Chance Is the Providence of Adventurers

By M. Scotty Lamkin

For author M. Scotty Lamkin, a conventional lifestyle at a traditional job was a horribly mundane way to approach life. On January 16, 1979, he arrived in Alaska with fifty dollars in his pocket, two duffel bags, and a backpack. A long way from his Kentucky homeland, Lamkin journeyed to Alaska expecting adventure, and he was not disappointed. Chance Is the Providence of Adventurers narrates many of Lamkins true-life escapades in Alaskas remote bush country.

In this half-travelogue, half-memoir, Lamkin tells the sometimes funny, sometimes deadly, stories of his experiences as a professional guide and adventurerwaking up a brown bear at close range, sinking a boat in frigid Alaska waters, crashing bush planes, throwing rocks at bears, and experiencing some of the most beautiful landscapes on Earth.

Chance Is the Providence of Adventurers offers a glimpse into the flavor of Alaskan life, provides a firsthand view of the wonders of untamed nature and wildlife, and demonstrates the results of taking a chance to change your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475923254

M. Scotty Lamkin

M. SCOTTY LAMKIN ventured to Alaska at the age of twenty-six with his five-year-old son, Tim. As a single parent, he carved out an adventurous life for himself as a professional guide and adventurer. Now retired aft er thirty years of work, Lamkin and his wife, Sherry, live on Bald Mountain, Alaska.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by M. Scotty Lamkin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-2323-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-2324-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-2325-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908348

iUniverse rev. date: 07/24/2012

Contents

1.jpg

Acknowledgments

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1 Stupid Should Be Against the Law

Chapter 2 The Old Man and the Bear

Chapter 3 I Don’t Want to Die Anymore

Chapter 4 Look at the Size of That Bear!

Chapter 5 There’s Only One Thing Dumber than a Horse

Chapter 6 When the Chips Are Down, the Buffalo Is Empty

Chapter 7 All Stressed Out and Nobody to Choke

Chapter 8 Denny Crum, Lord of the Flies

Chapter 9 Bush Pilots

Chapter 10 Silent Hunt

Chapter 11 Battle at Bell Creek

Chapter 12 Planning Our Next Alaskan Hunt

Chapter 13 Parting Shots

Glossary of Alaskan Terms

Acknowledgments

44837.jpg

When I sat down to write my acknowledgments, I thought, Where do I begin? After all, no one sent me to Alaska, no one made me take flying lessons, no one trained me to take chances, and no one even suggested adventure should be an important part of living. Of all the people I have ever known, those who have pursued their dreams and failed have lived a much more fulfilling life than those who have put their dreams on a shelf for fear of failure.

So, who do I thank or pay tribute to here? Professor Bernie once said, Adventure is what happens when you just did something stupid. Well, I have had a lot of adventure in my day and feel pretty smart about it now that the years are passing along. Thanks, Bernie!

Let me also thank André Gide for saying, It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves—in finding themselves. Indeed, adventure and I found each other—what a glorious acquaintance. Thanks, Andy!

I must thank the turtle; he makes progress only when he sticks his neck out. And I thank Jim Conant for reminding me of that. Don’t refuse to go on an occasional wild goose chase; that’s what wild geese are for. So, I must also thank the geese for allowing me to see that.

Jim Rohn once said, If you don’t design your own life plan, chances are you’ll fall into someone else’s plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much. I must definitely thank Jim here! I knew at a very early age I was not following anybody—anywhere!

This acknowledgment page could not be complete without paying special tribute to Thomas H. Miller of Brandenburg, Kentucky. He has always followed my adventures, and he played a huge role in making this book happen. His encouragement and insistence that these stories need to be told played a huge role in actually getting the book done. He helped with the basic editing of this book too. Tommy took a huge chance, as well, by visiting me in Alaska one summer and damn near losing his life right alongside me. It was such a significant and profound experience that it became a part of this book. Thanks, Tommy!

