The need for adventure calls to each of us in different ways. For my brother Jason and me, that call came in the form of an epic 16-day, 150-mile hunting and hiking expedition through the remote and untamed wilderness of the Northwest Territories. Led by a cheeky canadian guide from Arctic Red River Outfitters, this wasn’t just any adventure—it was our first long hiking expedition of this scale. The challenge? To push our limits, tote all our gear, and see if we had what it takes to survive with minimal resources in one of the last true wildernesses on Earth - All in search of elusive and majestic creatures.
Neither Jason nor I grew up with hunting in our blood. We’re California natives, born and raised, and while Jason’s time at Oregon State (Go Beavs!) and my Roll Tide years in Alabama exposed us to some true outdoorsmen, we never imagined we’d become so ingrained in the culture. Back then, the idea of venturing into the wilderness to hunt big game seemed like a distant fantasy. Fast forward 20-25 years, and we’ve found ourselves on some of the most incredible hunts we never dreamed possible. It’s been a wild journey, one we’re thankful to have stumbled into—right until the moment when we were staring up a near-vertical mountain and wondering if a helicopter evac would even reach us.
This is a little recollection of our great MisAdventure. Maybe you’ll be inspired to go far, say yes and do cool shit like we do.
“Adventure Awaits: We Said Yes Without a Clue”
Jason and I have had many adventures over the years, from our 17,000-kilometer drive from London to Mongolia to our impromptu six-month sojourn through South America, and a litany of storybook-worthy misadventures in between. But this type of extreme adventure was new to us, and as you’ll come to learn, we’re completely hooked—and possibly out of our minds.
For years, Jason and I had dreamed of taking on a serious wilderness expedition—maybe climbing Mt. Whitney, or finding a way to the top of Aconcagua. We were no strangers to the outdoors, but the idea of a 150-mile trek with only one resupply of food stirred both excitement and a little bit of anxiety. You see, this trip was planned six years in advance…but not for us. It was originally set up for my brother’s brother-in-law. Long story short, he couldn’t go, so he offered the trip to Jason, who in turn invited me, and our “say yes” mentality meant there was no stopping us.
“Survival 101: How to Fit Everything You Need (and Don’t) Into One Bag”
It wasn’t just the physical endurance—we’d have to mentally prepare ourselves for the riggers of sustained uncomfort. Yearning for such discomfort and exhilaration meant when the opportunity to go on a guided hunting trip with Arctic Red River Outfitters presented itself, we couldn’t pass it up. The preparation phase was an adventure in itself. We trained for weeks, upping our stamina with long hikes, endurance workouts, and training with 80lb packs on our backs.
The Mission:
Hunting for Dall sheep, moose, caribou, and if we were lucky, a wolf or even a wolverine. If we were unlucky, getting chased by the last two.
A Note on Ethical Hunting for the Anti-Hunting Reader:
We are committed to ethical hunting, focusing only on mature animals, ensuring the sustainability of populations. Every hunt is respectful, and nothing goes to waste— all the meat is utilized, providing nourishment and honoring the animal.
Ethical hunting plays a vital role in wildlife conservation, helping maintain balanced ecosystems, deter poaching, and support local economies. Unlike the unchecked destruction caused by illegal poaching, which threatens species with extinction (often driven by demand for animal products in countries like China), sustainable hunting practices protect these animals by attaching value to their long-term survival. For example, regulated hunting funds conservation programs, generates income for communities, and provides incentives for local populations to safeguard habitats. Without this, rampant poaching for profit—like the illegal trade targeting elephants, rhinos, and other big game—would run unchecked. Ethical hunters invest in wildlife through license fees, funding for national parks, and anti-poaching patrols, ensuring future generations can experience nature’s wonders. If not for these efforts, many species would be under severe threat, leaving fragile ecosystems vulnerable. Sustainable hunting transforms hunters into protectors, balancing human needs with the stewardship of the wild.
The reality is, without regulated hunting, certain cultures might continue to exploit animals for short-term gain, while ethical hunting channels that energy into long-term conservation, safeguarding the majestic creatures we all want to protect.
Into the Wild: Days 1-5—Welcome to the Twilight Zone
We flew into Norman Wells, NWT, Canada, on a private airstrip during the massive forest fires they had there at the end of August 2023. If you’ve never been to Norman Wells, picture the weirdest little town you can think of. Now picture that, but with a troubled past, and even fewer prospects for the future. No bars, no restaurants, no one seemed to want to work, and the place felt like a cut-off, tiny community on the edge of the Arctic Circle, where summer days last all night, and winter nights last all day. Seriously, even the local dogs seemed to be operating on their own strange time loop.
