in the same general location, at least that is what I was hoping for.
We had to rethink our plan however, given that our day had been shortened because of weather and we had to make sure that we did not stray any great distance from camp. Even though the weather had improved it could worsen at any moment and in such cases a two hour hike back to the lodge would be onerous and challenging. We decided to hunt the terrain directly behind camp and concentrate on the base of the mountain to our left. A bull was spotted from camp the previous day and it was my intention to check to see if he was still there and just how big he was. Twenty minutes from camp we stopped at our first vantage point and glassed a small valley that ran from the mountain’s summit to its base. The valley was wooded on the side opposite us and provided good habitat for our quarry. After exhausting every corner our glasses would permit us to and not spotting anything we decided to push on. It took us another 20 – 30 minutes to reach our second vantage point. The leeward side of a rocky knoll offered some protection from the wind and a good location to glass a significant area. On a couple of occasions I thought that I heard something other than the wind but was unsure. It wasn’t long however when both of us heard a discernible and unmistaken crack. Directly behind us was what we call in Newfoundland “an island of scrub” and as I turned to Jeremy I pointed and whispered “he is right there”. We had to move a couple of hundred feet to a little higher ground to get a visual and sure enough we could glimpse the antlers no more the 35 yards from us. It was a nine pointer, mid 30’s in width with some palmation. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere and we watched him for some time. Jeremy pondered whether or not he should take him but in the end we watched him run off, his head held high and his jaunt grandeur. The boys at camp did get to utilize the boats and motor to the other end of the lake where Steve took his moose. Given the extreme weather conditions, a very exciting and successful day one.
Day two began much like day one. The winds, however, did not carry with it the same degree of pounding rain and conditions improved rather quickly. Despite a short delay we were trekking off, destination Squaw Lake. The first leg would carry us over the same terrain that we had hunted the day prior and as we passed the location where we stalked the moose both of us reflected on the previous day’s experience and the majesty of the bull we set free. A few thousand feet beyond that point we found another location that offered shelter and a point where we could glass a smaller lake and significant valley. We were not there very long before we spotted a cow moose leave the security of her cover and take off in the opposite direction. The wind was swirling in every which way and she obviously picked up our scent and decided that she should get out of there. We continued to hunt the base of the mountain which offered ideal moose habitat. It was our intentions to hike along in a southwesterly direction and then swing directly north and intercept the lower end of Squaw. We had started in this new direction and gotten to a little higher ground when we spotted a nice bull behind us on the open highlands.
My immediate expression was one of frustration. The moose, although a good distance off, was directly down wind and there was very little vegetation we could use to our advantage. We watched him move in the general direction of the hunting lodge and all of a sudden he dropped in a hollow and out of sight. I put my hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and said “now is our chance, come on”. We pushed hard to get to the opposite side of a ridge so that we could conceal our movement and to a position whereby we could get downwind. There was a chance that he would catch our scent but I was banking that the high winds and the fact that the moose was in a hollow would work to our advantage. It was a long shot but it was our only chance. The bull was in no hurry when we first spotted him so we stood a chance of cutting him off at a predetermined rendezvous, even though we had to circle our prey to do so. After about 30 minutes we crested the hill to where we thought we would spot him again. Nothing. We pushed on a little further until we came to a small stand of fledgling juniper. I decided to sit for a bit so I pulled off my pack and told JR to get comfortable. We were on the opposite side of the small lake where we had spotted the cow earlier in the day and between us and the pond there was a “droke” of woods. I was thinking that the moose could not have gone far and if we were patient enough we could catch glimpse of him again. We were in the middle of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I turned to Jeremy and said “there he is, get ready to shoot”. JR asked what the distance was and I immediately stated 175 yards. The moose was at the periphery of the trees and even though I had a rangefinder there was no time to use it. With one step the moose would be gone and our opportunity lost. Jeremy shot and the moose was as surprised as he was. I told him to relax and chamber again. This time his aim was true and the big bull dropped to the ground. The distance was actually 183 yards and his 30-06 with the recommended 180 grain Hornady bullet did the job.
By the time JR got his moose it was mid afternoon. We caped and cleaned the animal and headed back to camp with the trophy. We would wait until the next day to retrieve the meat. The weather eventually changed for the better with beautiful sunny days for the remainder of the week and into the next. Max took his moose by the side of the lake early Wednesday morning and the following week everyone was successful on Monday. Ironically I never go to hunt Squaw Lake but we did get the opportunity to hike to the area the later part of the second week. My inclinations were correct as we spotted several large bulls and amongst them some recognizable trophies. Well there is always next year.
Tremendous guides, high success rates and quality animals are what set Sou’wester and Caribou Valley apart. Deposits to book your hunt can be placed on your chargecard. If looking for additional information or to book simply give Dean a call toll free at 1-877-751-1681 or email at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Meet The Owner
Dean Wheeler has been outfitting since the early 1990’s and together with his wife, Bonnie, they own and operate both Sou’wester Outfitting and Caribou Valley Outfitters. An industry advocate who is respected among his peers for providing a quality hunting experience, Dean is the current President of the Newfoundland and Labrador Outfitters Association.