Honestly, no one can write a book without thanking both of their parents. After all, writers would not exist without them. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Pete and Doris Mangin were also a big part of my life, and they always took the time to take me hunting during my early years. Thanks, Mam and Pap!

I must also thank the game of baseball. It taught me to always avoid a life of no hits, no runs, no errors. Grab the bat, step up to life’s plate, and swing like hell!

Lastly, I must thank Henry David Thoreau for saying to you, Read the best books first, as you may not have a chance to read them at all.

Preface

44845.jpg

The manuscript is finished now, and eight inches of fresh snow overnight makes for a perfect, cold Alaskan morning. All is silent after a fresh snowfall here. No birds, no moose stirring, not even a coyote is milling about. This type of silent predawn hour is the perfect time to reflect and write about the early days; those days of a young man growing up on a Kentucky farm and, over time, living a life of adventure in Alaska.

Being raised on a midsize farm in Kentucky gave me the opportunity to be outside a lot of the time. My brother Jimmy and I worked on the farm. I would also hunt, fish the many bass ponds, or loaf around the countryside and woods. At an early age, those surroundings produced an outdoorsman for life. I made slingshots and bow and arrows, went frogging and trapping, and swung on grapevines. Those were the days—the days when your character is developed.

45668.jpg

I must add to that the wisdom of my grandfather, who still worked his team of mules in the field next to his son’s—my dad’s—farm. He was always after us about something. Anything that was not work was considered play. His old, horse-drawn hay mower in the photo still sits on the farm to this day. Like all elderly men of his day, he possessed old-time wisdom.

Here is a snippet of Granddad’s wisdom: My brother and I managed to knock a pear out of our pear tree on the farm. My brother would not let me have half of it, so the scuffle began! Granddad noticed this and came over. What’s wrong with you chaps? he asked. I told him that Jimmy and I knocked a pear out of the tree, and Jimmy wouldn’t let me have half of the pear. When Jimmy did not respond with any defense, Granddad whipped out his old Barlow knife from his bib overalls, opened it, and handed the knife to Jimmy. Granddad said, "Jimmy, you cut the pear in half and let Scotty pick which half he wants first." Downhome logic, can’t beat it! It took my brother five minutes to find dead center on that pear.

A lot of my classmates in high school were preparing for their career paths back in 1969—paths made by humans, those well-worn, work avenues through life. Not me, however; I was still dreaming about things I wanted to do. There were places that needed to be seen and explored—places that had no paths, at least not those made by generations of humans.

The first signs of my destiny came in the days of high school football practice. Coach Sears knew that each fall I would end up doing penalty laps for missing practice. When hunting season opened in Kentucky each fall, everyone could count on me heading to the woods, regardless of any penalty!

It wasn’t long after graduating from high school that I learned to fly at a nearby airfield. This was another step toward my destiny. I can’t say I had a grand plan; flying was something I felt I had to learn to do.

During my early twenties in Kentucky, I involved myself in all sorts of outdoor-related fields. To mention a few, I joined activities at the Park Naturalist-Otter Creek Park; I was a self-studied taxidermist, herpetologist, president of various sportsmen clubs, charter member of the Fred Bear Sports Club, scoutmaster of two different Boy Scout troops, and wildlife artist/sculptor. During all of this, I was also enrolled at the University of Kentucky.

During my spring breaks, I would head to Canada for spring bear hunting and ice fishing in Sioux Narrows, Ontario, with my old friend Smokey Fadden. Most of the traffic was headed south; what a great drive! These were very active and busy times for a young man. Looking back, I can see that many of the things I was involved with had something to do with my Alaskan destiny.

During my sophomore year at UK, I met my first wife, and we had a son named Tim. Major changes in my life began to occur. Tim’s mother left us when he was only eighteen months old; she had visions of Hollywood, and we were obstacles. I was, and still am, a proud father, but in those days, and they were turbulent times, all that I had been told and promised in life—if I worked hard and stayed in school—seemed untrue and faded away. Now, my real life finally began to take shape!

