Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center

Encountering BIG Brown Bears and other Alaskan Wildlife…

/ Curt Mekemson / 34 Comments
I met my first Brown Bear in Katmai National Park, which is at the beginning of the Aleutian Peninsula. He was coming along a trail I was walking down. He and I had a discussion and then I slowly backed away. Never run from a bear.

I met my first Brown Bear in Katmai National Park, which is at the beginning of the Aleutian Peninsula. He was coming down a trail I was walking up. He and I had a discussion and then I slowly backed away. Never run from a bear unless you are hiking with someone slower than you are. (grin)

Peggy and I are off in Alaska as you read this blog. Since I won’t have time for blogging or reading blogs, I decided to repost a few blogs from the trip we made to Alaska three years ago. If you have been following me for a while, you will have read these blogs previously. I will try to respond to comments. –Curt

Back in the 1980s, I spent three years living in Alaska and dedicated as much time as I could to wandering in the woods. Along the way I met most of the wildlife Alaska is famous for. A grizzly bear stalked me on the Kenai Peninsula. I went to sleep listening to wolves howl on a winter cross-country ski trip in Denali National Park. Even more entertaining, a pair of Dahl Sheep had a head-butting contest in my campsite in Chugach State Park.

You don’t have to disappear into the vast wilderness of Alaska to encounter animals with big teeth, claws and antlers, however. Our friends Edith Barrowclough and David  McElroy reported that both a black bear and a moose wandered through their yard in Anchorage over the weekend. They have also seen a wolf and a lynx in the area.

Our friends David and Edie. Edie went to high school with Peggy in Port Clinton Ohio. She now works as a CPA in Anchorage. Her husband, David, is a bush pilot working on the North Slope and a published poet.

Our friends David and Edie. Edie went to high school with Peggy in Port Clinton, Ohio. She now works as a CPA in Anchorage. Her husband, David, is a pilot working on the North Slope and a published poet. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Peggy and I stayed with them for four days. Every time Chula the Dog barked Peggy darted outside in hopes of spotting something large and furry. All she saw was the neighbor’s dog but we did end up seeing our share of wild animals. David and Edie insisted on taking us to the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center at the southern end of Turnagain Sound. The Center serves as a wildlife sanctuary and is designed to duplicate the animals’ natural surroundings. They have done a good job. The photos in this blog were taken there.

Our trip down Turnagain Arm to the sanctuary was a trip down memory lane for me. It was one of my favorite drives when I lived in Alaska.

Turnagain Arm and the Alaska Railway.

A shot of the railroad tracks running along Turnagain Sound. The V in the mountains on the right is where the town of Hope is located. Hope was the starting point for 100 mile backpack trips I led across the Kenai Peninsula.

Salmon fishing on the Bird River in Alaska.

We stopped off at Bird River on our way down Turnagain Arm. The dots on the river are people fishing for salmon. Three days later we would be fishing for salmon on Kodiak Island.

Black bear with cave in Alaska

Black bears are smaller than their cousins. I once woke up with one standing on my chest in Yosemite. I screamed loudly. You may have heard me. This guy was about to join his companion in the cave.

Black bear entering cave in Alaska.

Here he goes.

Alaskan Brown Bear

Our first view of the Brown Bears was of one playing in the water throwing a moose bone into the air. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Alaska Brown Bear playing with moose bone.

Here he catches the bone with one paw while pointing out his skill with the other. He didn’t have to persuade us.

Alaska Brown Bear growling.

My, what big teeth you have. And no, we have no intention of taking away your bone. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

One wet Alaskan Brown Bear, up close.

One wet Alaskan Brown Bear, up close.

Alaska Brown Bear displaying his claws.

Check out the claws on this guy.

Head shot of Alaska Brown Bear.

My grandson Connor insisted I include this head shot I took of one of the Brown Bears. The bear was sitting up.

I though I would conclude with this photo because it emphasizes just how big Alaskan Brown Bears become on their diet of salmon.

I thought I would conclude with this photo because it emphasizes just how big Alaskan Brown Bears become on their diet of salmon. A large male can weigh up to 1200 pounds.