“Thank you for an incredible experience! I’ve shared with several men back here that if they want basically a “sure thing” hunt… Dean’s place is the place. I’ve know guys who’ve paid a lot to come back empty handed. The only way I can imagine that happening at Dean’s place is if you can’t shoot! Which was a challenge for me since I hadn’t shot a gun in 20 years. Just bows for me… but I’m glad that I switched to a gun!”
The following article appeared in Bowhunter Magazine and was written by Steven Michelucci. Steve set out to book a hunt solely through the Internet. This is how he did it. .COM HUNTING was his first story for Bowhunter.COM
I LIVE IN CALIFORNIA, and I have hunted most of the Western states for big game. But I had always dreamed about hunting in Alaska or Canada, specifically for moose and caribou. When I’m not hunting, I spend a lot of time reading magazines, watching hunting videos, and practicing with my bow. I finally decided it was time for me to travel up North and hunt with the big boys.
Now I needed to find where to go, and whom to hunt with. But how? I started by asking my hunting buddies, archery club members, and local archery pro shop owners for referrals. Almost everyone recommended an outfitter. So, with my list of names in hand, I began making phone calls for the hunt of a lifetime. Grudgingly I left messages with most of the outfitters, because no one was there to take my call. I waited and waited for return messages, but not one outfitter returned a call.
Step two. I wrote inquiries, and after a few weeks I received a brochure from an outfitter in Canada. It was poorly printed and contained very little useful information and a few pictures of rifle hunters with their game.
How did these friends of mine ever book a hunt with the outfitters they had recommended? I should mention that I began this process a full year ahead of the fact. So this was not a problem with procrastination. I always like to have all my arrows in the quiver, so to speak, as early as possible.
Anyway, after several weeks with the same results, I began to feel that my dream hunt was just that — a dream. But wait! What’s on my wife’s desk? A computer? Could this intimidating tool really help me locate an outfitter up North?
“Honey, how do I turn this thing on?” I pleaded.
With a half hour of instruction from my lovely wife, I was ready to “surf the web.” And surf I did, locating an outfitter, booking my hunt to Newfoundland, Canada, and, to top it off, making all of my travel arrangements.
Complicated? No. Simple? YES! Let me explain how I planned the easiest hunt of my life.
After connecting to the Internet — it’s called “logging on” for those of you who know as little as I did –– I clicked my way to a search engine. I used several “search engines,” such as www.excite.com; www.google.com; and www.yahoo.com. Another good one is www.metacrawler.com. Each search page has a blank box into which you type the desired subject. I typed in “moose and caribou hunting,” and clicked on the search button. You could type in “whitetail hunting”, or whatever species that interests you. To my amazement, a list of about 20 outfitters came up. All of those listed had websites that contained photos and full descriptions of each outfitter’s services. They listed available booking dates, costs, and in some cases, maps and testimonials from previous hunters. They all listed e-mail addresses for correspondence.
Immediately, I began determining who could provide my kind of hunt and then e-mailed the appropriate outfitters a descriptive list of my wants and needs. Now get this — they all replied! While I had been keeping myself in the computer dark ages, these outfitters had passed me by.
After some communication via e-mail, I was drawn to Dean and Bonnie Wheeler, of Sou’ Wester Outfitting, in Newfoundland. Sou’ Wester offered a one-on-one guiding from a remote lodge nestled on Loon Lake, some 100 kilometers by floatplane from any road. At the lodge, they provided a cook, private bunkroom, and hot showers. Sign me up! Most importantly, their lodge sat smack dab in the middle of some fantastic moose and caribou country.
Via e-mail, Dean provided me with a list of previous hunters and their phone numbers. After talking to many of these hunters, and getting many glowing reports, I booked a fourteen-day hunt during the archery-only season — without ever speaking to Dean or Bonnie. I sent them my deposit, and shortly after, via snail mail, received my confirmation. It was too easy!
Now I had to arrange travel and lodging. Remember, I live in California and had to cross North America to reach Newfoundland. Should I call a travel agent? Not a chance. Now I live in cyberspace! Through a website called www.cheaptickets.com I booked my air travel. It simply required typing in my departure city and date, and my arrival city and date; selecting round trip; and clicking on the “find fare” button. Within seconds, www.cheaptickets.com located all the airlines traveling to my destination and listed them beginning with the lowest fare. I then purchased the tickets with a major credit card, and the tickets arrived at my front door via overnight delivery. Ah, modern conveniences.
Needing lodging in Montreal for one night each way, I pulled up a website called www.expidite.com. Once again, I typed in my reservation dates and secured them with a credit card. The hotel e-mailed me a confirmation notice, and that was that.
Within a couple of weeks I had booked a hunt to Canada and had arranged air travel and hotel accommodations with only the computer, the Internet and a credit card. The first time I spoke directly with my outfitter was when we met in Corner Brook, Newfoundland.
