On the last morning of the trip, we decided to make a big push into a high valley several miles away. We had been trying not to overdo it with the boys (both 12 years old), but they had done so well thus far that we felt confident stretching it a bit further. About 2/3 of the way there, a cow caribou diverted our attention and the chase was on. My son almost got a shot at it, but things didn't quite work out. After our blown stalk, though, the caribou circled back towards my brother and his son, who was able to take a short shot and fill the first tag.
We decided to push on towards our intended destination while they worked on butchering their caribou. As we crested the ridge separating the two valleys, caribou started to appear. First one, then two, then four...and as we crawled forward on our bellies, soon we were within range of a group of 8.
There was one young bull in the group, whereas the rest were cows. My son and I agreed that we'd try to be patient and see if the bull would give us a clear look. It took a good 45 minutes of crawling and waiting, but finally the bull stood and presented a broadside shot. My son has taken three shots at big game so far - and has brought home three caribou in that time. I'm pretty proud!
Right after he fired, a really large bull jumped out of a small depression further down the valley and started running. My friend who had joined my son and I tried to pursue that bull, but he couldn't manage to close the distance.
The pack back was a bit of a slog, but my son had a great attitude as we ticked off the miles under heavy packs. We eventually met up with my brother and nephew, and the boys felt pretty damn satisfied as they walked into camp several hours later.
My buddy did manage to fill his tag the following morning with another young bull.
Moose hunting in the weeks to follow was a bust. You wouldn't think that finding a bull would be all that tough, but I found myself in alder hellholes that made spot and stalk hunting impossible. I did have a few exciting moments (such as being surrounded by three bears in the darkness - seeing those eyes illuminated by my headlamp on three sides of me was enough to wake me up), but no moose were harmed. I also parked my plane in the brush at the end of one strip - oops - but the damage was mostly to my pride.
I had some other plans to continue hunting well into the fall and early winter, but life dealt my family a huge curveball and...we're just trying to hang on at this point. The hardships, though, do put into perspective the value of these family hunts. This hunt wasn't at all what I expected, but I'm glad it worked out as it did.
... doesn't matter... 
