Gazing down onto the green vastness of the tundra from high above in the floatplane I couldn’t help but wonder who may have possibly traversed this remote, wild terrain?

Have hunters and gatherers from centuries past made their way across this expansive swampland or is there still land that’s never felt the weight of a hunter’s footprint. I love romanticizing about a landscape that few feet have ventured.

Alaska is what dreams are made of. For those of us who’s dreams consist of wild places anyway. Where the land is untouched and some of the waters are unnamed. I recently had the opportunity to disconnect from the modern world and reconnect with nature and myself in the middle of nowhere Alaska. The Yukon Flats Refuge is a remote 9+ million-acre habitat that lies between the Brooks Range to the north and the limestone peaks of the White Mountains to the South. It's an area comprised of vast wetlands, lakes and ponds where most wildlife have never laid their eyes on a human. The exact location inside the refuge that we called home for a week was a mere 15 miles south of the arctic circle where the sunsets blend into the sunrises and the light of June never fully fades.

The purpose of the adventure was to hunt bears with Alaska Wilderness Enterprises, an outfitter that operates in more than half of the 9 million acres of the Refuge. The owner Joe Letarte is a legend among Alaskans, having outfitted there for over 30 years. “There is no place in North America that is wilder or more unaltered by man than the Yukon Flats.” explained Joe. “It’s so wild and untamed that you may be the first person to set foot on the ground you’re standing on. The bears are truly wild, not habituated to man like most bears in the lower 48. You are truly stepping back to a time long thought past when you enter the Refuge.”

Joe and my boyfriend John Bair have shared hunting camps before and were good friends with many great stories already in the books. John had a grizzly bear tag and I had a black bear tag and we both had our pistols in tow.

One of the great things about this particular remote hunt was the ease of travel. I’ve gone on many adventures that involved days of exhausting flights and rides versus a hop, skip and a jump like this trip. We took a direct flight from Salt Lake City into Fairbanks, AK. It's a short one-hour float plane ride out into the bush where you're dropped off on a beautiful, remote lake. The pilot cuts the propeller and you glide into the shore where you're greeted by Joe or his guides at camp. Base camp lies on a peninsula and consists of a couple of cook tents, skinning area for the fish and bears, gear storage in barrels and a half dozen tents for the hunters and guides. It's simple.

It's secluded. It's heaven.

The only means of transportation is an inflatable raft with a 2 horsepower motor which takes the hunters to their stands every day. This is a baited hunt, drawing the bears out of the thick, dense surrounding marshland. There is no higher ground or areas to glass from like other places in Alaska, making this style of hunting the best option for managing the predators. According to Joe, a predation study was done in the Refuge which concluded that 84% of moose calves were killed annually by bears and wolves. Like anywhere, it's about balance and predator hunting is an important piece of the conservation puzzle.

There's something magical about being in the middle of nowhere where the distractions of technology cannot entice you. No cell service. No internet. No humming appliances. Just the peaceful sound of birds chirping and loons wailing or an occasional slap on the water from the resident beaver that lives 50 yards from camp. The days blend together since it never gets dark this close to the arctic circle. You can literally hunt 24 hours a day if you choose but I highly recommend grabbing some sleep. It's always best to be sharp when you're on the ground with black bears and grizzlies.

After unloading our gear into our tent and and saying hello to the other hunters in camp, we grabbed the poles and had fun fishing for northern pike right from shore. Since Alaska rules state you can't hunt on the day you fly we had fun doing the next best thing, stripping streamers for pike. According to Joe, two and three footers are common right from camp with the chance at an occasional 50 incher! I had packed the fly rod and bright colored streamers in hopes of landing not only dinner but some big bellied hens that are simply fun to catch and release on a fly rod. John loves to proclaim he’s the world’s worst fisherman but in my opinion that’s just to take any pressure off himself. He doesn’t get an opportunity to fish as much as I do and I was excited when he landed his very first pike after a few casts.

The other hunters in camp headed out to their stands while John and I fished, relaxed, and soaked in the beauty of being marooned on a lake in the middle of the Nowhere, Alaska. While a float plane is only an in-reach call away, it’s still a different level of almost forced relaxation. You have no choice but to back burner your worries and woes. We couldn’t believe the time when we checked our phones and saw it was 1:30am. Looking out from the window of our tent we chuckled at the vibrant colors rippling on the water, not knowing if we were looking at a sunset or a sunrise.

