Look Out For Bears

  Beautiful Sitka Alaska is full of amazing things to do and see. The wild mountains stretch from the ocean to tickle the clouds above. Walking trails have been carved out of the mountain sides to provide some form of entertainment for the rock bound citizens.
  It seems on a non pouring rain day that one can meet half the town on our main trail named the "cross trail" . This trail winds across the face of the mountain and spans our entire town.
  You can hike from the base of Harbor Mountain all the way to the salmon infested stream named Indian River.
  I cannot help but compare living in Sitka to living in some city in the lower 48 states.
  Each morning the early crowd of work-out people rise and greet the coming day. The women in the lower 48 states shower and put on a good layer of hair spray.
  The women of Sitka also greet the morning with a wake up shower and also grab a can of spray. Herein lies the difference. The women of Sitka reach for a can of Bear Spray.
  Bear spray is simply a can of high powered propellant loaded with red pepper. It is the same spray that the police and military use in crowd control or to stop charging criminals, but in a much heavier volume.
  Lower 48 women may turn on the T.V. to learn about the trouble places in the city to avoid. I can hear the news anchor blurting out, "Be warned that there is a mugger in the park on the east side of the city."
 The women, and men, of Sitka can turn to a different source for their reports. It is a Facebook page called, "Sitka Bear Report."
  This year was a bad year for the big Brown Bears to roam our little town's streets. Low salmon numbers in the streams coupled with a very thin berry crop on the mountains lead the hungry bears to the logical food source. The town garbage cans.
  A normal year may see one or two bears scamper into town to forage on left over pizza crust, but this year it seemed nightly we would find bears tipping trash cans in search of treasure.
 I open the bear report page and scan for sightings. Here is a bear report read for the morning.
I will leave out the names of the posters for their privacy.

 "My co-worker said someone saw a bear cross Sawmill Creek road." Nov. 7
  "My dog went on high alert on Wolf Drive." Nov 8
  "Bear spotted out Sawmill Creek Road around 2500 block. We literally just saw this Huuuuuge bear cross the main road right in front of my tiny Subaru. My dogs were freaking out inside the car. Oct. 31
  "Bear just tipped over our trash cans and ran off towards Toivo. Area around Shuler Dr. Watch out." Nov 1.
  "Bear early this morning on top of Lance Dr." Nov 1
  "Yesterday at about 8 a.m. there was an encounter with an angry bear on Thimbleberry trail near the lake. Good thing the dog was there as she alerted my husband. The bear made false charges at least twice with jaws popping and growling." Oct. 30
 "Bear behind our house right now. End of Indian River. He is hiding in the brush." Oct 30
  "Bear in the woods behind 1821 Sawmill creek rd. sounded like it was tearing the bark off some poor innocent tree. Fired a shot into the air. I think it headed towards Anna Dr." Oct 29
 " Bear up at Thimble Berry today. Was in brush. Huffed and snapped but didn't charge." Oct. 29
 " Bear just went down a hill behind my mother in law's house on Andrew Hope St. Be Bear aware people. Came out and didn't even see him just heard him. His shadow was Big!!" Oct. 28
  "About a half hour ago there was a bear at the end of Cascade Creek Rd. Was scared away but keep your eyes open people." (this is near the cross trail) Oct. 27
  "Bear out Granite Creek. Just knocked over trash can and ran off when a vehicle came up roan. Be cautious, she has cubs with her!!"  Oct. 20
 " