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, Day Two Entry Four, Great Birding

 Entry No. 4

Great Birding

Karl is sitting on the gravel bar that appears in front of camp at low tide.   He stands and waves at us.   “Bear or moose,” he shouts.

 

It’s shortly after breakfast—and after Karl washed the dishes and took his folding chair and book out to the gravel.

 

We gather our cameras and head out in the direction Karl indicates.   Getting there means climbing down a bank about six feet high to the tidal flats, but I make it without falling.

 

Off in the distance, far out of range of our long lenses, is a moose out in the open meadow.   It spots us and begins moving.

Too far away for a good shot.  Unusual to  see moose in bear country.

 

I try to get closer and come upon a pile of bear scat.  It has not been touched by the tide, so I figure it might be from the bear that Karl had rendezvoused with near the outhouse this morning.   I check around, find  bear tracks, and follow them a few feet to the bank.  

 

The bank is much lower here and I see where the bear climbed it easily.   I also see a bear trail into the forest in the general direction of the outhouse.

 

By this time, I’ve taken a couple shots of the far-away moose and returned to the group.

Nice rack.   That's something you can say to a moose but never to a woman.

 

“You know the old question, “Does a moose poop in the woods?’ ”   I ask.   

“ The answer is, 'No, it doesn’t.   It poops on the beach and then goes into the woods.’”   I tell them about the bear trail heading toward camp.

 

As we reach the high bank by camp, someone spots a couple bald eagles high in a spruce and we take a few shots.

 

 

As we’re eating our bratwurst lunch, a bear strolls along the far shore of Shelter Creek.   It is the right size as the clamming bear so we believe it’s the same bear.

 

We watch it make its slow progress.  We take photos at intervals and go to the high bank spot to watch it walk through the meadow with Iliamna and the spires in the background.   It’s a breath-taking scene on a beautiful day. 

Black spot along the meadow is the bear, dwarfed by Iliamna.

 

In the afternoon, I go to my tent to get something and my sleeping bag tempts me with an invitation I can’t resist.

 

Next thing I know, Ronnie’s shouting at me and it’s dinner time, which is a huge bowl of delicious, homemade loaded baked potato soup.   We see some shorebirds called yellowlegs right in front of camp.

 

Soon, Karl is back out on the gravel bar and waves to us that he sees a great blue heron.   We scramble.  The bird had been in the trees around camp earlier.

 

It’s a long way off, like the moose in the morning.   We saunter along, dodging water left by the receding tide.

 

The first bird we are close enough to photograph is a kingfisher perched on an overturned tree root structure.

Kingfisher is almost in the center of the photo.

 

As we’re watching that, I spot a raptor in flight, jack up my shutter speed and shoot!

 

It’s a northern harrier.   Another great bird spotting.

Woo-hoo!   Bird in flight and it's in focus.

 

I get some so-so pictures of the heron and we head back to camp.

 

Much later, Eddy walks out to the beach.

See him?   Follow the green at left out past the center where the land meets the creek mouth.   That wee black spot is Eddy.

 

Sigh, it's our last night here.  Tomorrow we will head to the lodge.

Clouds moving in portend an overcast day tomorrow.   Here's hoping it doesn't rain.

Fur and Feathers Journals 2024, Entry No. Three, Ronnie Tries to Keep Me from Peril

Entry No. Three

Ronnie Tries to Keep Me from Peril

You know how far it is to get help?” says Ronnie, our co-host at Shelter Creek tent camp.   “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“I know,”   I reply.   “I don’t want to get hurt either, but we can get closer.  We can get a lot closer.”

 

Ronnie eyes the Coastal brown bear ahead of us on the beach of Cook Inlet.  “But….”

A few minutes earlier, game-spotter Karl signaled to us that he saw a bear on the beach.  We trudged over and there’s medium-sized bear digging clams.

 

We are so far away the bear looks like a tiny black spot in our  long lenses.

Using all 500mm of my big lens and not cropped so the bear was much farther than it appears in this photo.

 

“Ronnie, I know the bears around here might not be as habituated as the bears farther up the coast at Silver Salmon Creek, but that bear is relaxed.   Look at its ears.   They aren’t laid back.”

 

The bear continued to dig razor clams as we slowly approach.   

 

“It takes a long time to get medical help, especially when the weather’s bad.” Ronnie says.

 

I smile, but don’t let Ronnie see it.   I felt the same way the first time I came over here and Rick Collins led us to these dangerous creatures.

 

 

As always, we pause for an “insurance shot.”   Just in case we never get anything more opportunities, it’s our safety photo.

“Okay, let’s not approach it directly.   Walk toward the water.   That way, the bear has a clear escape route to the forest.”  Don’t I sound like a bear guide?   I laugh to myself and imagine I’m channeling former guide Rick , the best bear guide I know.

 

We slowly get closer.  I’m thinking not only bear safety but also photo angles and background, direction of the sun, and composition.

 

The bear continues digging clams.   We are still a long way away.

 

Ronnie is darned near apoplectic by the time I stop. He’s right behind my shoulder, murmuring in my ear about getting hurt.   We are still about 70 feet away and I know we can safely approach, but I stop.  Ronnie’s our cook. Can’t have the cook disabled by nervous naufragii.

 

In Ronnie’s defense, this is his first time as a host at bear camp.   Alicia and I have been to Silver Salmon Creek lodge several times.   Eddie is also a first-timer here but I’m not sure he believes the stories I told him.

Love it when the sun turns the hide golden.

The bear’s ears are at the right attitude, the hackles aren’t standing up, and—best of all—it continues digging for clams.

 

It glances at us occasionally, but for the most part just goes about its business.  Many, many generations of Coastal brown bears have lived here and they are accustomed to humans.    “Habituated"  the correct word.

 

I have seen sows lie down on their backs and nurse their cubs not 30 feet from me!  They are most vulnerable to attack in that position. I have seen them send their cubs up a tree near us and leave us to babysit the cubs.   A friend who used to setnet for salmon here told many stories of bears that trusted him with their cubs.  The sows know the boars won’t come close when humans are there.

 

I wouldn’t try this with any other bears in any other location.   They are still wild and dangerous and unpredictable.   But here?   Bear manners above all.   Don’t walk in front of them.   Keep the group close together to appear large.   Don’t crowd them, don’t move quickly, don’t run, stay quiet.   Even if they walk straight toward you, stay calm and they won’t bother you.  Stay extra vigilant with boars, but with such hairy coats, who can tell?

 

Several times I’ve had these bears walk within five or six feet of me.

 

I watch Eddie crouching low to get a great angle with his camera.   I’d be down there, too, but it would take all three of them to get me back upright.

I'm really happy that Eddie is getting his shots.   Sitting in camp while Karl watches for bears is entirely different method than what we have coming up when we go to the main lodge.

Incoming tide.

 

The tide’s coming in and soon the bear must leave.   So will we.

Kelp in the sand.

We trudge back to camp for a lunch of bratwurst.   Ronnie has returned to normal.

 

Karl goes out on the gravel bar with his book and chair.

 

 

See Silver Salmon Creek along the right coast just above  "Cook Inlet ?"   We are south of there around the knob  of land.

 

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!