Above the Arctic Circle

In 1984, Karen and I flew into a small lake by float plane, accompanied by our friends and expert hikers Denis and Elaine Davis. In succeeding days, we journeyed on foot over a steep mountain range, saw a wolf print in the mud, endured clouds of mosquitoes followed by summer snows, and saw Dall sheep and caribou. All the while, we were a bit on edge because of the possibility of encountering grizzly bears.

We prepared for bear encounters as best we could. We wore bells on our boots to warn the bears of our presence (the common wisdom of the time). This part of the Brooks Range is entirely treeless, so we couldn't hang our food; instead we triple-bagged each meal to reduce odors. At night we set our packs about 50 yards from the tents; to warn us of intruders, we balanced our pots and pans precariously on the packs so we could hear something getting into our supplies. Finally, we set small net bags of mothballs atop the packs to try and overpower the aroma of food with a strong chemical smell. It must have worked, because we never had unwelcome nighttime visitors.

Early one morning Denis woke us by saying "You guys might want to get up; there's a grizzly out here!" We were out of the tent in a flash. We then watched a grizzly bear ambling up the valley below us, about a quarter mile away. We were thrilled, but hoping that the bear wouldn't turn in our direction. Fortunately, it didn't; it just continued up the valley. What I remember most is how the huge body rippled as it moved along--fat from feeding but clearly muscular at the same time ... like a Sumo wrestler.

Later in the hike we encountered thousands upon thousands of caribou during their seasonal migration, and fished for grayling and trout in Kurupa Lake. On our next-to-last day, we saw another grizzly. This one was on the other side of a narrow stretch of Kurupa Lake from us. We saw it coming down the lakeshore, then it paused and began digging furiously in the burrows of arctic ground squirrels. It continued doing this for perhaps fifteen minutes, but we didn't see it actually catch a squirrel. The power and speed of its digging was astounding and a bit frightening. We were hoping that when it stopped digging, it wouldn't come around the lake and end up in the middle of our camp. Fortunately, it turned around and soon left the scene. It wasn't until the end of the trip that Denis told us he had heard there were "herds" of grizzlies at Kurupa Lake. Fortunately, we missed them.

The next day, two weeks after the beginning of our hike, the float plane returned for us. We said goodbye to one of the most significant times of our lives.

The bear Olympics

In 1992 Karen and I hiked the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park; what I remember most is seeing a dozen scattered black bears during the hike. All were feeding on plants growing in the high subalpine meadows, and only one was a bit intimidating. We surprised it along a trail, and it moved off the trail grudgingly, seemingly grumbling about our presence with its continuous mutterings.

On another hike, to the Enchanted Valley of the Olympic Mountains on the 1991 Memorial Day weekend, there was snow on the mountainsides all around the valley. A bear came into the valley, feeding on the fresh plant growth. I decided to sneak up and photograph it with a short telephoto lens--meaning I would have to be pretty close to get a good picture. I got close enough that the bear bluff-charged me twice: I decided that was quite enough and retreated. Then we watched as a national park ranger (who should have known better) tried to get close enough to the bear to photograph it with a point-and-shoot camera. The bear also bluff-charged him several times. I hope he got his picture! By the way, I don't advise getting close enough for a bear to bluff charge--after all, next time he may not be bluffing!

On still another hike, this time in Grand Valley of Olympic National Park, we spotted a black bear grazing on the ripe autumn blueberries high on a mountainside. We decided to try and photograph the bear, so we angled our way up the mountainside and got pretty close to it, but it saw us and gradually moved away. Later, a young female wilderness ranger came into our camp and said "I hear you were harassing a bear." Someone had tattled on us! The ranger dutifully warned us about getting too close to the wildlife; then she hiked away.

A year later, again in Grand Valley, we encountered the same ranger on our way into the valley. After chatting with her for a few minutes, she said "Oh--I remember you. You were photographing the bear last year." We didn't see any bears on that trip; it's probably just as well--I might have been cited for "animal harassment"!

For another bear tale, click here to see my story: "The Chiwaukum Enigma."

As I'm writing this in early 2001, there is a controversy about drilling for oil on the Arctic Plain. Since we've been to the lonely land north of Alaska's Brooks Range, we have an intense interest in it. That region remains passionately in our memories as the wildest place we've ever been--and one of the most remote places on earth. Based on our experiences, we hope the drilling never occurs, but someday, if the country really needs the oil as a raw material for manufacturing medicines or something equally vital, it will be there. In the meantime, let's use someone else's oil to fuel our gas guzzlers.