Did I have any problems? To the contrary, the whole trip went great with only one small change. Air Canada cancelled their direct flight from Montreal to Deer Lake, Newfoundland, and I had to make a short stopover in Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was one of my smoothest trips ever. The only thing I did not arrange directly by computer was my lodging at The Adams House bed and breakfast the night before flying into hunting camp. Dean and Bonnie Wheeler lined that up for me.
To top it off, I took a fine woodland caribou stag. And it was my choice not to arrow a moose. In eight days of moose hunting, I spotted seven moose and stalked two young bulls. The big bulls were holed up in the timber due to unseasonably warm weather prior to the rut, and I decided to hold out. But I’ll go back. Not only, are there an abundance of moose, but every day we spotted 20 or more caribou stags in ideal conditions for stalking with bow and arrow.
If you ever hunt with the Wheelers, don’t forget your fishing gear. Loon Lake is full of brook trout, and the river flowing from the lake has Atlantic salmon swimming up its current during bow season.
Having trouble lining up long-distance bowhunts? Have your wife (or kids) show you how to turn on the computer, and start your research. Some really great trips are only a .com away.
The following article was written by Peter Bercik. Peter’s accomplishments in life are many, from being a commercial pilot with over 13,000 flying hours to serving as CEO of a chain of technical institutes throughout the United States and Canada. A past that also involved a stint with nationally televised news and production. He has written many articles on education, produced TV motion pictures and audio visual productions.
Peter is an avid hunter who has hunted throughout the United States and Canada. At age 74 he looks back with the memories of 60 years of happy hunts.
A Father And Son … Re-bonding in a Newfoundland Hunt
Lief Erickson proclaimed it over 1,000 years ago a “New Found Land”. Home of the “Newfies”, thousands of moose, caribou, large coyotes, ptarmigan, geese, and featuring some of this hemisphere’s finest fishing for Arctic Char, Atlantic Salmon, lake and brook trout, halibut, herring, mackerel, smelt and capelin on the short list.
Lief Erickson had to have been one of the hardiest of pioneers, navigating his long boat through the ice burgs and treacherous waters of the North Atlantic, his anchorage points are still etched into the rocks of his initial landing at L’Anse au Meadows, the Northern most point of Newfoundland. There’s evidence that the Norsemen also traveled west through the waters of the Great Lakes all the way to Alexandria, Minnesota. This landmass of Newfoundland is the eastern most part of the North American Continent. The dawn of day breaks there in a time zone 2 ½ hours from New York City!
As human beings, we look back in self-examination with the wisdom of hindsight and lament over the would’ves, could’ves and should’ves, with the keen perspective of the 20/20 vision called hindsight. Now being a 74 year old, ex-businessman and still inebriated with a lifetime passion for hunting and fishing, my perspective for the sport is now better than a 20/20 vision. Without regrets, I reminisce with fondness, how my one son, Brian (now a middle aged 47 year old man), caught his first Blue Gill at aged six and continued that joyful sport well into his adulthood. I also fondly reminisce about my two sons, Brian and Mark, getting their first deer and the follow up yelps of joy and their ear-to-ear smiles. My then 17 year old son Brian took the spent cartridge from his 30-30 Winchester and had his “true love’ make him a pendant to proudly wear on his neck (he wore it so long, we got tired of looking at it). The thrill of their first kill is permanently etched into their neural circuitry and now they can enjoy it for a lifetime. The anti-gun and anti-hunting establishments are in an alien world of virtual reality.
Now back to Lief Erickson’s discovery, “New Found Land”. Why have I, in the autumn, sunset years of my life chose to become an avid fan of now what has become my “New Found Land”? Having been an outdoorsman since 12 years of age (1942), I can recollect with the keen vision of hindsight, the evolution of my life’s recreational passion (the good and the bad and how this “New Found Land” has re-ignited the passion of my youth).
My childhood environment was in a second-generation Slovak family in Donora, Pennsylvania (home of Stan Musial, Arnold Galiffa, Bimbo Ciconni, “ Deacon” Dan Towler, Richard and Bernard Bercik, all super champions who helped to rename Donora, Pennsylvania the “home of champions”). Being second generation Slovaks my family were basically from European peasant stock, strong, industrious, hard working, god fearing and a strong emphasis on family values.
But no one hunted, owned a gun or went fishing, no one played any type of music, wrote or read poetry, literature, etc. At age eight I wanted to learn to play the accordion and did so … well enough to play on the local radio station (Saturday Morning Slovak Hour) for several years. Being young, our favorite games were “hide and go seek”, “cowboys and Indians”, and “cops and robbers”. To play cowboys and Indians and cops and robbers we made our own guns, double action, wood guns with slices of inner tubes from truck tires. We even put a knot in the middle to give it a real wallop. The trigger was a flat stick held in place by two strong rubber bands wrapped completely around “the weapon” (Thank God Barbara Boxer, Diane Finestein, Sheila Jackson Lee, weren’t around to propose anti-rubber band guns in the hand of irresponsible pre-teenagers). My buddies even enjoyed making a double action wooden rifle that stretched the rubber “bullets” even longer. Wow! Did they sting … (now all is politically incorrect as government now legislates morality caloric intake, seat belts, helmets, and legislates God and the bible out of the classroom and our country).
