Baranof and Admiralty Islands, Southeast Alaska
"Hey down there, those salmon are mine! Move on.....please.”
It was the day of the bear. Not much more can be said for all else pales when compared to those moments of the morning when we were face to face with a coastal grizzly bear. We had hoped and we had wished for even just a tiny glimpse before the voyage was through. But no one had even dared to think that this symbol of the wild would let us peer so deeply into his world.
The day actually started with a strange ephemeral feel. Mountains and valleys, trees and shrubs appeared leucistic, the colors washed away. Even the sun wore a filmy veil so that its brilliance was muted. Only the surface of the sea sparkled with a path of gold leading to the east. Flocks of tiny Bonaparte’s gulls clustered in the intertidal zone and eagles perched on rocks and snags waiting for the gathering light to call them in to action. Harbor seals slid silently into the sea as the slowly rising tide tickled at their toes and devoured their resting islet. Their bowling ball shaped heads reappeared, spaced here and there throughout placid Hanus Bay. They seemed curious as to our mode of transport or maybe they were wondering if we too were bound to feast upon the bountiful salmon.
The salty sea pushed through a depression in the northern end of Baranof Island. It filled a hidden lagoon and met the flowing water of Hanus Creek head on. But it could advance no further than a sequence of rocky ledges. It was here in the cascades that humpback and sockeye salmon struggled to find their way back to their natal stream to reproduce and die. Some made it no further than these shallow rocky pools. Their bodies were scattered everywhere, headless, with clear impressions of sharp canine teeth around their muscular middles. There was no doubt that he was here before we even saw him. And then suddenly there he was, wading across the river, stopping now and then to snack, his bulging belly evidence that life at this time of year was good. Our presence seemed to puzzle him and he lumbered up the hill to sit quietly behind a tree and watch our activity. Once the situation had been assessed and no threat had been apparent, he went right back to eating while our camera shutters clicked. Then he went on and so did we. From that moment we were able to see the forest in its entirety. Tranquil Lake Eva was beautiful with its floating yellow pond lilies. Majestic spruce and hemlock trees stretched higher than our eyes could reach. Nurse logs hosted a myriad of mosses, ferns and flowers. Blueberries, swollen with flavor, found their way from shrub to hand to mouth. Each element could be investigated on its own but now each took on significance in terms of the bear and its habitat requirements.
Bears were the topic of conversation throughout our deck lunch barbecue and all during our transit of Chatham Strait. Admiralty Island promised more in terms of brown bear density so we sailed into the depths of Hood Bay on its western coast scanning the shorelines diligently. A sow and two cubs foraged in the intertidal. Nearby another adult strode toward another salmon stream. And so it became the day of the bear. We turned and headed west to transit Peril Strait. As we head for bed the swirling currents of Sergius Narrows glow outside our porthole windows lit by a huge orange moon.
