Bears and bear stories seem to be common place events in rural Alaska.  It appears that everyone has some kind of story to share.  I saw a bear outside my sister’s dining area at her river camp on the first day I arrived.  Before I could take a picture, someone chased the adolescent away.  (Something that I never want to attempt.)  Needless to say, I decided against taking daily walks like I normally do back home.  My momma didn’t raise no fool.

I have three bear tales to share.  The first story took place when my sister and her family first moved to King Salmon in 2006.  Her three children were invited to a birthday party.  One of the guests said, “I hope the party won’t be like the one last year.”

My sister’s oldest son asked what the person meant.  It appears that the party was raided by two bears.  One bear actually came into the house.  The mother of the birthday child shot it dead in the hallway.  Then, she stomped over the dead carcass to chase after the other bear that was running away.  After that, the conversation naturally turned to skinning bears.  Isn’t that what everyone would discuss?  My nephew was fascinated and asked, “Where did you learned to skin a bear?”

Instead of the expected answer, one of the kids demanded, “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“And you’ve never skinned a bear?  You’re twelve years old and you’ve never skinned a bear?”  It was simply inconceivable to all the kids presents.  Well, to all the kids who were raised in rural Alaska, that is.

They mocked my nephew throughout the rest of the party.  That has probably never happened to him at any other time in his life.  When his parents came to pick up the kids, my nephew said, “These people are weird.  Don’t ever leave me alone again.” 

Tale two involves my sister and her bear experience.  Now, I’ve learned that the only difference between brown bears and grizzly bears is geography.  Brown bears live near rivers and eat salmon.  Grizzly bears live farther from the rivers and are hungrier.  For any person outside of Alaska, my sister faced a grizzly.  But, in King Salmon, she had a run-in with a brown bear.

The bear was not a happy camper . . . or grizzly . . . or brown bear.  He lingered around their camp most of one season.  He wasn’t happy because one of his legs was injured.  If he ran, it would have to be on three legs.  If agitated, this critter preferred to swat at things and sit.  I would, too, under the circumstances. 

On one occasion, my sister was alone at the camp.  She wasn’t worried about anything because she had two golden Labrador retrievers that watched over her.  In the past, they team-tagged bears in the camp.  One dog nipped at the bear’s left side and then the other nipped at the right as they chased the invader from camp.  On this particular occasion, as my sister rounded the corner of one cabin, the two dogs barked as soon as they spotted that bear in the camp.

You may ask, “What do you do when you come face-to-face with a grumpy bear?”  Even though every fiber of your body screams, “RUN!”  That is the last thing you should do.  You’re supposed to reach for bear spray or a gun.  My sister had both of those, but not on her.  They were inside the cabin next to her.  She backed into the cabin to arm herself.  She called her husband long enough to say, “If I disappear, it’s because I have been eaten by a bear.”  Most likely, he’d never had a call like that before.

You might feel inclined to hide in the cabin under the circumstances.  I would.  But, an angry bear can smash apart one of those cabins.  It would be best to face the bear.  Those are words I never want to hear.

What were her options?  The best one was to shoot the bear with bear spray.  Except it really wasn’t an option. The wind was blowing in her direction.  If she used the spray, it would have blinded her instead of the bear.  That was out of the question.  “The bear spray burns for what feels like forever,” my sister said. “You’d rather just have the bear eat you.”

Shooting the bear was an option, but not the best.  A wounded bear can still do a lot of damage.  So, she followed her husband’s suggestion and shot over the bear’s head.  And, what happened?  Her two trusty golden Labradors fled the scene.  The bear did not.

She backed into the cabin one more time to gather her thoughts.  Then, she decided she needed to stare down the grizzly. Okay, a brown bear, but in my mind it is still a grizzly.  Suddenly, her two golden labra-chickens were back at her side.  She stared at the bear.  He stared back at her.  She didn’t move.  He didn’t either.  Slowly, she backed away from the situation.  The labra-chickens still at her side.  She never turned her back on the bear.  Eventually, she moved far enough to be safe and the bear left camp. 

Fortunately, my personal bear experience was not at all scary.  It was closer to un-bear-ably wonderful.  My sister took me to Katmai National Park.  If you have ever seen photos of bears fishing for salmon in Alaska, it is at Brooks Falls in Katmai National Park.  And, that park is a delightful hour-long boat trip across Naknek Lake from my sister’s fishing camp.  There are no roads to the park.  It’s probably why Katmai is the least visited of all U.S. National Parks.  If you don’t take a boat to the park, you fly in on a float plane.

In preparation for the park visit, my sister packed bear spray.  I learned that when approached by a bear, survival is about 99% if you spray the bear in the face.  The critter is temporarily blinded and you are free to walk away (even though I know everyone would run).  If you try to shoot a bear, your chances of survival drop to 40 or 50%.  A wounded bear is still able to chase, slash and devour.  Now, I really didn’t expect that I would be in a situation where I might need bear spray.  But, I’d never been to Katmai before.  Bears are free to roam everywhere.  The observation platforms, all three of them, have gates to prevent bears from entering.  However, to get to those platforms, you must walk through bear territory.  We saw no bears while we strolled the park, but I was ever so thankful that my sister came prepared.

During non-Covid seasons, there is a long line to get to the platform that overlooks the bears at the falls.  Times are assigned so you can only stay for half an hour.  During the pandemic, only 16 people are allowed at the platform at a time.   Yep, social distancing takes place even in the Alaskan wilderness.  There was a bit of a human traffic jam at the platform around noon.  However, that was the only time.  My sister and I had long periods of time when we were the only two viewing the bears and salmon. 

