Close Encounters of the Bear Kind

Every year, 16 million pink salmon migrate to the Solomon Gulch Fish Hatchery in Valdez, Alaska, to spawn, according to Alaska.org. With this abundance of fish, everyone wants in on the action — including bears. 

On our last full day in Valdez, Bob set out mid-morning to catch his daily limit of salmon. I told him I’d come down in a little while to take a break from work. 

As I headed toward the water, my phone rang. It was Bob calling to tell me I should wait to come because of a bear in the area. I looked up and saw a black bear heading my direction. Turning on my heels, I returned to the trailer to grab my bear spray and give the beast some distance. 

It went toward some bushes and the water, away from Bob’s fishing spot. I waited a bit to ensure my safety. When the bear didn’t resurface, I decided to take my chances and head down to see Bob. Thankfully, no bear was in sight — nor were any fish. It started raining, so we retreated for the day.


Mob Mentality

Later that afternoon, 10 to 12 people gathered near our trailer, their eyes watching something in the bushes toward the water. Anytime we saw a crowd standing and staring in a certain direction in Valdez, it signaled a bear. That held true in this instance, but the crowd didn’t know the source of their attention.

As they moved behind and to the other side of our trailer to try to get a better look, a dad picked up a very large rock to defend himself and his family. I peered out our back window and noticed branches moving. I had no doubt the bear from the morning had come back, attempting to get up the cliff from shore to head home for the evening. 

The people wouldn’t back away to give it room, so I went out and told them if they’d leave the bear alone, it would go home. “What is it?” they asked. “It’s a bear,” I said. “It’s been down there all day. It lives up the hill and is probably trying to go home.”

Sure enough, as soon as the people cleared out, the bear emerged, strolling farther from our trailer but staying in the campground. Other people stood still and watched, and vehicles pulled off the road to check out the show. This prevented the bear from leaving the campground to cross the street. ​

I never saw the creature after that, but I kept my bear spray with me if I went outside, just to be safe. In reality, black bears don’t want anything to do with people. They tend to keep their distance. 


Scary Evidence

Having relatives in Alaska, I grew up hearing about remote cabins that required a boat ride to reach and always wanted to experience that. I got my chance, thanks to my cousins, Paul and Ruth. 

Bob and I joined Paul aboard his motorboat at a landing where we left Gulliver and Tagalong for a couple of nights. About 20 minutes later, we pulled ashore at a grassy area, no building in sight. By this time, Ruth had made it to the landing we left from, so we unloaded our cargo in the field, even leaving food there. (I didn’t think that wise knowing other relatives had been greeted by a grizzly when approaching land on similar trips, but I was new to the whole experience.) ​

We returned to the landing to pick up Ruth and her belongings and made our way back to our cargo, finding it undisturbed. Paul strapped a rifle to his shoulder and led the way on a half-mile hike to the cabin as we followed, carrying the food and our backpacks. Paul would go back for the heavier cargo with his four-wheeler, as ATVs are called in Alaska, after we reached the cabin.

Our hike proved uneventful, and we made it to the rustic building flanked by an outhouse without spotting any wildlife. Paul started the generator to power the outlets and lights, and Ruth and I picked wild Alaska blueberries while Bob grilled steaks. We enjoyed good conversation before turning in for the night.

The next day, after a hearty blueberry pancake breakfast, we headed back to the boat with fishing rods in hand and saw evidence that a bear had been on the trail at some point: hair stuck to a tree trunk where the grizzly had rubbed itself. The hair could have been there the night before without our noticing. 

We had planned to arrive at the cabin the day before but were delayed due to a hub on the boat trailer coming apart and damaging the spindle. Maybe there was a reason we missed that day.

Telling Tracks

Undeterred, we pressed on to the boat and cast our hooks in the water from shore. Before long, I caught my first fish in years — and my biggest ever, a grayling. I wanted more to feed us all, so I kept casting and reeling in the spinner. I got another bite at one point, but the fish wriggled off. No one else caught anything, so we decided to go for a boat ride to explore more of the creek. 

On the excursion, Paul spotted a moose. Busy trying to get my camera ready, I didn’t see it. Rookie mistake. I did see swans, ducks, and a bald eagle, though. 

We pulled ashore on a sandbar and got out to look around. Large footprints made it clear we were in bear country. Other tracks revealed that a moose, a wolf, birds, and a small critter like a fox had also visited the sandbar. The sobering evidence put our heads on a swivel as we reboarded the boat and headed another direction. ​

Stopping in a lake, we fished from the boat. Paul caught and released a small grayling. Bob did the same. But then Bob caught one big enough to keep. That, combined with my fish, made for a decent snack for the four of us. 

After returning to our original docking point, with me driving the boat for part of the time, we hiked back to the cabin, stopping to pick blueberries before rain forced us inside.

The sun shone brightly the following morning, and we picked more blueberries for a couple of hours before packing to return to our regular lives. 

What an amazing experience to spend a weekend at a remote cabin, immersed in the quiet of nature and away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. 

We were told we’d sense a bear if it were nearby, that the hair on the back of our necks would stand up. We never got that feeling, but the remote experience definitely gave us a greater respect for bears. We’re grateful for our safety, the opportunity we had, the time of rejuvenation and family. 

​You might also like Attack of the Killer Cardinal.