Escaping the clutches of American capitalism at an early age is nearly impossible, and I was no exception to this. Starting two businesses in my hometown was nearly a fatal endeavor.

It was now 1978, and I was disillusioned with all forms of the modern-day man. I decided it was time for a change—my kind of change, no one else’s! I didn’t have a lot of money saved, but I did have enough to make it to Alaska.

By now, my son Tim was five years old. I decided to leave my son with my parents until I got a toehold in Alaska, and then I would send for him. It was a tough plan, but one that would be carried out. As it turned out, it was one of the greatest things that ever happened to us.

Having sole custody of a five-year-old son in the late seventies and relocating to Alaska was no easy task—not many will tackle that! I suppose all of us should write about our life’s story, or at least some parts of it. If nothing else, it will serve as a legacy for many generations of your family. The only person who can change your life is you!

My Alaskan journey begins …

Introduction

44849.jpg

I landed in Anchorage, Alaska, on January 16, 1979. It was dark and cold, and I did not know a soul. I had fifty dollars in my pocket, two duffel bags, and a backpack. I was a long way from my Kentucky homeland, where the cost of living was going up and the chance of living was going down. That was all behind me now.

I wanted to live free, in wide-open, wild spaces. In the United States in 1979 that could only happen in Alaska. Therefore, I just packed up and went one day when I had enough money for a plane ticket. I took the step! This book is just a small part of the profound impact that step made on my life.

Suddenly I found myself looking at Alaska, the threshold of optimum adventure. Sports Afield, Outdoor Life, Field and Stream, and other magazines about Alaska suddenly took second seat now. I no longer had to dream about it; I was standing in front of adventure.

There I was, ready to seek out the wildest places left on Earth, already pondering what Alaska might throw at me; little did I know at that moment what future experiences lay before me. I went to Alaska expecting adventure and was not disappointed. It was a rough road at first, trying to get a toehold, but that’s another story.

Over the next thirty years, Hemingway proved to be right many times: It is one thing to be in the proximity of death, to know more or less what she is, and it is quite another thing to seek her. Most of the time, anything that you do in remote Alaska (which is most of it) will have an element of danger in it: raging rivers, steep mountains, high seas, big bears, landing planes on glaciers or mountaintops or river beds, and stump jumping. Dang, it’s exciting, but watch out.

Let me put this place in perspective for you before we get too much further along. The state of Alaska covers 570,374 square miles, and it is the largest state in the United States. It is almost twice the size of Texas, the second-largest state. Its geographic center is located approximately sixty miles northwest of Mount McKinley. It has 6,640 miles of coastline and, including islands, 33,904 miles of shoreline.

Alaska is bordered on three sides by water. To the north is the Arctic Ocean, to the west is the Bering Sea, and to the south are the Gulf of Alaska and the Pacific Ocean. To the east lie Canada and the only roads connecting Alaska with the rest of the United States—or to the rest of the world for that matter.

Mount McKinley, at 20,320 feet, is the tallest peak in Alaska and the tallest peak in North America. Of the twenty highest peaks in the United States, seventeen of them are in Alaska. The highest point in Canada is Mount Logan in the Yukon; it is 19,850 feet high. Mount Logan is the largest mountain massif in the world. It rises nearly from sea level and has a base nearly one hundred miles in diameter. Compare this to Mount Everest, which rises to 27,000 feet but starts from a plateau at nearly 20,000 feet, and you can visualize the magnitude of Mount Logan’s size.

The Yukon River is the longest river in Alaska and the Yukon, at 1,875 miles long, is the third-longest river in the United States. There are over three thousand rivers in Alaska and over three million lakes.

There are an estimated one hundred thousand glaciers in Alaska. The largest is Malaspina at 850 square miles. Glaciers cover 5 percent of the state, or 29,000 square miles.

Now, who among you could not find adventure in a place like I just described?