But those were the days of WWII when our gallant men were trying to make the world “safe for democracy” and our gallant women did double duty as “Rosie the Riveter” and as W.A.F’s and W.A.C’s and W.A.V.E’s and as ferry pilots crossing the oceans to resupply our airmen with bombers. Ours was a nation in defense of a “world under siege”, determined that the axis powers would not prevail in their determined quest for world domination. America was determined, united and mobilized.
Now with the wisdom of hindsight, compare that to the Wahabbist, the Jihadists, and the wild-eyed Mullahs who want to destroy the entire western civilization, the Catholics, the Christians, and the Jews must all be eliminated in the name of Allah and Islam must be established as a world religion (what a scenario for WWIII). During the world conflict of WWII it was great that we as Americans had the right to own and possess guns, as our right guaranteed by the Constitution.
Looking back over the evolution of hunting and fishing as enjoyable sports for the budget minded masses from WWII, it’s sad to see the proliferation of no hunting signs, no trespassing signs, loss of habitat for game and the ever-decreasing acreage for any sporting purposes, even to run and train your dogs.
All this being compounded by the anti-everything activists and the legislative support to restrict and eliminate the sport. Thank God for the NRA and conservationists hunt clubs and associations that promote and protect the environment and our native animals and fishes from extinction. Our fisheries and wildlife agencies would stock the ponds and streams with pen reared fingerlings. Opening day was and still is a circus in so many areas, with sportsmen shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, tangling their lines trying to catch the tame fish that never took a lure. Opening day of hunting saw a red blaze every 100 yards or less “ready for the big one”.
I’ve gone through the trials and tribulations to get permission, even though we were experienced, safe and considerate hunters. It became harder and harder to find a quality hunting environment in the US. Now I read with dismay all the species of fish that are unfit to consume because of heavy metal and chemical pollution. From the small fish up to the top of the food chain, it’s a frightening scenario.
So where do we escape?? To “New Found Land”
Many will say, well there are plenty of good outfitters in the US and there are many; but like lawyers and doctors most laymen don’t have the time, money or ability to separate good from the bad. Most inexperienced hunters will put up the “do-re-me” and go out and try to get the big one that you have fantasized about for a year.
Trouble is that this old geezer has put together too many big game hunts throughout the US and Canada, and all too often have had egg on my face. Imagine putting together three to six hunters, full of anticipation and hopeful expectations, who have saved their hard earned money and shelled out anywhere from $3,000 up to $10,000 for a guided hunt, based on my recommendation. My experience has rewarded me with many successful hunts but the bad ones “pang my conscience”.
I’ve hunted Montana, Colorado, New Mexico, South Dakota, Wyoming, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, Ohio, Tennessee, North Carolina, and Canada from Manitoba to Nova Scotia… all fun hunts with varying success, but all enjoyable.
Six years ago I gave “New Found Land” a try and researched the outfitters; writing, calling, checking references and getting approved lists from the appropriate commissions. Laborious, to say the least, yet one outfitter seemed to stand out the most, “Sou’wester Outfitting” out of Corner Brook in Newfoundland (owners Dean and Bonnie Wheeler). Both young and energetic, but very conscientious in the prospective client follow-up. No fast hustle, no hype, nice literature, well put together, documented their record kills with black powder, archery and high power rifles. References checked out, no obvious coaching by the Wheelers… good satisfaction level and I was convinced.
My first group were all professionals, business executives, engineers and lawyers. Most outfitters like to brag and embellish their success rate. The Wheelers, however, were comfortable that 93% of their clientele were successful and published that statistic. As a life long businessman, I must confess that I looked at that statistic with a jaundiced eye, and had a “show me” attitude when I first arrived.
These are my observations as to why I have selected Sou’wester as one of Newfoundland’s premier outfitters.
Day One: We arrive at Deer Lake Airport and are greeted by the outfitter himself; who cheerfully helped to load us up into his van. A short ride takes us to a small village called Little Rapids to one of the most beautiful, clean and hospitable “Bed and Breakfast” in the area (the Adams House – Carla and Nelson Adams Proprietors). Their huge claw foot porcelain bathtub felt so good after the long air flight (need to relax those tense muscles caused by the excitement of anticipation and the fatigue of the trip).
After the soaking bath the Adams had prepared a nice dinner and even joined us as we shared some Johnny Walker Red Label. A fitting libation to help lull us into a pre-slumber mode.
This was to be our last taste of civilization as tomorrow we would be off to the deep tundra and would have to “rough it” with no hot water, no radio, make our own meals and trail lunches. Remember, this was my first time here and I was escort to three more clients and I desperately wanted a quality hunt and not egg on my face. Surprise, surprise… our outfitter personally drove us out to “Peter Strides” (a small lake, surrounded by an assortment of small cabins, campers, pop-ups, and truck campers supporting the hunting industry of this section of Newfoundland.
