​I told you, I attended Bear School before walking the park.  I knew that I was supposed to keep at least a fifty-yard distance from all bears.  Too late to keep that rule.  I was less than that distance from this guy, without bear spray, and he was moving closer and closer.  You may not believe me, but I knew what to do under the circumstances. Get off the path.  Let me repeat, GET OFF THE PATH!  I climbed over fallen trees and vines to get a good distance away.  I wanted that bear to mildly struggle if he wanted to come in my direction.  But, I’d watched those critters for hours.  They were surprisingly graceful and quiet.  If he wanted to meet me up close and personally, in an Alaskan frontier manner, he could have done it.  I would have been toast.  But, thank goodness, an Ohio Buckeye isn’t nearly as delicious as Alaskan salmon.  And, that was what this bear had in mind as he walked towards the waterfall.

Also, in Bear School, I was told it was wise to keep sight of the bear at all times.  Well, I didn’t.  I seriously wanted to, but in order to get a safe distance away from the bear, I had to lose sight of the critter.  Eventually, he ambled down the path past me.  Yep, he stopped and looked at me before he moved along.  I took a photo, but the camera really wasn’t properly set.  I mean, when your life is mildly threatened, maintaining perfect camera technology is not a priority.

So, I had my bear moment in Alaska.  It was more than I needed and less than it could have been.  I’ll live with it.  Amanda had a much better Alaskan moment to share.

She was one of my favorite people to meet this year in Alaska.  Amanda worked as a member of the kitchen staff.  It’s an underpraised position.  She got up each morning at 4:35 to get ready for breakfast at 7:00 for the fishermen.  I don’t believe in getting up that early unless I have to go to the bathroom.

And, that brings me back to Amanda.

The kitchen crew and fishing guides live in an assortment of rustic cabins and sturdy tents on the campgrounds.  I, personally, would not enjoy a sturdy tent for several months and I'm not so sure about a rustic cabin.  Amanda lived in a cabin.  It had a heater but no electricity.  There were no sinks, no running water and no toilets.

If you are a cabin-dweller and nature happens to call you at 4:35 in the morning, your options are not the greatest. You could mosey on down to the bath house where you could find everything you need to do what you want to do. The problem is, you could find more than you need.  In those wee hours, when the area is covered with a morning fog, bears tend to roam the fishing camp.  If you are on your way to the bathroom, you don’t want a bear to show up.  That would cause anyone to go wee, wee, wee all the way home in their pants. 

Amanda is nobody’s dummy.  Her mama didn’t raise no fool.  And, she figured out a way to solve her problem that didn’t involve a long walk in the moonlight, under a starry sky, with a giant beast ready to slash her throat.  No, she went around to the backside of her cabin.  And if you need additional details, or if you want me to draw you a picture, it just isn’t going to happen.  

She went behind her cabin.

​Amanda squatted in the darkness “practicing her multiplication facts” or “pondering the wonders of the universe” when she heard a noise.  She thought it was another one of her fellow campers.  Since she didn’t want to flash them while she “recited the alphabet backwards”, she flashed the person with her flashlight. 
 
And, she saw the whites of their eyes!

Well, maybe she didn’t.  Actually, she saw a bear, face-to-face, while the bear saw a bare bottom.  Amanda did what everyone would do under those circumstances.  She screamed, “Save me!  Help!  I’m Terrified!”

Perhaps it was the light in his eyes.  Perhaps it was the shrill screaming of a terrified camper.  Fortunately, the bear was as frightened as Amanda and he dashed off into the darkness.  Amanda dashed, too, but it isn’t easy to run your fastest when you are trying to gather all your clothing about you.  So, just like in a horror movie when a person falls at the worst possible moment, Amanda tripped and fell flat on her face as she reached the front of her cabin.  The worst possible moment!  Very fortunately, no bear was present to witness the fall or slash her throat.

Under normal conditions, Amanda wouldn’t head to the kitchen until the generator was turned so there were lights.  She thought my sister was already in the kitchen that morning.  No, she was wrong.  Nearly dead wrong. The lights were on because the motion detector worked properly.  There were two bears lurking in the camp that morning.  One critter turned on the motion detector while the other strolled down the path for a personal encounter with Amanda.

Safely behind her cabin door, Amanda waited for my sister to finally arrive for breakfast preparations.  Only then would she set foot outside her cabin.  When she finally came to work, understandably a little late, she had a barely believable tale of an encounter with a bear who barely saw a bare bottom.  But (butt?), she survived and had the best bear “tail” of the season.

So far.

I’m not completely sure how far my sister’s home is from her fishing camp on the Naknek River.  It’s somewhere in the vicinity of five miles.  One person on the kitchen staff said that she has walked it in the past in about an hour and a half. I thought it might take me two hours.

I was up for it.

Actually, I was more interested in photographing some orange/red mushrooms that I’d seen on the drive.  So, I planned to mosey my way to the river camp with frequent stops to photograph mushrooms along my way.

I was prepared. 

