An Emmonak man died this weekend following a snowmachine accident on the Yukon River. Martin Moore Jr., 53, left his house Saturday morning to hunt geese. That evening, he was pronounced dead at the Nome hospital. KYUK talked with the man who stayed by Moore’s side throughout that long day.
Anothony Hootch, 51, was Martine Moore Jr.’s hunting partner and friend. He was with Moore the day he died.
“I didn’t leave him," said Hootch. "He told me not to leave him. Told me to hold his hand. So I held his hand the whole time until he stopped breathing."
That time lasted about 10 hours on the bank of the Yukon River. Temperatures were in the 40s.
Hootch and Moore had known each other since grade school. Both in their early 50’s, the men had been hunting together half their lives.
On Saturday morning, May 6, snow geese were the target. They climbed on their snowmachines, left Emmonak, and headed down the frozen Yukon to the sea.
Moore was riding ahead. Then he asked Hootch to take lead.
“So I took off, and I went on bigger ice, more solid. There was young ice, both sides, all around.”
A couple minutes later, Hootch looked behind him. He saw an empty snowmachine 300 yards away, and his friend, laying on the ground.
Turning around, he raced to Moore's side.
“For the first minute or two, there was no response. But then he woke up. Maybe he heard my voice. He said, ‘How bad is it?’ I said, ‘Real bad, not good.’”
Moore had a major head wound. The skin was peeled off the top of his skull. He told Hootch his back hurt. Kneeling on the ice, Hootch took off his own shirt and wrapped his friend’s head to stop the bleeding.
Then he pulled out a VHF radio to call for help. But there was only static. The men were 20 miles out of town.
Hootch lifted Moore onto his snowmachine and carried him to land. He didn’t want to move him because of his back. But Hootch knew he couldn’t leave his friend where the tide could reach him.
“So I put him on the best spot I could think of. I told him, ‘I see a little hill over there with lots of snow on top and bushes.’ I told him, ‘I’m going to go there and try to make a call.’”
Hootch rode up the hill. He stood on his snomachine and reached the VHF antenna in the air to get a signal. There, he made contact with Grant Aviation in Emmonak.
It was about 10 a.m. A half hour later, Grant air dropped a medical kit. An hour after that, they dropped another kit, along with water, food, a sleeping bag, and two radios.
Some things did not survive the drop. The water burst. One radio broke. Hootch left the food. And covered Moore with the sleeping bag. He opened the medical kits and unwound the shirt he’d wrapped around his friend’s head. It was soaked in blood.
“So I used the gauze, but I couldn’t move his head no more. It was too much pain. Too much pain when I lifted his head. I couldn’t go completely all the way around it to stop it.”
Hootch took off his Carhartt jacket and sweater to cover his friend. He tore open a survival blanket to lay over him. He pushed foam bird decoys underneath Moore’s body to insulate him from the ground.
All the while, Hootch kept Moore talking.
“Anything that would come up out of my head. Did a lot of Hail Mary’s, Our Father’s and all that.”
Hootch said that one time he called for help and the two times he retrieved the drop bags were the only moments he left his friend’s side. Or let go of his hand.
After about 10 hours of praying endless rosaries, Moore went silent. Two minutes later, around 7:45 Saturday evening, a helicopter appeared. It was the U.S. Coast Guard. They’d launched from Kodiak that afternoon after getting a call from State Troopers that an overland rescue wasn’t safe.
The crew loaded the men into the helicopter and flew to the Nome hospital. When they landed, Moore was pronounced dead.
“I’ll miss him. That’s all I know. Hunting. We’d communicate. See where all the birds are.”
Hootch says he’ll now go hunting with his sons.
Moore leaves behind eight children, seven grandchildren, and his wife, Evelyn Moore. He was the family provider, a commercial fisherman, a former village police officer, and a Search and Rescue member.
Evelyn says she’ll miss her husband’s humor, his generosity, and his vigilant thoughtfulness. Her sons will now become the providers. She says her husband taught them well.