Our plane looked like a trustworthy Cessna, proudly sitting atop its floats. Wow! These bush pilots really know how to maximize their loads. Yes, the outfitter himself, the CEO of Sou’wester Outfitting helped to load the plane, helped with the heavy cans of gas and helped us aboard the Cessna floatplane (the first time ride for my friends, their apprehensions were allayed by my calmness, since I have flown all my life, owned planes and even flew the Lake Amphibian and the Grumman Goose among dozens os aircrafts of all types).
The takeoff in a floatplane is an exhilarating experience, at least for me, and off into the air and under the low overcast went our plane on the appropriate heading to Loon Lake, the main camp of Sou’wester Outfitting approximately 100 miles away.
Of course I had the typical stereotype impression of a tundra hunt…a ramshackle camp, wooden cots, cast iron stove, cans of water, hanging lanterns and some local guides with scraggly beards, long oily hair, chewing tobacco. How wrong I was…surprise, surprise!
Upon landing at Loon Lake, we were greeted by four camp guides, all eager to safely moor the plane and protect those expensive floats; the smiling hunters from the previous week were there to greet us and were anxiously awaiting to show off their trophy antlers and carefully wrapped meat and to get on their way home.
The guides were all professional in appearance and had the look of folks that were happy with their duties, helping folks like us fulfill their ambitions and fantasies of big game hunting in Newfoundland. The floatplane was fully packed and it was obvious that all three hunters were successful at 100%; it just doesn’t get any better than that! Everyone had at least one animal “in the bag”. They couldn’t wait to get home and to develop their photos.
Well let’s mosey over and check out the accommodations. Wow! My stereotype impression was completely shattered, as the photo will testify. Dean Wheeler went to time and trouble (plus the money) to have every bit of new construction material air lifted by helicopter to deep in the tundra location at Loon Lake. During the winter months, they even used snowmobiles to drag more materials and even their rugged home built boats over the frozen landmass, its many ponds, lakes, bogs and marshes.
Having being built in the mid 1990’s the cabin featured all the comforts of home, even to the beautiful knotty pine paneling, hot and cold running water, shower, flush toilet, bed with mattress, nice pillows with comfortable blankets and comforters. Yes everything was first rate and I would give the camp a four star rating. What a surprise it was to be introduced to Ray Batt the camp chef, a well educated person with a bachelor’s degree in psychology…but oh could he cook. Just the aroma of his Newfoundland style cooking made you salivate. Every meal was a delight … nutritious, well balanced and home cooked. We looked forward to his home baked breads, muffins, biscuits, and little cakes dotted with a variety of fresh picked berries that grew (crack berries, partridge berries, blue berries and that old standby, raisins).
Newfoundland has such a unique history and culture that one must be there to appreciate and to enjoy it. The books of Newfoundland style cooking reflect the stalwart makeup of its citizens. I can sum it up in one phrase; they are “can do” people who know how to survive and live off the land.
Their vegetable staples are primarily root crops, with wild game and fish as their protein. What I noticed when shopping in St. John’s and Corner Brook was the lack of obesity among the locals, the cleanliness of the streets and the friendliness of the clerks. What a contrast to the lower 48… and the females had beauty in their heartfelt radiance. No tattoos or fat waddling rumps! These Newfies knew how to survive in what could be a harsh climate. Preserve and protect your edibles for the long winter.
First day at Loon Lake … a polite briefing and map reading (topographical) of the local area, gun safety tips, a sighting in range and then some scouting and scoping the landscape. Hunting Woodland Caribou is a “spot and stalk” type of hunt requiring the human body to be in reasonably good shape. Walking 2-8 miles over the tundra can be compared to walking on a mattress. The low growing lichen and tuckamore bushes, juniper and spruce are punctuated by the caribou trails that make for a challenging hike.
But oh, to pass over a massive bog to get to a wooded hillock, required you to test the knee-high rubber boots and your stamina!!
As you trudge along in this new and strange environment, you sink into the bogs at varying depths, depending on the color of the bog (watch out for the dark areas, try and gingerly step as brisk as possible while you are fresh and strong). Squish, squish, squash, squash, slurp, slurp, oops, I just sank down to my knees and water came into my boot. Now to extricate my legs, it seems to be “stuck in a glue pot”. Tug, Tug and it comes out. Thank God, I did not utter any expletives… especially since this is truly “God’s country”.
Why? You may ask? Remember opening day of hunting in the lower 48. Wall to wall orange blaze, no hunting signs everywhere, game wardens everywhere looking for that poor hapless hunter not wearing enough blaze, junk piles, litter in so many places ect. ect..
Well in Newfoundland, it is the pleasure of “quiet”, just you and your guide, no one else in sight, no need for blaze orange, just trudge along the small hills, rocks, bogs and marshes, stopping frequently to glass the surrounding slopes and woodloks.
The beauty of the tundra is its pristine purity, everyone here pitches in to protect the natural beauty of this environment. In my six years, I have never even seen so much as a chewing gum wrapper, let alone a beer can in the bush. On one hunt involving a eight mile trek, a small band aid on my left hand came off. After realizing the loss, I had a guilty feeling. Later on however one of the guides proudly gave it back to me… now that’s environmental dedication… up in Newfoundland it’s “Earth, we care”.
