Fur and Feathers Journal, 2004, Day Three, Entry Five, Off and Flying

Off and Flying

L-R, me, Alicia, and Eddie.   Karl Arceneau photo

I wake to the tantalizing aroma of frying bacon and lie in my sleeping bag  thinking about the no-no of bacon in bear country.

 

I’ve always heard and believed that carrying or cooking bacon when tent-camping in the wild is a sure way to bring hungry, unmannered bears to your camp.   This morning, I have to laugh.  

 

Our tent camp in Lake Clark National Park and Reserve is surrounded by flimsy white tape that is electrified and is meant to keep the bears out of camp.   So far it’s worked because there is still bacon for me when I finally get out of my sleeping bag.

 

Even though the electric tape is unhooked during the day.

As feared, it's a cloudy day as we take leave of Shelter Creek.

 

My bags are packed.  This is our last morning at Shelter Creek and very soon our transportation will arrive to take us a little way north up the coast of  Cook Inlet to Silver Salmon Creek Lodge.   Imagine!  Running water.   Showers.   And, uh-oh, mirrors.  I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days, day and night.

 

Ronnie sets about frying eggs to go with the bacon and—Ronnie's innovation—Blowtorch Toast.   It’s too chilly here for butter to be spreadable so a propane torch does the butter-melting honors.

Blowtorch Toast

L-R:   Alicia, Karl, and Ronnie

 

We learn that our co-host Karl is the mayor of a small town in Louisiana and that Ronnie is an artist and muralist of some fame.  He’s also a musician with his own band.   They are the best hosts owner David could have chosen for this camp after the regular host had to leave early.

 

Oliver arrives in his Maule light plane on HUGE Tundra tires and lands on the gravel bar that appears at low tide in front of camp.   He drops off some groceries and other supplies, then takes off and lands on the beach where he has more “runway.”

 

Alicia is the first to go with Oliver, along with luggage.   Eddie, who has been dawdling, has to make a sandwich out of his breakfast and carry it to the beach to await Oliver’s return.

Eddie, left, with his impromptu breakfast sandwich, and Karl

 

I look toward Iliamna volcano but it's all fogged in.

Our bags are waiting for us on the bank at camp.   We need to get them to the beach.

Saying good-bye to Karl ands Ronnie.

Three days, same clothes, no running water, no shower, no mirror.   Karl took this photo as I was settling into Oliver's Maule.

 

 Next:   Our afternoon at Silver Salmon Creek.

Fur and Feathers Journal 2024, Entry No. Two

Entry No. Two

Danger, Danger Everywhere

 

 

 

I hear voices.

 

 

Or, I think I hear voices,

 

I’m burrowed so deeply into my flannel-lined sleeping bag that I’m not sure.  I find the flap and lift slightly.   I can see that dawn is newborn but still quite young.  With the flap open just a couple inches, I hear voices again.  

  

Well, one voice.   

 

I fight my way out of the bag and go to the tent door, unzip it, and see Karl standing outside. (Remember, I went to bed fully dressed.)  It’s Karl’s self-appointed duty to get up before everyone else in camp and start the coffee.

 

Karl explains that he’d just run into a bear near the outhouse, which is a winding walk into the forest and about 60 feet beyond the electric fence.  He says they surprised each other and the bear stood up to get a better look at him before they each went in opposite directions.    Though, says Karl, the bear walked past Eddie’s tent.  

 

He  warns us to keep our eyes open when we visit the open-air facility in the dense forest.

 

I zipped the flap closed and wake Alicia to tell her.   Then, I'm  back to my toasty-warm bed until the sun comes up and the temperature is more amenable to human survival.   There's been a series of cold storms the past few days, but the winds that tried to scour us from the earth have died down and the sky is clear.

 

Our camp is enclosed with an electric fence—two bands of white tape hooked to a battery device. The tape is unhooked during the daytime and armed at night.   

 

Bears or no, the pathway to the outhouse presents a threat.   There are blueberry bushes and Devil’s Club bushes interspersed among the huge spruce trees everywhere you look.   The blueberries attract bears and the Devil’s Club lie in wait for the unsuspecting passer-by, whence they stab you with their  horrid, hooked thorns that can cause painful punctures and skin irritation.   

I still have a scar on one hand where a thorn punctured me.

Gillifoto photo.

 

Even the huge leaves are a menace.   No wonder the plant is called Oplopanax horridus.  The stems have a multitude of thorns and even the leaves have them.

The top of the leaf.

The bottom of the leaf.

 

In the fall, Devil’s Club blooms with a cone of bright red berries.   Very striking against the rich green leaves, but the berries are toxic to humans.   Bears and moose, however, love the berries.

 

 

It’s still cold later at breakfast.   I’m working my way through a huge bowl of oatmeal with dried apricots and pecans.   It’s about four times more than I usually eat and I do what I can so I don’t insult Ronnie the Chef.

 

Alicia asks for buttered toast.  The butter is too cold to spread so the guys come to her rescue with a propane torch.   We instantly deem the bread  “Blowtorch Toast”   

Alicia's Blowtorch Toast.

Just for that, I ask for a slice of Blowtorch Toast so I can get better pix, not that I need more to eat.

And he didn't burn the paper towel!

Eddie says he thought he’d heard a bear right next to his tent during the night.  He’s been alert to every sound.   “I punched the side of the tent and yelled,” he said.  Most likely, that’s the bear Karl saw walk towards Eddie’s tent.

L-R:   Karl, Alicia, Eddie, me, Ronnie.  Karl's photo

 

Then we sit around camp, get to know our co-hosts, have serious and civil discussions about current topics, swap stories, and relax while Karl goes on the lookout for animals.  He grabs his book, carries a folding chair out to the gravel bar that appears at low tide, and settles in to wait and watch.

 

And he spots critters!