Flying into camp on a small cargo plane to bring hunters and supplies to base camp was easy enough. After a little meet and greet, some food, and a quick few fires of our rifles to make sure they were zeroed in and ready for the hunt, we were off in a canvas-winged, ultralight Super Cub. This amazing little plane could land in a riverbed with just 100 feet of bumpy runway. A true miracle of aviation.
Day 1 felt like stepping into another world. The landscapes were vast and untouched, mountains rising in every direction as far as the eye could see. There’s nothing quite like that first breath of cold mountain air, filling your lungs and reminding you that you’re about as far from civilization as you could get. We set out with our packs heavy, spirits high, and completely unaware of how this adventure would lead us. The first mountain ascent felt like a preview of hell—we were halfway up and already thinking, “Wait, we have to do this for 16 days?”
Days 2-5 were filled with a mix of anticipation and increasing dread. We scouted for sheep, scaling loose rock hillsides and crossing rushing streams. Our feet and backs were starting to feel the weight, and every day the terrain seemed to mock us a little more. On the third day, we lugged 80-pound backpacks through valleys, setting up camp wherever we could find a flat spot. By day five, the weather turned, unleashing rain and fridge arctic air that permeated all layers of clothing. We had to pitch our tents in a dry patch near a river since we were unable to find suitably flat high ground. We spent the whole night expecting to wake up floating downstream, but luckily, the rain subsided, leaving us shivering, miserable, and somehow still optimistic.
Pushing Limits: Days 6-10—Why Are We Doing This Again?
Day 6 started with the realization that the honeymoon phase of this trip was over. The mountains loomed larger, the packs felt heavier, and our legs reminded us of every damn mile we had traveled. We hadn’t seen any animals worth chasing, just a few young sheep off in the distance—too young, too fast, and way too smart to fall for our attempts at stealth. The mental struggle was real. There’s something about being days away from any form of civilization that forces you to dig deep into reserves you didn’t know you had.
Day 7 was one of the toughest. We chased sheep for hours, only to realize they were too young. After a grueling 7-mile trek up and down near-vertical mountain sides, we decided to leave camp and head out for the next location which of course meant scaling another mountain. It was brutal—our legs were burning, and at one point, I turned to Jason and said, “This is fucking bullshit.” But we kept moving, because what else could we do? We made the summit and executed a near perfect descent, carefully navigating the Grizzly and her cub. We scaled down through another valley before finding our next prime camping spot.
Day 8 brought a turning point. We stumbled into the most beautiful valley, and I finally got to see a herd of caribou, like something out of a National Geographic special. From about 300 yards out, after a bit of back and forth on who should take the shot, I got my caribou. A glorious creature, massive and regal. We spent hours packing it out, hauling the meat and antlers to a landing strip where a plane would collect it the next morning. We felt energized and optimistic for the Dall sheep, Jason's Caribou and a little ol’ Moose.
The Resupply and Renewed Energy: Day 11—Christmas Came Early
By Day 10, we were running dangerously low on food, but we knew a resupply was coming. That anticipation kept us moving. When the helicopter finally appeared, it was like a little camping Christmas miracle. Fresh food, supplies, and, unbelievably, a homemade pie baked by the camp cook. I mean, who sends pie to the middle of nowhere? It was a damn good pie. The kind of pie that makes you forget you haven’t showered in eleven days.
We spent that night gorging, swapping stories, and laughing about the tough moments so far. Out there, even the smallest comforts—like pie—felt like luxury.
The Final Push: Days 12-16—Misery Loves Company
With fresh energy from our mid-adventure Christmas miracle, we set out to tackle the final leg of our journey. We were determined to find our Dall sheep, despite our bodies withering away.
Day 11 - another 20 mile day - This is the day we chased a sheep for about 10 hours, stalking it, sludging through rain, cowering along the sides of near vertical cliffs. Finally Jason had his sights on the magnificent Sheep perched on a boulder protruding from the mountain side as if it were peering at its vast mountain kingdom. We couldn't get closer than 600 yards away, but with Jason’s 300 PRC Fierce Firearms Rifle, that distance was completely manageable. Jason asked the guide if it was old enough. At the last second the guide decided it wasn’t and in an instant our dreams were shattered. What to do next? Jason still had a Moose and Caribou to pursue, but the real reason for this trip was the Dall Sheep. The problem is the sheep live in different parts of the range from the other two species so you have to choose which animal to go after. We were wrecked and decided to go one more day for the sheep. If we didn't have any luck, we were going to have the Helicopter pick us up and drop us off in Moose country.