Big game hunting for non-locals in Newfoundland is a protected industry since non-residents must book their hunt with a licensed outfitter. Local residents can get their tag individually. This rule gives the outfitters an opportunity to recoup their investment and to concentrate their attention on building a satisfied client base, especially for repeat business and referrals. Hunting Woodland Caribou requires you to adjust your senses to longer distances, and to distinguish between the numerous round rocks (relics of the ice age) that look like the body of a resting caribou. For me it took several days to adjust to noticing the difference at 200-500 yards plus. Thank God for my guide Austin (a career cod fisherman, life long hunter and master boat builder) with his help and my new “Bushnell Legend” binoculars and his patience, I got the drift, and got up to speed.
After hunting Newfoundland for three years, I decided to ask my then 47 year old son Brian, if he would like to join his dad for a “hunt of a lifetime” in Newfoundland. Being a single bachelor, no family encumbrances, he could easily accompany me; after all, we hadn’t hunted together for over 25 years, as he established his own life style.
“Yeah dad sounds great! How much will it cost me?” I gave him the prices for a complete guided hunt for a caribou and/or moose. The cost to me is reasonable compared to similar hunts in British Columbia, Alaska, Maine, ect. He chose a single animal hunt – the Woodland Caribou.
“Yeah dad but isn’t that like shooting fish in a barrel? I saw on the OLC (Outdoor Life Channel) that those migrating caribou were just like shooting fish in a barrel. Just take your pick and shoot!!”
It took some explaining on my part, to compare the difference between a Woodland Caribou and the Barren Ground type. Woodland Caribou are more solitary during their open season and you hunt them on a “spot and stalk” method. You better be in pretty good physical shape to withstand the rigors of that type of hunt. There is absolutely no comparison between the two. This is the more challenging hunt.
When my son arrived, I was stunned to see his “abominable adominable”. Gosh, he went from a slim 148 lb man to over 200 lbs (we had not gotten together for a number of years). Would he be up to the rigors? He’s now middle aged and not a spring chicken.
After two days of hunting I was resting (FOB – flat on back) when my guide came in and excitedly exclaimed, “Come on “Pop”, two big bulls across the lake up on a hill. Let’s jump in the boat, cross the lake and get them.”
Lickety split, and off I hauled my geriatric bones to the boat along with my son to “get the big ones”. A 15 minute ride and I get out the Bushnell Legends and spot the animals about 200 yards inland. Pleading with my geriatric bones and muscles to get a move on, I skidooed up a small stream and threw myself on to the junipers for a prone shot. “Bang” and one bull dropped onto its front legs, rear legs still standing like a camel getting down. Not knowing where the first shot hit, I quickly adjusted my Browning 300 Winchester Mag for a high neck shot and put the caribou down. My first shot was unfortunately too far forward and low, going through the brisket. With the high neck shot there was no loss of meat and no suffering by the animal.
My son however, froze in his tracks and for some reason would not take the other bull. “Shoot, shoot”! I exclaimed, but no reaction. Coming up to me at the prostate animal I said “Brian I hope that you can do this when you are 74 years old”. Brian said nothing … later on I regretted this, because I feared that my comment was a “put-down”! The guide, wise and experienced stated that your son probably was afraid that he might miss and be embarrassed in front of his dad. Maybe, I thought! Could be!
The next day I asked the guide to take him out and really hunt his butt off. I’ll stay in camp. About 1:00 pm the next day my son exited the bush, soaked and wet from perspiration, but smiling from ear to ear. “Well dad I got one, and the guide is bringing him out.
“Wow, Brian that’s great” … I gave him a bear hug and kissed him on both checks, I was so happy for him.
One of the guides remarked, “Gee, it’s great to see da fadder, hug da son after da kill”.
Who can explain the ecstasy of the moment of a father and son re-bonding after 25 years, through the experience of hunting together.
Brian being exhausted, I suggested he take a nice hot shower at camp, I again went FOB and Brian came into my room and said “Dad, I want you to listen to this CD, while I take a shower.”
“But Brian I’m too tired and too hard of hearing (too many years of flying airplanes).”
“Don’t worry dad, the headphones will help you”
“What do you want me to hear?” I asked.
“Hear dad just put the headset on and listen while I take my shower”.
A beautiful country and western song sung by an artist called “George Strait,” I’m not up to speed on country and western music but the lyrics came through loud and clear. “A father’s love is to the end, a father’s love will never end”. What a beautiful song – I cried.
Fatherhood again became worthwhile, all because of the re-bonding experience … hunting in Newfoundland.
There are many fine outfitters in Newfoundland and I know many of them. I chose Sou’wester Outfitting because of my greater familiarity and a 7 year experience factor.
In addition to their clean, up to date base camp, in such a remote area, they have invested the necessary capital for separate guide quarters; two spike camps within 4-5 miles of the main camp (as the crow flies) along with refrigerated coolers and freezers to protect your game.
