By: Shaundi Campbell    Published on August 24, 2023.

Three hardcore hunters head to Alaska for a DIY caribou trip of a lifetime. 

The training was intense, but there was a purpose to it. A dream trip to Alaska for caribou with the girls was on the agenda. So, for eight straight months, my days started at 5:30 a.m. 

There would be three of us, and we knew that packing a trio of caribou from the wilds of Alaska would be a chore. We also knew the importance of being able to cover the country, trek up steep hills and bomb down them would up our lead-slinging chances. 

When it's a trip you've dreamed about, you must be willing to lay it all on the line and prepare like crazy. No detail was missed — from training to gear to sighting in our Browning rifles — this would be the trip of a lifetime. That is if we could get there.

We secured transport through Ram Aviation out of Kotzebue, Alaska. We hit a significant obstacle in April 2022; the Federal Subsistence Board decided to close thousands of acres of public land in Unit 23 where we would be hunting. RAM Aviation navigated this challenge, and after a frantic phone call to Bryan and Meg, the owners of RAM, they assured us that they would still be able to get us into the backcountry.

Weight is an issue. Not only did we plan the weight we would have on our backs, but we also had to make sure we didn't overload the Cessna bush plane that would drop us at our final locale. 

We split up the gear and packing chores to ensure we had everything we needed but didn't double up on any item.

The trip to the caribou camp was anything but smooth. Weather delays and lost luggage seemed part of the game. 

I'd watched him all morning, and it seemed all the stars were starting to line up. He was a great bull — one I would be thrilled with — and I settled my crosshairs on his shoulder.

Settling in and getting my breathing under control, my mind flickered back to a deer hunt with my dad in Park Valley, Utah.

We were chatting away on the tailgate of his 1985 square-body Chevy. Then, without warning, he looked at me and asked, "Shaundi, if you could hunt anything in the world, what would you hunt?" 

My response was quick. "Caribou, dad, and a kudu." 

Dad chuckled at the response and told me to dream big. Since that conversation so many years ago, that's exactly what I've been doing, and I was moments away from achieving a lifelong goal. 

Tess called out the yardage. "The bull is 350 broadside," she said. I pulled the trigger without hesitation. Then, I heard Kali say, "He's down." Dreams do come true.

Hiking up to the bull I had only ever dreamed of in country most will never see was surreal. The bull's wide velvet antlers inched high above the muskeg, making for a view I'd only ever seen in magazines.  

As we finished disassembling my bull and getting ready for the hours-long pack out, we glanced up to see a herd heading in our direction. You can't beat Alaska.

Luckily, it was the herd of bulls Kali had been eyeing that morning. One bull, in particular, stood out from the rest. He was an old bull with a stark white cape who had rubbed his velvet and was heading in our direction. 

With the old bull closing in fast, Kali readied herself; I called the yardage. I hardly got the words "250 yards" out of my mouth when the Browning thundered. The shot rang out through the tundra, and the bull crumpled. Two bulls in short order! Our excitement level was through the roof, and I'm sure could be heard up and down the valley. 

We now faced the grueling task of disassembling Kali's bull and getting two bulls packed out, which ultimately turned into three separate pack trips for the two bulls across miles of tundra over a few days. I was grateful for all of those workouts.

As we crested the mountain back to camp with our second load of meat for the day, Kali asked, "Is that a rainbow?" Exhausted from the pack out, Tess excitedly said, "That's the Northern Lights." 

Getting back at 2 am had its perks; seeing the Northern lights was something I had only ever dreamed of. As we lay outside the tent for hours, oohing and awing over the light show happening above us, I realized we were truly living. Not everyday living, but living in a moment only seen in movies and magazines. I had to pinch myself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

Sleep came easy that night, even with the constant threat of grizzlies in our minds. The next day brought sore muscles, but that didn't stop us. We had more caribou to pack out and one more bull to find. As we hiked through the tundra to retrieve another load of meat, Tess spotted a bull two miles off. 

We quickly determined we could get there, but it wouldn't be easy. The tundra may look welcoming but will test you with every step. Like grass-covered bowling balls, the muskeg are set in a way that is not easily traversable. They have spread apart like a crevasse in a glacier, some seeming as deep, each step never knowing if they will stop at your ankle or knee.

After the long stalk, we came within three hundred yards of the bull we had spotted from a distance. His notched shovel was easily noticeable, and with one well-placed shot, Tess dropped her caribou. We had done it; we had successfully taken three bulls in two days on a DIY trip of a lifetime.

As we began to pack out Tess's bull, the Alaska wilderness threw us one more curveball. Tess was leading, with Kali and I following closely behind. An abrupt halt to our grid and the words out of Tess's mouth, "We have a problem," changed everything. 

As I turned my head to see what Tess was looking at, the distinct silver color of a grizzly ran toward us. My life flashed before my eyes. We began to yell and wave our arms to deter the grizzly from getting closer. At an uncomfortable distance, he stood up, trying to determine what he was about to run into. He quickly decided we weren't worth the work and turned. 

In shock, we all stood in disbelief at what had just happened. Never let your guard down in Alaska; it can all change quickly.

Although this trip seemed scripted, it took a year of planning, hard work, and desire. Our DIY drop camp caribou hunt was the hunt of a lifetime, the most incredible adventure with friends I trust my life with, and memories that will last forever. This hunt was the perfect start to my bucket list hunts I told my dad I would do years ago.