By Jay Pinsky
Earlier this year, I had the privilege of joining Mossberg’s Linda Powell in Alberta, Canada, for my first bear hunt with her and my first industry hunt alongside someone who’s been a mentor and steady resource throughout my writing journey.
When I told Hornady’s Seth Swerczek, who, along with Mossberg and Trijicon, cosponsored the hunt, he just grinned.
“You’re going to be hunting giants,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong. The bears in Alberta were massive. But after a week in High Level with W&L Outfitters, I realized I wasn’t just hunting giants; I was hunting with them.
I’m grateful for the work I get to do in the outdoor industry. As a writer and editor, I understand the unique access and insight this role affords. For many, a day in our world would be a once-in-a-lifetime dream. For me, it’s Monday.
Still, the greatest blessing in this business isn’t what we hunt, the gear we use, or even the places we go. It’s who we share these moments with. And Alberta drove that home, again and again.
Hunting bears with Linda Powell is like racing with Mario Andretti. You feel it when someone’s doing what they love, not just for work, but out of passion. Linda’s love for bears started in childhood, sparked by the black bears of North Carolina and cemented by a Maine black bear being her first successful hunt. That first big game animal would become a lifelong connection. I wouldn’t be surprised if her last hunt is for bears, too.
But Linda wasn’t the only giant in camp.
Trijicon’s trusted contractor, Eddie Stevenson, joined us as well. If you haven’t met Eddie, you should. Not just because he knows Trijicon glass like the back of his hand but also because he’s a devoted hunter, a proud father, and a resilient husband. He’s also a man of deep faith who credits his entire journey to God’s grace. Eddie’s quiet strength and openness reminded me to slow down and be grateful throughout the week. When he described the family culture at Trijicon, it all made sense, and I saw that optics company in a whole new light.
Also in camp was Fred Mastison, one of the most prolific writers in our field. You’ve likely read his work or seen his resume: firearms expert, martial artist, executive protection trainer, military and law enforcement instructor, and more. Spend five minutes with Fred, and you’ll see it all confirmed. But what I’ll remember most isn’t any of that, but his kindness, humility, and quiet attentiveness to everyone in camp. In an industry where egos sometimes outweigh accomplishments, Fred is a rare and refreshing presence.
Then, there was my roommate for the week, Rich Nance. A retired police officer and master firearms instructor, Rich brought wisdom, calm, and empathy to our shared cabin and to my personal bear stand battle. One evening, anxiety got the best of me while I was hunting, and Rich helped me reset my mind. The great ones in our industry don’t just master their craft; they translate it into something others can use. That’s what Rich did for me.
By the end of the trip, I’d taken two exceptional bears, one at 6’6” and another, my biggest ever, at a full 6’9”. Others in camp tagged even larger bears. But the story I felt compelled to write first wasn’t about those trophies.
It was about the people.
Because in Alberta, I didn’t just find big bears.
I found true giants.