Eventually, I had numerous bear encounters in other parts of Alaska when I spent summers counting fish for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, but they weren't a Kodiak Bear which I was convinced would be a majestic creature the size of a Hummer (H2 at least), fur continuously ruffling in a light sea breeze. Now I know they are more like vermin.2008 was the Year of the Bear in Kodiak. More than 80 bears were taken on the island in hunts, 25+ on the road system alone (which is impressive on only 70 miles of road).
It seemed like a person couldn't walk more than 10 feet without tripping over one. When the bears weren't trying to gnaw their way into someone's home (this really happened, I just can't seem to find the link through the local paper), they were busy developing dumpster diving skills to pass the time until the salmon and berries arrived. At one point a friend counted 12 of the lumbering beasts on the two rivers within a mile of my mother's house. 
It became a daily occurrence and cars would line the main road to gawk and take pictures when one of the bears appeared. It was as though they had unilaterally decided to stop skulking behind chicken coops and go public in some sort of weird Bear Pride movement.I was excited at first, I admit. It's hard not to get excited when your childhood grainy black and white image becomes tangible and viscerally real.
So real, in fact, that on a couple of occasions I thought I might have the opportunity to examine my own viscera. One morning I was blithely biking along on my roadbike enjoying the 6 a.m. sun on my shoulders when I belatedly noticed a large boulder start to move out of the corner of my right eye on the side of the road. Much slower than the gears on my bike, my mind recalled that there are no boulders in the river marsh flat and boulders don't typically move on their own and wait a minute THAT'S NO BOULDER! I accelerated from cruiser speed to Tour de France sprint finish speed in half a pedal stroke before my brain had even processed the word "bear." I'm pretty sure I left some rubber on the pavement. It took half a day before I lost the coppery taste in my mouth from all the blood vessels I had spontaneously burst from my overdrive effort.Another time I had decided to try out a different trail for a run. My typical route by the house had become a dicey proposition with an ever increasing number of tracks indicating the bears were interested in asserting their ownership and might be setting up a toll booth. With all the thick brush and high grass, my morning runs had become about as relaxing as that scene in Jurassic Park where people keep getting picked off by velociraptors in the field.
Not what a runner wants to see hanging out by the trail:
I wasn't about to let some bears stop me from getting a run in, however, even though my options seemed rather limited -- I have yet to see running shorts featuring gun holsters or pockets to accomodate pepper spray. There was some logic to the idea of testing an area outside my normal pattern, one away from the bears, for instance. They all seemed to be congregating around the rivers at sea level for the salmon so a nice mountain trail seem reasonably safe. Silly me.The day I chose to run up the mountain was a lovely Autumn day. Sunlight dappled the ground through the trees and the light perfume of wild roses suffused the air I sucked into my lungs in heaving gasps. With quivering quads I took a moment to survey the phenomenal view at the summit, then headed back down the rocky trail. I was in the grip of a full-fledged runner's high when I passed back into the thickets of alder from higher alpine meadows, in love with everything in the world and completely relaxed. With no warning, the trees exploded with sound about 20 feet from me and I saw a large, brown mass go hurtling away from me through the brush. I took three running steps while my mind considered the fact that I had spooked a bear by the side of the trail which made me wonder if I smelled really bad or just looked really scary. I was just about to try breathing into my hand to see if my breath stank when my brain finally went on full alert and injected enough adrenaline in my system to resuscitate an elephant heart. I can't say for sure because I don't remember much from that point until I got to the car, but I might have reached terminal velocity. Who says runner's lose speed as they age? I think it is only a matter of proper incentive. Life or death is pretty effective, I'd say.
Although my skin and bones are still intact after my encounters, it is probably only a matter of time before someone gets hurt. Familiarity breeds contempt, after all, and it happens on both sides of the equation. When the bears get too comfortable around human habitat they can be removed or shot, like the bears that were frequenting areas near school bus stop sites (But Mooooommmm, I don't want to go to school because there are bears at the bus stop...). When humans get too comfortable around the bears, however, someone is going to become human confetti.
My, what big claws you have:
I was flabbergasted to watch one person in full camouflage gear try to sneak up on a bear chewing on salmon.
The Timothy Treadwell wannabe was literally crawling toward the bear commando style, popping his head up occasionally to determine his progress. Who tries to sneak up on a bear? Yes, things do get rather large in Alaska, but that 2,000 pound animal is not, I repeat NOT, an overgrown ground squirrel. I almost hoped the bear would get surly and smack the dimwit down so that I could nominate him for the Darwin Awards. Another time I saw a bear approach a woman fishing on a river. She simply crossed the river in her boots and continued fishing while the bear stopped directly opposite her on the far bank and watched. I couldn't believe it. I've seen how fast a bear can move and that bear could have been across that river in three steps and had her head in its mouth before she had a chance to drop her fishing pole. This isn't a zoo, for crying out loud. Please, have a little healthy respect toward keystone predators, people. Some healthy respect and we can all co-exist.
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