In your mind, it’s easier to think about how to respond to being in the presence of a grizzly. When he shows up and is vocalizing anger, it really gets a hold of your nerves.
In the summer of 2021, a good friend and I took a handful of boys on a fishing trip near Delta, Alaska to experience an overnight catch and cook. We had prepared ourselves with the gear that we needed for the possible weather and checked out the area a few weeks before. It was conducive to overnight camping with multiple boys who don’t experience the outdoors often and that don’t fish much. We picked out a good place to camp and found that fishing for lake trout and arctic char was excellent.
We picked up the boys and made the two-and-a-half-hour drive from Fairbanks to this lake and hiked in. There was fresh moose sign on the trail but no bear tracks. I was on high alert as we walked in, taking up the back of the group, while my friend Fred led at the front.
We made it to the lake and slid our kayaks into the water. Half of the group hauled gear along the outside of the lake, and the other half paddled to our campsite. I led the group that walked.
After getting to our intended site, we set up our camp and collected firewood to burn at the edge of the lake. Then the fishing started. We got off to a slow start, but we caught three good-sized trout and cooked them over the fire for dinner. As the night grew late, we sat around the fire, shared stories and experiences from our lives, and reminded each other of the life of Jesus.
Most of the boys went to sleep while Fred, one of the boys, and I pushed the kayaks out to see if the lake trout were biting better in the lower light. We fished well into the night, enjoying the light that Alaska’s summer offers. Fred’s German Shepherd was staying with the other boys on shore, so we didn’t see an issue with paddling out as long as we were within hearing distance.
I hooked into a good-sized lake trout. He continually rolled and pulled line as he dove repeatedly to the bottom. After landing him, I struggled for a number of minutes to unhook. He had swallowed the bait. My friend paddled away, trolling with his spinner out behind him.
As he paddled away, I thought I heard a deep, gruff, growling noise. I figured it was the two kayaks rubbing together as Fred and the boy were close to each other. I continued to work at removing the hook but heard the sound again, this time much clearer.
I motioned and called out, “Fred, did you hear that? I think there’s a bear over here.”
He smirked a bit and kept paddling away. I heard it again, but it was faint. I wanted to be sure that I was hearing what I thought I was hearing. I don’t like to purposefully embarrass myself! I thought I kept hearing it, but still, it was so muffled I couldn’t tell. Finally, the hook was loose, and I placed the trout back into the water, holding its tail to see if it had enough life to rejuvenate. As I was doing this, I finally heard very clearly a deep growl. I called again. Fred and the boy turned back.
They glided in silently on the glassy lake water next to me and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Just listen,” I said.
Fifteen seconds later, a roar came from the brush in front of us that made my hair stand up.
Fred’s eyes got big like silver dollars. “That’s a big bear!”
We were still in the water about fifty yards from the beach. The other boys were sleeping at our camp on the opposite side of the lake. The grizzly’s vocalizations became louder and more frequent as we floated waiting for him to show himself. Grizzly season wasn’t in. I had been entrusted with these boys by their parents, and I needed to keep them safe. We had bear spray, and I was carrying my .454 Casull for grizzly defense.
We decided to stay between the bear and camp, no matter what. For the time being that meant staying in our kayaks in the water, cutting off the most direct route. The wind was in our favor, so my hope was that the bear would stay on his side. He continued to growl and roar, for what reason we couldn’t tell. Just the sound of him made me feel very small.
We listened as he crashed through the brush and splashed in a nearby pond that we couldn’t see because of the brush. Suddenly a cow and calf moose ran out along the lake, skirting the edge. They worked along with the wind and disappeared into the bushes on the other side of the lake. The bear was still in the same location, splashing and roaring. A few hours went by, and his roars started becoming faint as he traveled away from camp into the wind.
Finally, as the sun continued to rise, we could no longer hear his roars. He had continued on his way. I was greatly relieved. We paddled to camp where the boys were waking up and cooked breakfast. When the sun was bright, I got some rest for a few hours with my ball cap pulled over my eyes. The smallest noise had me wide-awake and looking around.
The fishing was good that day! We also saw that the cow and calf had made it through the night when they swam across the lake mid-morning.
I learned a lot from that experience though. I had seen grizzlies before, and honestly, I had become more comfortable with them than I should have. When we are in the woods, we are on their turf.
I respect bears now more than ever. Nothing serious happened this time, but it opened my eyes to the attitude that some grizzlies can carry with them. They are amazing, powerful creatures.
Since this experience, I have tried to be more prepared for an encounter. There is only so much that preparation can do, but I don’t want to be complacent. I highly recommend at least having bear spray, but having a pistol with stopping power like the .454 Casull for self-defense brings peace of mind.
Practice is important. You will have only seconds if a grizzly bear charges; you must be ready. Hopefully, this account has encouraged you to think again about the necessity of preparation for being in the presence of a grizzly, even when fishing in Northern America.
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