They use the aircraft appropriate to the load, from Cessnas up to the reliable Beaver workhorse. As needed, the outfitter charters a helicopter to haul extra provisions or to haul out a heavy moose that may have been in the way of a high-powered bullet.
I’d say that everything is first class and deserves my endorsement.
The quality of an outfitter’s camp can be judged by their clientele. Sou’wester Outfitting has in their client list business executives, industrialists, bankers, educators, union presidents, airline pilots and police chiefs.
Booking with Sou’wester Outfitting will keep the conversation lively, the camaraderie highly energized and will provide you the memories of a lifetime.
When in Newfoundland I’ve yet to meet a “deeze and dozer” type person, devoid of personality, non-conversant, and who are speechless if they had the four-letter expletive removed from their vocabulary.
You can’t beat the stimulation of being with successful people. Life is not a dress rehearsal, go for it!
The following excerpt was taken out of the Longhunter Muzzleloading Big Game Record Book, 2nd Edition, and was written by Mr. Collins Kellogg. Collins came to take a record Woodland Caribou with a muzzleloader. His summary is typical of the hunt and services provided by Sou’wester outfitting.
World Record Muzzleloading Woodland Caribou
299 7/8 — Loon Lake, Newfoundland
by Collins F. Kellogg
Many experienced big game hunters consider the caribou one of the easiest animals to hunt, if not the easiest. I would agree with this opinion except for two subspecies of caribou: the mountain and the woodland varieties. Hunting either one of these subspecies and trying to find an exceptional trophy can be very challenging to any hunter.
In hunting the mountain caribou, horses can be of great assistance. The hunter must cover a great deal of terrain while searching for a suitable trophy. Hunting the woodland caribou of Newfoundland is a different proposition because you must travel exclusively on foot. Only by shank’s mare can you get a look at a real trophy because the terrain is quite difficult. The “tuckamore” is a dense tangle of scrub spruce and balsam, virtually impenetrable, and one must detour around or bull through it. The bogs and ponds also create obstacles to ideal hiking.
During the winter of 1993-94 I received a letter from Clarence Childs, a friend and longtime Newfoundland guide, who wrote that he was going to be guiding for a new outfitter who had purchased an area that had been hunted sparingly for five years. This new operation, Sou’wester Outfitting out of York Harbour, is run by Dean and Bonnie Wheeler. The prospect sounded interesting. A short phone call later, I was set up for a 1X1 caribou hunt during late September. The rut probably would start by then.
Having taken many woodland caribou via centerfire rifle or bow, two of which were Boone and Crockett quality, I decided that I would hunt with a muzzleloader on this trip. This muzzleloading rifle was not new to me; I had taken numerous big game animals with it. I decided to change my usual load for this hunt. Previously I had always used a patched roundball in my Thompson/Center .50 caliber Hawken, but I wanted to try out T/C’s 275-grain Maxi-Hunter. After testing this bullet and a number of loads over the bench, I settled on using 100 grains of Pyrodex ® RS Select behind it. This load gave me fine accuracy with iron sights and I sighted in four inches low at 100 yards.
My wife and I arrived in Stephenville, Newfoundland, on Saturday, September 24, and were flown by helicopter into Sou’wester Lodge on Loon Lake. The lake, which flows into the Grey River, is located in the southwestern part of the island. No Sunday hunting is permitted in Newfoundland, so the following day was spent getting acquainted with the staff and discussing with Clarence the hunting potential for a trophy caribou. The guides were new to the area and had been 100 percent successful for both moose and caribou, but no really exceptional caribou had been spotted yet.
The first day of the hunt was less than perfect; we awoke to dense fog coming in from the south. By 8:00 A.M. visibility was less than 100 yards. Nevertheless, Clarence and I climbed a ridge behind camp and planned our hunt to the northwest. It was nearly noon before the fog cleared enough to permit our glassing beyond more than half a mile. We observed numerous caribou, but they were primarily cows or cows with calves, and some small bulls. In the course of the day we did look over at least five mature bulls, but none of them that would have scored over 200 points maximum. We returned to camp that evening tired but enthusiastic, since we had seen over 50 caribou.
Day two of the hunt turned out clear and sunny, and we planned to hunt to the southeast of Loon Lake. Clarence and I sailed the boat a mile or so down to the outlet of the lake and took off on foot. Following the game trails, we slogged through the bogs and forced our way through the tuckamore, gradually gaining elevation and trying to locate a place from which to glass.
When we had progressed to a position about three miles from the lake, glassing all new country as we came to it, we found a small knob from which we could survey a vast area of perfect caribou terrain. From here we could see numerous caribou feeding, including a couple of fair-sized bulls. After setting up spotting scopes, we started checking these out.
Clarence discovered a really big bull coming out of the timber about a mile away. I swung the Swarovski scope to that general area, turned down the power, and located him. When I turned the scope power up to 40X, I knew he was a dandy. After viewing him for a few minutes as he picked his way along, my calculation was that he would go 290 points, at least. “Let’s go!”
