Which Way's Camp

During my second year of guiding in Alaska, the outfitter and I were dropped into a remote lake about sixty miles north of Dillingham. It was a beautiful lake surrounded by fir and birch timber. To the north , huge granite ridges jutted from the landscape and were called the Guardians. Some nice caribou bulls were grazing on the granite ridges as we set up the tents for the two clients that would fly in the next day. One bull was a record book animal with heavy antlers and massive double shovels. We felt getting a bou wouldn't be much trouble but didn't see any moose as night descended on us.

The next day the clients; two doctors arrived at camp. Their names were Don and Greg, both hoped to get a moose and a caribou . Don was nervous sort of guy and I could see he might be a handful to guide. Don immediately questioned Justin, the outfitter, about my capabilities. I could sense some doubt on his part about my guiding ability. Justin assured him I was qualified and one of his best guides. I was hoping to guide Greg the next day as he was an archer and so am I. But Justin turned to Don and said, "Larry will take you to the meadow behind camp for the day." So off we went and worked our way up on the side of an outcrop to get a good view of the meadow. The insects were horrendous and a head net was the order of the day. Don and I settled in and glassed for any movements in the timber below us. Late in the afternoon a cow and calf moose wandered by but no bull moose or caribou.

The second day found us at the same place at Justin's suggestion. I could see that Don wasn't too happy with that decison as he wanted to explore some other areas nearby. We sat there a few hours when a giant caribou bull appeared about three hundred yards away . I got Don fifty yards closer then we ran out of cover. I told him to hold his .270 just behind the bull's shoulder so Don took a rest on a small tree. I waited and waited for the shot and finally Don turned to me and said he had never shot at anything that far. I understood and said "okay". The big bull soon melted into the trees. This event really made Don want to walk and he pointed to some water we could see through a saddle about a mile away. I said let's go, thinking a walk might calm him down. We fought our way to the small lake through thick brush and found some fresh moose sign and way to much brown bear activity due to a heavy crop of blueberries. After slowly circling the lake Don said let's call it a day and go to camp. He was getting worn down. I said fine and told him if we turned left into the heavy timber we could save a mile of walking. I thought the timber would be easier than the thick brush. Don didn't see it that way and wanted to go back the way we came. I held firm and and said "Load your gun in case we suprise a bear." Don still objected and said we would not find camp that direction. That's when I said "Let's check my compass." I unzipped the compartment on my pack only to find it empty; then remembered having it out that morning in the tent when I was checking the map of the area. I felt sort of embarrassed and could see big concerns in Don's eyes. He was doubting my ability as a guide.

Eventually I won the debate and we took off through the spruce and birch . In about a half an hour we broke out on the lake shore one hundred yards from camp. Don was very quiet and said he needed to lay down a while. Later that night Don told Justin about our day and said I did a good job getting them back without a compass. Don shot two caribou and a large black bear that week and by the time he left camp I had a new friend.

Our lives are sort of like that hunt. Sometimes we forget the compass and wander around aimlessly in life. When we remember the compass for our life is Jesus , things go much better. We can always count on him to get us through the thick brush and trees that life throws in our path. All it takes is to invite Him into our lives. Do it today and he will show you the way to camp.