 

And Then the Bear Had Me by the Head… Scary Bear Stories Part II

/ Curt Mekemson / 19 Comments
I took this photo of an Alaska Black Bear last week at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center. When I was leading backpack trips in Alaska in the 80s, a black bear bit through a sleeping bag into a forrest service ranger's leg.

I took this photo of an Alaska Black Bear two weeks ago at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center.

At the end of my last blog, I had backpacked 18 miles into Yosemite Valley to resupply the food bears had taken from me.

My intention was to stay in the Valley that night but it was a zoo, absolutely crawling with tourists. So one very tired Curt shouldered his pack and hiked five miles back over the 3000-foot cliffs into Little Yosemite Valley. I nodded off that night listening to backpackers yelling as bears methodically worked their campsites, wondering when my turn would come. It came all too soon.

I woke up to a bear emptying my backpack about five feet away from where I was sleeping. This brings me to another piece of Yosemite bear lore: always leave the pockets of your pack open. If you don’t, the bear will open them for you. It tends to be rather hard on backpacks.

Fortunately, my food was safely hanging from a cable and I had left my pack wide open. I watched with clinical interest as the bear shoved his head into the pack, pulled out an item, dropped it on the ground and then stuck his head back in the pack. By then I had enough and suggested rather loudly that the bear go elsewhere. After one more foray, he did. The only damage I suffered was bear slobber, all over everything. My old Basset Hound, Socrates, the world champion of slobberers, would have been jealous.

The next night I was leaving my camp for an evening walk when I met a bear coming to visit. I bent over and picked up a rock and he took off like a dog. And thus my summer went. By the time I had led two back-to-back hundred-mile trips into Yosemite, I had my fill of bears and they had had their fill of Trekker food. Fortunately, no more of it was mine. I considered myself an expert food hanger and bear chaser.

It was almost my demise.

At the end of the second Trek, my friend Jean, her sister Mary and her husband Tim joined me at Tuolumne Meadows to hike the John Muir Trail. We spent the night at the Tuolumne campground. I had eaten backpacking meals for two weeks so it was time for grilled steaks, a little bourbon and several cans of beer before hitting the trail again.

As the night progressed, I was feeling no pain and had lots of liquid bravery. So it wasn’t surprising when a bear came to visit our neighbors from Iowa, I was prepared to do battle. They had left their cooler out on the picnic table as an open invitation and the bear was leisurely opening it. The Iowans were hiding out in their camper, making nary a peep.

“HEY BEAR,” I yelled as I strode across the road, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

Well, Mr. Bear had found himself a cache of fresh food and wasn’t about to leave. He turned around, stood up on his hind legs, raised his front legs over his head and said “GRRRROWL!” He was one big fellow. Stone cold sobriety was instantaneous.

“OK bear, it’s all yours,” I mumbled as I scurried back across the road to my own camp and safety. “Eat all of the Iowan food you want. Heck, eat the Iowans.”

By this time though, 20 flashlights were shining down on the bear. Campers are packed into Tuolumne Meadows like tenement housing in a barrio and all of the neighbors were wondering if they were next. Thus disturbed, Mr. Bear went grumbling off over the hill, more than a little pissed to have his fine feast disturbed. You could almost make out in his growling, “I’ll be back.”

Of course the Iowans left their cooler out on the table. No way were they budging from their camper. I pictured them driving nonstop back to Des Moines the next day.

Finally things settled down. After another bourbon or two, we crawled into our sleeping bags. Tim and Mary disappeared in the security of their truck and Jean and I crashed on the ground.

Not surprising, there came a time when Jean had to visit the restroom. Beer will do that. Equally unsurprising the bourbon helped me sleep right through her getting up. But I did hear her come back. Except it wasn’t Jean I heard through my alcohol-induced grogginess; it was the bear coming back for revenge.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” I screamed with all of the passion I had used when I had awakened with the bear standing on me. Jean not knowing what to do grabbed me by the head and said, “Curt, it’s all right, it’s only me!” This was undoubtedly the right thing for her to do, except now the bear had me by the head. As you might imagine, my yells increased in volume geometrically.

Picture 20 flashlights shining down on this happy little domestic scene. If Mr. Bear had any thoughts of revisiting our area that night, he gave us wide berth afterwards.

NEXT BLOG: Back to Kodiak and our float plane trip over the island.