The life of an occasional adventurer is tough at best. You pay a heck of a price. If you need more adventure in your life, there are a number of things you need to know which are described in detail throughout this book.

Adventure is about dreaming. While reading these tales, imagine yourself in these same predicaments and think about what you would do or how you would react. It’s about places and times that, unfortunately, are lost to most Lower 48 inhabitants. Nevertheless, once you get that taste of adventure in your mouth—and if you’re lucky—you’ll live longer and have a healthier life. Where have all the adventurers gone? I believe there are few left because all adventures must start with running away from home, leaving the familiar things you’ve known all your life, leaving your family, and most of all leaving comfort behind. Most folks simply will not take that first step. A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of mundane routine.

During my years here, I had to spend a little time in the cities (only two big ones) and towns, but I kept that time to a minimum. I never liked cities. Only a few human beings should be grown in a square mile; cities have them planted too close together.

I prefer living in the remote wilderness, far from the hustle and bustle of the cities. In the wilderness, I can have peace, quiet, and beauty. Jobs can’t be lost, the economy can’t fail, crime can’t strike, and bills don’t show up daily. For me, security was living in the bush; one has his or her cabin, chainsaw, and guns. Food is all around you; peace and beauty are everywhere you look. No stress, just natural rhythm that seems meant to be.

Security in modern civilization is mostly an illusion. It does not exist in nature. I somehow figured that out a long time ago at a young age. I have never been disappointed with my decision to come to this vast place and lead the life that I have. The word romance, according to the online version of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, means heroic, adventurous, but to me includes excitement and something extremely real (Merriam-Webster Online, accessed June 1, 2012, http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/romance?show=1_and_t=1338577442). The romance I began with Alaska has lasted a lifetime. I’ve learned that the richness of life is found in adventure; it develops self-reliance and independence, not to mention the kick-butt stories you can tell your grandchildren.

Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. Mark Twain said that statement, and they are truly universal words, spoken and understood by all mankind. I have rarely met an older person who did not have many regrets as a result of not doing things he or she wished he or she had. The secret to a rich life is to have more beginnings than endings.

If we shrink from certain experiences just to feel safe, then we are not living; we miss out on the experience of being alive. So, if life is an adventure, let’s be bold and go out and actually live. Now, join me on an expedition into some unfamiliar, beautiful, edgy, and scary Alaskan places. Take the step!

Chapter One

44854.jpg

Stupid Should Be Against the Law

On Tuesday, October 7, 2003, the headline in the Anchorage Daily News said, Bear Lovers Eaten, an all-too-familiar story here in Alaska. It seems every time I turn around someone is either getting killed or badly mauled by our bears. Most of the time, it’s just bad timing, but that is not always the case. The article went on to say: Among the last words Timothy Treadwell uttered to his girlfriend before a bear killed and partially ate both of them were these: ‘Get out of here. I’m getting killed.’ Their words were caught on a tape recording of the attack, which also revealed that Treadwell’s girlfriend, Amie Huguenard, shouted at him to play dead and then encouraged him to fight back. Alaska State Troopers reported that that is what they heard on a videotape recovered the preceding Monday at the scene of a bear mauling in Katmai National Park and Preserve. The tape was in a camera found near the bear-buried remains of Treadwell, forty-six, and Huguenard, thirty-seven.

Trooper spokesman, Greg Wilkinson, said there were no pictures on the tape, leading troopers to believe the attack might have happened while the camera was stuffed in a duffel bag or during the dark of night. Treadwell had talked to an associate in Malibu, California, by satellite phone around noon on Sunday. He mentioned no problems with any bears.

The remains of the Southern Californians who came to Alaska to live intimately with the bears were found the next day. Treadwell had been coming to Alaska to live amongst the bears for thirteen years; his girlfriend had been coming with him for the previous three years. A large but scrawny old bear with bad teeth that a pilot had seen sitting on top of the bodies, was shot and killed by National Park Service rangers at the scene after it charged them.

This whole event was 100 percent avoidable.