William Leslie: May 23, 1943 – August 27, 2010

Sometimes even the expected is still unexpected.

The delivery of a child, for nine months you know it’s coming, but when your wife looks at you and says; “honey, its time.” You’re never really prepared.

Drifting bait along a sandbar for hours on end – slowly you are lulled into daydreaming. Then the bite comes. Startling you out of your stupor – yes you were fishing, but the bite was still unexpected.

Crawling to the top of the ridge, peeking over again hoping this will be the one. Ridge after ridge, valley after valley you walk, search and hoping. Then without warning, from thirty yards he steps from behind a spruce tree standing there in all his magnificence.

Following your Brittany through a CRP, watching as his tail comes to a halt, his nose to the ground......moving in the flush so close to your boot catches you off guard.

Sitting at a ball game watching your son play, caught up in the joy of his shinning moment. An email alerts you that a dear friend has passed on; unexpected

Human beings are good at avoiding the things we know we can’t change. We know all of us will leave this earth; some of us have had to face that reality too many times, and far too often. Still, while we know this reality is coming, when it happens - it is unexpected.

A few weeks ago, we all received some bad news when Bill told us his diagnosis. At the hearing of the news, we felt a hole beginning to grow in our hearts, a sadness for the unexpected. A void was being created for which we can never fully heal. And while we knew that the prognosis wasn’t good, we never expected this day to be here so soon. To some, this void in our heart is a bad thing, for us on this day, it’s a glorious thing. Because for us, the hole is filled with memories of a man we all loved deeply.

Someone once asked; “Is a legend made by the way you live your life, or the way you’re remembered after you are gone?”

I’m not sure as I write this that I know the answer to that question, but one thing I do know, is that for many people, Bill Leslie was a legend in his time, and will remain a legend long after he is gone. For me, and for all those who shared a moose camp, deer camp, sheep hunt, or whatever you were after, you saw one of the best at their craft.

In all of my years of hunting, all over this country with a lot of different people, one thing I know is that it is rare to find someone who shares your passion and approach to this fine sport. Bill and I had that connection. We didn’t talk about it much, but we both knew it. When we hunted together we didn’t have to say a lot to one another, we knew what the other was thinking, what they were seeing, and feeling. I knew that he knew what was going on. That was and remains a rarity in our sport, and in our lives.

For the men and women who hunt this Gakona valley for years to come, stories will be told. Stories about a pot bellied bald headed man who called this ole place home for over 35 years. This valley was more Bills home that his house in North Pole – here is where he felt free, where he felt alive. Sitting in this expanse of nothingness where many find seclusion, Bill found fulfillment and joy.

Most people will spend their lives searching for the peace and joy Bill found each time he rode along this track to this trailer. I saw it the first time I rode out here with him. Standing on the side of the track rig for three hours as we plodded along this path, I saw someone who loved this place with a passion seldom seen. When we crested the ridge with the valley lying below, a sigh came from his chest, and his eyes lit up like a groom seeing his bride for the first time. I didn’t know why then, but I would learn in the coming weeks we spent together why. This was his sanctuary.

It is fitting that we are spreading his ashes here, at this place, and at this time. This was his favorite place and his favorite time of year. As the seasons change, and the leaves turn vibrant colors reminding us of God’s glory and majesty; we too are changed, and our lives turn and we stand here and remember. The void we feel in our heart may not ever heal, the emptiness will linger for some of us for the rest of our lives, and that’s ok. Each time we crest this hill and stare into this valley we will remember Bill Leslie. We will honor his life, his legacy and we will know once again, that we are all better people for having known him.

Stories will remain as one generation passes onto another, laughter will be heard around the campfire as another story is told, hot links are eaten and someone shares a moment in time. That for them has become an eternal flame in their memory of Bill. Because we know, that while we expected one day to be here doing this for our friend, his lasting impact on our lives and hearts was unexpected.

So I raise a glass to my friend, Bill Leslie, may you rest in peace, and may I always remember – my dear friend, may I always remember. . . . . . . . .