When I go outside for long periods of time in the King Salmon area, I wear head netting over my hat.  I don’t see anyone else doing that in Alaska.  Nobody.  Not one.  It makes me special.  But, it’s a sanity measure for me.  I am an insect magnet.  Dozens - or possibly hundreds - of insects swarm my head.  Without the netting, I would go crazy.  I don’t know how other people manage time in Alaska without the netting.  But, I really am the only person I’ve seen wearing that netting on this trip.

The road out of King Salmon to the river camp is around twenty miles.  As far as I can tell, the off-shoot road where my sister lives is the only road with a stop sign at the intersection.  I’m not sure why it is there.  But, it makes it very easy to identify. 

The walk is ten minutes from the intersection to the house.

Easy.

Then, go right about four or five miles or more.  But, almost at that intersection were some of the mushrooms that I wanted to photograph.  They are beautiful orangish-red mushrooms with what is described as white warts.  Just absolutely gorgeous, and poisonous!  I had to take photos.

Now, the main road is fairly smooth and solid.  It’s easy to walk on.  The tundra, on the other hand, is neither smooth nor solid.  It’s like walking on a bed where every step sinks into the ground.  And, those mushrooms grew on that kind of soil among shrubs and trees.  It wasn’t as easy to get to the ‘shrooms as you might expect.

The things a photographer has to do to get the right shot!

My legs were not meant to walk on tundra.  They kind of bow on the soft surface and it strains the outer calf muscles.  I only roamed the tundra for a few minutes to take my photos, but I felt a serious strain in my legs.  When I got back to the road, I should have rested those weary muscles.  It hurt to walk.  This was barely after a ten-minute walk out of a suspected two-hour hike on my part. 

I probably should have turned around.

But, I would have missed my adventure if I had been so wise.

The walk wasn’t going to be a joyous nature romp unless I completely stayed on the road and away from the mushrooms on the tundra.  I saw more of those fungi.  They didn’t tempt me in the slightest.  I continued walking.  Nope, no other mushrooms lured me off the road.

My sister’s camp is almost at the end of the road from King Salmon.  There are very few vehicles on the roads.  There are absolutely no other pedestrians.  Never.  It doesn’t happen.  Not a one.  So, as I walked, I kind of had it in the back of my mind that I might have someone offer me a ride.  After all, it happened both of the other times I tried this trek.  And, I’m not such an exercise freak that I would turn down a ride.   That would never happen.

I heard a vehicle approaching.  It was a pick-up truck with a very nasty dog in the back.  It could have been a Pitbull.  I’m not really sure.  But, I am sure it was viciously barking.  I was relieved that the pick-up didn’t stop.  I didn’t want that dog to jump out of the vehicle and taste an Ohio Buckeye.
​

A few minutes later, I heard another vehicle approaching.  This time it was a van.  A man looked out the window and asked, “Are you okay?”  I said, “Yes, but if you’re offering a ride, I’ll take it.”

He offered.

I climbed into the back seat with his camera.  The camera took up more room than I did.  The lens was about two and a half feet long.  I am not sure if I’ve ever seen one so long.  Certainly not so close up!  I said, “Wow, you really have some toy!”

The guy replied, “That is no toy.  It’s my livelihood.”

Of course, that need more information.  And, he had it.  He was a professional photographer, videographer and all-around world traveler.  He lived in Alaska five months of the year and the rest of the time was based in Florida.  He’s worked for National Geographic (among other organizations) and his cameras have taken him around the world. 

I had such camera envy.

When there was a pause, I shared my one National Geographic claim to fame.  And, having your photograph in the 100th Anniversary Issue of National Geographic is a pretty awesome claim.  This guy won an Emmy for his cinematography work in nature, but he was still impressed with my claim. 

My ride with this man and his wife went all too quickly.  My last question was, “Have you had any travel disasters along the way?”  Of course.  He very quickly mentioned a plane crash, a crocodile bite and something to do with a bear.  I asked for details on one and he chose the plane crash.  It was in Alaska with one of the small planes that land on water.  Somehow, his flipped over.  It might have killed the plane, but he lived to share a good story. 

This photographer had to be familiar with the area.  I told him my destination.  He asked if it was okay to drop me off at the connecting intersection.  Obviously, he knew where I was headed and must have met my sister as some point in time.  I hopped out of the van and said, “I wish I had more time to share stories with you.”

And then, he was gone.  I never got his name.

When I arrived at my sister’s fishing camp, I learned that everyone knew his name.  Mark Emery.  Right away, my sister reached for the phone book.  One of his photos was on the cover.  And, I clearly saw, that if you have the right lens, you really can get amazing photographs of bears.

With a name, I Googled the guy.  Yep, world-famous.  Amazing photographs.  Worked all over the planet.  I even saw a photo of him with his Emmy award.  So, in a far remote corner of Alaska, I rubbed elbows with a famous celebrity.  Well, actually, my left elbow almost bumped into his humongous zoom lens.  And, I didn’t even know it until it was over.  It was an Alaskan Cheers moment “where everybody knows his name” . . . except me.

​Needless to say, I will continue looking for mushrooms for as long as I am in Alaska.  ​