By Day 12, though, reality was bitch slapping us hard. We had hiked, climbed, and cursed our way through some of the toughest terrain on earth, and yet the Dall sheep continued to elude us. Our morale was at an all-time low, and it was clear we needed a new game plan. Our guide suggested we relocate to moose country, and since our brains were too fried to come up with anything better, we called in the helicopter and hoped for the best.
Day 13 brought a much-needed change of scenery and a glimmer of hope. As we flew to the next camp, we spotted a massive moose from the air. This thing was a legend—like a living, breathing truck with antlers so big they looked like two sheets of plywood attached to its head. Our excitement surged, but of course, we couldn’t hunt it immediately. Regulations required us to wait 24 hours after a chopper ride, to prevent people from just flying around, spotting game, and then shooting it. The weather was dangerous so the chopper put us down about 2 miles from our intended destination.
Day 14 was our first real moose hunting day, and it did not go as planned. We had to slog through miles of permafrost bog, the kind of stuff that makes you question every life decision leading up to that moment. Imagine trying to walk through a swampy trampoline while wearing concrete boots, and you’ve got a pretty good idea. The miles felt like they stretched on forever, and despite our efforts, the moose were nowhere to be seen. Our guide kept assuring us, “They’re out there” but at that point, I was starting to think he was just fucking with us to keep our spirits raised.
Day 15 was our last full hunting day, and by then we were desperate. We spent hours glassing the valleys, hiking through endless bogs, and pretending not to be totally defeated. Boredom set in hard, and we ended up setting up a little target practice, using a set of moose antlers we found as makeshift bullseyes. We blasted off our remaining ammunition in a friendly competition, because if you can’t find your actual target, you might as well make up a new one, right? That night, as if the universe was trying to console us, we were treated to a spectacular show of the Northern Lights. It was our first time seeing them, and for a few moments, the exhaustion and frustration melted away as we stood there, mesmerized by the colors dancing across the sky.
By Day 16, it was over. We were scheduled to head back to base camp, and not a moment too soon. The helicopter picked us up, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see anything in my life. We flew back to base, where the promise of a shower and some home-cooked food awaited us. After 16 days without a shower, that first long, hot cleanse felt about as good as peaking at a rave in Ibiza during a euro road trip. We stuffed ourselves with food, swapped stories with other hunters, and finally let the weight of the trip lift off our shoulders.
The journey back to Norman Wells was a mix of relief, reflection, and a little frustration. As we packed up our gear, we saw some of the other hunters’ trophies, and our guide casually mentioned, “Oh, your sheep was probably just as big as theirs. I guess you could have shot it.” I’ve never had the desire to strangle someone in a celebratory moment, but that was a first. That Mother Fucker! Thanks, guide.
And just when we thought we’d seen it all, we got a cherry on top of this surreal journey. Back in Norman Wells, as we were processing the antlers through the fish and game department, who did we see in the immigration office? None other than country music legend Blake Shelton. Turns out he was up there hunting with Jimmy John himself, the sandwich kingpin. He seemed like a friendly celebrity, we couldn't give two shits about bothering him to say hi so we kept our distance and let the trope of local ladies indulge in 100 photos.
Lessons Learned and Why You Should Go: Embrace the Misadventure
Looking back, I realize it wasn’t just about the miles we covered or the animals we chased. It was about the journey, the laughs, the absurdity, and the lessons learned along the way. The wilderness teaches patience, resilience, and the importance of pushing through discomfort—things you’d never learn scrolling through your Instagram feed. It humbles you, makes you appreciate the simplest things (like fresh socks and pie), and reminds you that life doesn’t always go according to plan—and that’s okay. Sometimes, the best stories come from when everything goes sideways.
If you’re considering a trip like this—whether it’s your first long expedition or your hundredth—do it. The rewards far outweigh the challenges. There’s nothing quite like standing at the top of a mountain, knowing you’ve earned every step of the way. Arctic Red River Outfitters will guide you through an adventure that will change your life. And if the wild calls to you, I encourage you to answer. But pack extra underwear. Trust me on this one - also wool is the best answer to body odor.
Conclusion: The Wild Awaits (and It’s Probably Laughing at You)
The wilderness of the Northwest Territories is not for the faint of heart, but for those who dare to venture into its rugged beauty, the rewards are endless. Jason and I set out on this journey with a sense of adventure, but what we came back with was so much more—a deeper connection to nature, each other, and ourselves, not to mention a treasure trove of stories we’ll be telling for years to come. So pack your bag, lace up your boots, because the pursuit of pleasure is one of the most impactful things in life. Always say yes, go far and do cool shit. The wild is waiting, and if you’re lucky, it’ll give you a pie, some Northern Lights, and a story about Blake Shelton to boot.