As with most adventures, the first day is always filled with anticipation. On this hunt John was going to use his pistol, a stout 45/70 BFR, abbreviation for "biggest, finest revolver". No really. I was hunting with my Desert Eagle .429, a handgun I have been hunting with for the past couple of years. Along with the anticipation came a little bit of trepidation. It's a little unnerving when hunting around baits where grizzlies hang out. Even though the guide is always with you, it's important to be aware of your surroundings at all times and be vigilant. Remember...Siegfried and Roy never thought anything would happen either. And THEY were dealing with tame tigers. You can be incredibly knowledgeable and experienced but there’s always a level of unpredictability when it comes to big predators in the wild.

That afternoon we loaded our gear into the raft and headed out with Joe to check trail cameras, help refresh a few different bait sites and then sit for our first evening in the tree stands. Buckets consisting of dog food, molasses and camp scraps sat at our feet as we motored across the calm, reflective water.

When planning this hunt, I decided early on that I wasn’t going to bring along a cameraman. The logistics of this style of hunt made it more complicated to bring a third person so John and I decided we would film one another and try to capture the adventure for my show Skull Bound Chronicles. Neither one of us claim to be cinematographers but we’ve been able to capture some great footage from previous bear hunts in Idaho where I run baits with my editor Heath Helgert. When most of the hunt is filmed from a tree stand or ground blind it’s much easier than spot and stalk.

After refreshing the baits at a couple of the stands we motored over to an area where Joe had recently seen grizzlies on the trail camera. The shoreline was thick with brush, adding to the mystery of what lies beyond those fluid walls. Wearing hip waiters, we allcarefully exited the raft and sloshed our way through the marsh until we reached solid ground. Joe lead the way down the trail, rifle at the ready. The stands hung overhead about twenty yards into the trees past the thicket. Joe motioned for us to keep an eye out as he went to dump the bait bucket and Boarmasters powder.

Fresh bear scat peppered the forest floor and I couldn’t help but comment on the height of the hang-on tree stands. “Those look pretty low!” I whispered to John with a wide-eyed look of surprise. He reached up and, standing on his tiptoes, touched the bottom of the metal platform of the lowest stand. Life can be ironic at times. Typically, when I’m hunting whitetails I’m left wishing tree stands were hung lower but my fear of getting swiped by a grizzly apparently trumps my fear of heights. Regardless, we climbed up, got buckled in and started situating our gear.

I got out my Sony Z90 camera and attached it to the free-standing tripod. Next, I hung one of the GoPros facing John and another facing me. I also had a DJI pocket cam to use for other cut away shots. John got his shooting sticks adjusted to the right height and was looking down the barrel of his BFR making sure he was steady for a shot if one presented itself. We were just about situated when I thought I heard a stick break from behind our tree.

With my body twisted backwards I slowly reached for John’s leg and poked him with intent. “Big black bear!” I mouthed as I swung the camera in the opposite direction to try and film the bear. He was only five yards from the base of our tree, staring intently up at us. A bear’s eyesight is said to be very poor but their noses on the other hand are their superpower and he knew we didn’t belong. Wide eyed and nodding my head I whispered to John, “Should I shoot him?!” My hesitation had nothing to do with the bear’s size, but rather we had only been in the stand for a mere five minutes.

I handed John the video camera and tripod and reached for my Desert Eagle that was still in my backpack. Luckily my Grizzly Ears case was clipped to the loop on my pack, and I motioned for John to also put in his ear protection. There’s a reason we affectionately call my pistol the ‘hand cannon’.

John passed me the shooting sticks and I readied the .429 for the shot. “You on him?” I confirmed. With my adrenaline surging I steadied my breathe and slowly squeezed the trigger. A loud BANG echoed through the trees, and I watched the bear buckle from the 240 grain bullet. He took only a few leaps before letting out the classic death moan a mere thirty yards from the barrel. John swung the camera in my direction and captured my excitement as I looked up at Joe with a bewildered look. “That was fast!” I quietly chuckled! Joe motioned for us to sit tight since the commotion could easily bring in a grizzly.

My adrenaline slowly dissipated and as we sat hoping a grizzly would appear. After a couple of hours John suddenly caught movement in the thick woods beyond the bait. We watched another big black bear slowly approach my bear that was lying about fifty yards from our position. He slowly circled my bear, popping his jaws and rumbling the classic low guttural sound of an angry bruin. After circling my bear, the jet-black boar made his way over to the base of our tree. “He’s a crabby one!” I whispered while we watched the bear slap the ground and pop his jaws, this time showing his aggression towards the three of us. It was obvious this bear had an attitude, and I wasn’t in any hurry to get down with him in the neighborhood.