Pandemonium

Guiding at caribou camp could get repetitious and slightly boring ; taking out two hunters then two more, then two more and some weeks caribou were scarce to find. It was common during the first two weeks to spend hours, day after day, looking through binoculars hoping caribou would appear on the horizon. The weather was usually warm and the insects’ horrendous if the wind wasn’t blowing. One fall we arrived at camp without a shovel which would prove foolish in a few days.

Our first group was an interesting mix of people. We had three Italians from New Jersey who may have had ties to the mob. One day in the cook tent I heard Little Tony ask Big Tony what he was going to do with the truck load of butter. Then there were the three rednecks from Montana and a truck driver from Pennsylvania. It was an interesting mix of cultures. I figured the Italians definitely weren’t hit men as they couldn’t shoot accurate enough to inflict any damage on a four hundred pound caribou. It took all week before they harvested a bull and then I had to get them within forty yards. Big Tony brought one cooler full of home made sausages and one of fresh vegetables from his garden so we were enjoying some good food.

Everything seemed pretty normal; then a three day storm hit. Alaska storms can last for days with winds over sixty miles an hour and inches of rain per day. Our camp was on the north end of the lake and the storms came from the southwest so we really received a pounding. The only shelter was some alder and willow bushes that stood six feet high. In front was the six mile long lake and behind was a huge impoundment of water formed by a series of beaver ponds A river flowed into the lake nearby so as the lake rose over two feet, the river spilled over into the beaver ponds and was rapidly rising toward the tents. At dark the water was just inches from us and we started checking the level frequently with flashlights. Justin, the outfitter, told everyone to put their belongings on top of their cots to keep dry. This was the last straw for Little Tony; he came completely unglued and started yelling, “We’re going to die!” This wasn’t helping the moral of the rest of camp so we tried to calm him down as the furry of the storm seemed to increase with his shouting. We decided to try to dig a channel from the beaver ponds to the lake at midnight with some empty coffee cans, pans from the cook tent, and an axe. All the guides and some of the Montana hunters pitched in and after an hour we had a small stream of water draining into the lake. We hoped for the best and went to bed. At daylight we checked the work area to discover the little stream had widened to several feet wide and three feet deep. We were saved! Life at camp returned to normal and so did the weather.

I always looked at these storms as great adventures and put my trust in God to keep us safe. I was usually the only one in camp that thought like that. There is a big difference when life is handing you a storm on how you face it. If your relationship with God is right, you will feel His strength to calm the storm. Remember how the disciples were amazed when Jesus rebuked the wind. The Lord is our rock and salvation and wants to be in our lives to help us. Satan is always looking for ways to send arrows at us so know God is there to help ward them from us. One of the best ways to face the storms is to find some prayer warriors who will lift you up to the Father. A grove of trees can withstand strong winds because their roots intertwine to hold each other up; but remove a few trees and several will blow over. Christians are similar to trees in the storms of life. Pray, pray, pray to the Father; pray with others and meet the storms head on.

Hey, it is snowing outside on this March afternoon!