I really got to see salmon leaping in the air, trying to go upstream over the falls.  I’m still not sure how that is possible.  A lot of them fail.  The seven bears I saw at the falls were well-fed.  Depending on the bear, there were several ways to get a salmon.  Some bears just sat in the water and waited for the fish to come their way.  The bigger the bear, the better the spot to sit.  Other bears snorkeled.  They floated in the water, with just their heads visible, as they chased after their meal.  My personal favorite method was diving.  These hunters disappeared under the water in search of salmon while their back feet waved in the air.  Whichever way they decided to hunt, every bear at Katmai National Park looked well-fed and happy.

On the return boat trip home, a cable broke.  I just put my head down and shut my eyes.  I didn’t care how long it took to get home.  But, when I finally looked up, we were back at Katmai National Park.  A float plane was sent for our return.   Yep, I was going to fly back to camp!

A float plane lands on water.  I’d never flown in one before.  I didn’t expect it to happen on this trip.  So, in spite of the delays and a breakdown, this was a treat for me!  The view was wonderful.  I’d hoped to maybe see a bear from above.  That didn’t happen, but there were so many lakes and the unspoiled wilderness stretched on as far as the eye could see.

The day was so wonderful it was bearly believable.

Back in the good old days, just earlier this year, you might have stood in front of a microphone to say, “Testing. Testing.”  Of course, you might be so terrified of standing in front of a crowd and speaking that you have never faced an audience and uttered those words.  It doesn’t bother me.  But, I still don’t say those two words.  I’d rather just tap the microphone.

Back in the really old days, saying “Testing. Testing.” meant that students were taking the Iowa Test of Basic Skills.  I don’t know if kids still have to endure those tests.  I hated them and I hated Iowa because of them.  “Carefully fill in the oval.  If you must erase, do it completely because it can’t look like you’ve answered twice.”  Did you ever miss a row and answer a whole bunch of ovals in the wrong spot?  I did.  I still hate those tests.  My feelings about Iowa are yet to be determined.

But today, “Testing. Testing.” has a whole new meaning.  The whole world has been turned upside-down.  Why not this as well?  So, on the news, no matter where you turn for fake news or your take on the news, we hear about Covid testing.  Now, I have been fairly well isolated in Ohio.  I didn’t think I had that nasty little virus in my life.  But, you never know.  And, these days, you never know what to believe either.

My sister has been impacted by the virus more than me.  For part of the year, she lives in Belize.  They had to get out of that little Caribbean paradise before the national border closed.  The restrictions in Belize made those in Michigan look like a picnic.  Since Michigan is her home for part of the year, she was able to personally compare draconian practices.  She prefers Michigan.  Since I’m from Buckeye Nation, I’m not completely convinced. 

She also lives in Alaska for six months of the year.  Her home is on the mainland close to where the Aleutian Islands jut into the Bering Strait.  It’s home to many Native Americans, as is the rest of the state.  And, as it turns out, that populations didn’t hold up well to the Spanish Flu one hundred years ago.  So, they don’t mess around with this nasty little virus.  Therefore, if you go to Alaska, you have to get tested for Covid. 

My sister has been tested multiple times.  The first time, she was instructed to self-inflict, I mean . . . self-test.  The torturer said to stick this special swab up her nose until it hurt and made her eyes cry.  She didn’t tell me how far she actually had to put that thing up her nose.  I don’t know how far the possibilities are, but I imagined long swabs that could reach for three inches or more.  It truly sounds worse than the Iowa Test of Basic Skills!  But, safe in Ohio, away from Belize and Alaska, I had yet to experience, “Testing. Testing.” in this new way.

Until I did.

I finally scheduled a Covid test at a local pharmacy.  There was no remote chance of human contact.  It was done from a drive-in window and I still had to have a mask on when the sliding door opened. 

.........Step 1....Put on rubber gloves.
.........Step 2....Grab one swab from the packet of supplies.
.........Step 3....Prepare yourself because this is the hard one.  Insert that little sucker one inch up your left nostril ........................and then turn for fifteen seconds.  One inch?  I mentally had prepared for three!  One inch was a   ........................piece of cake.  Okay, twisting for 15 seconds was not the greatest.  But, still!  One inch!
.........Step 4....Prepare yourself because this is the gross part.  Yep, you thought sticking a swab up your nose ........................was hard?  You have to stick the same swab up your right nostril for an inch and another swirl.  I ........................was so shocked and disgusted that I had to ask for a repeat of the instructions.  But, you read that  ........................right.  Re-insert and re-swirl.  Revolting.
.........Step 5....Put the swab in a vial, drop it off in a pharmacy box, and wipe that box down so it is clean for the ........................next victim.
.........Step 6....Wait for your results and, hopefully, good news.  My results came the next day when I was told to ........................expect 5 to 7.  Yeah!  Negative!
.........Step 7....Reward yourself with a trip to Alaska.
 
That’s right, I went through all of this to go to the Land of the Midnight Sun, the Great Land, the Last Frontier and the land that checks all travelers from other states at the airport in Anchorage to see about Covid 19.  If you have had a test in the past 72 hours, you don’t need retesting, but you have to remain in quarantine until you get the results.  Even without the evidence in hand (results hadn’t arrived in my email box yet), I was admitted into the state after giving all the information I usually give to other nations upon arrival.  And then, after 7 to 14 days, I have to do this all over again just to make sure I didn’t pick up any nasty viruses along the way to this great, expansive and so beautiful wilderness.  Now you know the full meaning of, “Testing. Testing.”