Just as we were about to leave, we discovered that there were five cows about half a mile ahead of him and that he was following them. The bull was already thinking about collecting his harem. Hurriedly, we gathered up our gear and took off in hot pursuit. A group of caribou can cover a lot of distance in a short time unless they find an interesting place to feed or bed down, and it didn’t look like as if these animals were going to do either one.
In trying to overtake them, we pushed ourselves physically, since they already had a mile-and-a-half jump on us and all our traveling was uphill. Finally, we made it to the top and found that a vast bog lay in front of us. We could see at least three miles of it but, after glassing the area, we determined that the caribou had not chosen to go in that direction. Turning to the northwest and to our left, we saw a series of bogs and small ponds surrounded by sparse timber. After a few minutes of scrutiny with binoculars, we discovered a couple of cows that were being followed by our bull. He was about half a mile away from us.
Checking the wind, we continued on as rapidly as possible, trying to cover the distance before they moved any further away. When we had traveled about 600 yards, we came to a pond and found the cows and bull feeding at the far end, about 200 yards away. When they had fed on out of sight, we carefully skirted the edge of the pond.
After moving only a few hundred feet along the trail they had taken at the end of the lake, we saw the cows feeding in a small bog a little over 100 yards away from us. The bull was not yet in sight, but we knew that he would be nearby in the sparse timber beside them. I crawled to a boulder a few feet distant and took off my backpack, placing it on the rock as a rest. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the bull’s white cape and antlers moving through the trees as he headed for the cows.
After what seemed like hours of tension, the bull emerged from the timber. He walked directly away from me until he was 140 yards distant–not offering a clean take. At the last moment he quartered a bit, and I took the shot. After the smoke cleared from the bog I could see the five cows running away. The bull staggered for 50 feet and fell.
Upon caping him, we found the bullet in his off-front shoulder under the skin. It had penetrated 42 inches of caribou including the paunch and had taken out both lungs. We quartered the bull and covered the meat with boughs to keep off flies and birds; it would be picked up the next day. Clarence packed up the cape and antlers and we took off on the long trek back to camp. The caribou green-scored 305 1/8 the following morning. This was a little more than I had field-judged him with the spotting scope. Of all the subspecies of caribou, I think that a record-class woodland is the most beautiful, and I have been fortunate enough to have taken examples of all the subspecies. You should be prepared for some long and difficult hikes if you hunt them. I was lucky to take this bull on the second day of the hunt, but I’ve also had to pursue them until the last day. I feel certain that you will enjoy the abundance of game and the fine people on the friendly island of Newfoundland.
The following article appeared in a local Newfoundland newspaper. A writer just happened to be dining at the same restaurant as three ecstatic hunters and overheard them boasting of an incredible week. The reporter pulled out his notepad and before long had the information for an interesting story.
Province of Newfoundland a Well-kept Secret Say U.S. Hunters
Three moose, two caribou and one bear later, three American hunters headed back home.
Tom Muchesko of Chicago, Illinois, Evie Griego of Richmond, Virginia, and Tim Jackson of Palisade, Idaho, spent a week on Loon Lake in Area 37, Grey River, to try their hand at hunting in Newfoundland’s wilds. They each found out about hunting in the province through articles in various hunting magazines. The three men were clients of Sou’wester Outfitting, operated by Dean Wheeler of York Harbour.
Muchesko said his time spent on the island was something he’ll never forget. “I do this every year; I pick some place different every year,” he said. “I was very happy with what I found—they (outfitters) provided everything they promised.”
Griego said he went on a hunting excursion to Africa last year, but his experience in Newfoundland by far outweighed the exotic continent. “This is just so much more amazing,” said Griego. He said the guides—Ray Humber, Austin Childs and Brad Wheeler, were “unbelievable—they must be the toughest people in the world.” With a chuckle, Griego said they probably would have carried him out if he couldn’t walk any further. And the actual camp facility was incredible too, he said. Home cooked meals and good old Newfoundland hospitality were the order of the week. “They choppered in the materials for the cabin,” said Griego. “It’s a beautiful place. It’s amazing they made a facility that nice out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Newfoundlanders have to be the most cordial people I’ve ever met,” added Jackson. He said the experience was “one of the best hunts I’ve ever been on in my life.” But he said he had to really dig to find out about the province. “It’s the best kept secret,” said Jackson, adding that the provincial government should be spending more money on promotional advertising. “I called to have hunting information sent to me, and all I got was one piece of paper with about 10 guides listed on it.” “They should spend some money on advertising, particularly in the United States, because it’s not that much money to come here and hunt, relatively speaking,” he said.
Muchesko agreed, saying that if the province were to advertise the kill rates on the island, there’d be no problem drawing people in. “The kill rates here are probably as good as they are anywhere in the world,” he said.
Jackson added that the province would reap the benefits from out-of-province license fees, plus local outfitters and other operations would see spin-off business.
In the meantime, the three hunters said they’ll do their best to make sure the word gets out. “We have a lot of hunting buddies—we’ll spread the word”, said Muchesko.