Ranching the Aleutians.

Two Canadian cattle ranchers have found a way to make beef a business on the Aleutian Chain.

Wild Alaska salmon - you've heard the fisherman's battle cry against hatchery raised fish. But are you familiar with wild Alaska beef? Two cowboys from Alberta, Canada hope so.

Far-flung in the Bering Sea on Umnak Island, herds of cattle munch their days away without the curse of predators and disease lurking in the Aleutian grass.

Some of the pinto-patterned descendants, introduced to the island by Russians, slurp kelp on the beach just as their bovine kin did in the 1700s. However, most of the 5,000 head wandering these Aleutian Fox Islands today were planted by present day ranchers who failed to turn a profit in the 1960s.

When Bering Pacific Ranches Ltd. stepped aboard in 1993, the wild cattle had roamed unmanaged for more than 30 years. That wild purity is what partners Pat Harvie and Bruce Hubbard hope will sell their beef.

Cheap Beef

Umnak is pretty far afloat in the Pacific to raise livestock and still make a profit. In fact it's farther west than Hawaii. But Harvie and Hubbard say that despite the great shipping distance, raising herds on the Aleutian Chain is still cheaper than on the Alberta prairie.

In Alberta, the cost to raise cattle runs up to $5,000 per unit, versus $200 per unit on the Aleutian chain, says vice president Harvie.

Costs are low on the Aleutians because there is no need to feed the cattle grain or hay, nor to purchase expensive machinery to distribute feed.

The wind-blown island is a cattle smorgasbord with all the belly high grass a cow can eat. Harvie and Hubbard don't have to buy land either. They lease more than 80,000 acres on Umnak near Nikolski and at Fort Glenn. The three herds they purchased have no fences to bind their palate. Some run loose near Chernofski on nearby Unalaska Island, where the company doesn't lease land.

Marketing is the do-or-die hurdle, says state meat grader Doug Warner with the Division of Agriculture. "There's cheap grass, cheap land, but everything stops being cheap the moment the animal is slaughtered," Warner says. Big companies in the Lower 48 beat the Aleutian operation with their lower labor and transportation costs.

"It doesn't have a good history."

Making it Work

However, Bering Pacific Ranches is doing something previous ranchers didn't, putting an organic spin on the product to command a higher price.

"It has the potential to be a real shining star for Alaska in terms of livestock production," says Warner, a development specialist who helped with meetings between Bering Pacific Ranches and Pacific Rim meat buyers.

Harvie says setting up infrastructure has hogged all their money and time. They've plunked down $3 million for the entire operation, yet haven't broken even.

"We're close to turning a corner," Harvie says. "We can't get bank financing because they don't like wild cows as collateral." Harvie and Hubbard raised the money on their own with a state loan and the help of 22 shareholders.

They are pitching their Aleutian beef to Japan and the Lower 48. In Alaska, Carrs Quality Centers sells their burgers under the label Alaska Natural Beef.

"It's moving," says meat cutter Ernie Blohm at the Carrs in Wasilla.

In the past three years, the Canadians have brought 780 head to market. That doesn't include the 350 head of reindeer, which they slaughtered one year for the St. George Native Corp.

Of their beef, they proclaim its purity. No hormones, no stimulants nor antibiotics, only natural selection. If a cow is weak it dies, and its genes aren't passed on.

In fact the herd is certified as organic by the Oregon Tilth Certified Organic association.

"We're one of the few beef producers in their listing," Harvie says.

The USDA recently approved putting an organic stamp on beef. Harvie says he hopes that bureaucratic change will boost sales of their kippered beefsticks, sausage, and rib eye - among other meat products.

Trouble on the Range

Of course with wild cattle come hang-on-to-your-stirrups stories.

"Most of the cattle had never seen a man before, and figured our boys should be run off the island," states the company's Web site at www.alaskanatural.com. Harvie remembers how a bull's temper flared during roundup. It chased a cowboy into a bog, and gored the horse's behind.

"We stitched her up with dental floss and she was good as new, but more leery about the cattle," Harvie says.

Another time two cowboys, distracted by welding, were beat up badly by a bull who flew at them and tossed them around on his horns. The men had to be medivaced to Anchorage.

A man can't walk among the feral herds as he does among domestic bovines. Close to the USDA-certified slaughter house, built from relics at Fort Glenn, an air force base used during WW II, is an eight-foot corral fence which workers use to leap from the wrath of a charging bull.

Rounding up cattle on Umnak isn't just a matter of horseback riding. The cowboy with the greatest corralling power is a helicopter.

Without it, a cowboy must ride 20 to 30 miles just to find the cattle. By then his horse is spent and the cattle remains fresh and spirited. On horse, only 20 cattle regularly come in; with a helicopter 200 to 300 hoof it over the hill at one time. The helicopter works the valleys, pushing the cows toward the slaughterhouse. Meanwhile, from the saddle, a cowboy in constant communication via VHF radio is ready when the herd shows its hide.

Meanwhile, getting the meat thousands of miles to market in Seattle isn't so difficult as getting the meat onto the freighter just a mile off shore. Freighters are already in the area because of the nation's largest fish producer, 100 miles northeast at Dutch Harbor. But gale force winds constantly blow. Big waves crash the beach as they try to load a barge with a back-hoe.

"It's difficult to hit the barge with an 1,800 pound pallet of frozen beef over a moving target," Harvie says.

Tourism on the Range

Bering Pacific Ranches isn't all beef.

A group of tourists are expected to head out this summer to what Harvie calls "amazing country." They will hike mountains, fish for Dolly Varden and halibut and watch the cowboys gallop off. Guests can also get a peek at the island's history since Fort Glenn was activated to protect Dutch Harbor after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

"The tourism potential hasn't even been tapped. It's unreal," says Harvie, "but we're busy getting the meat sold."

All this cowboy drama is played out with a gurgling volcano at their backs. In February of 1997, volcano Okmok spewed a plume 2,500 feet up while the cowboys minded the horns. They had to cover their generators with pillow slips to keep out the volcanic dust.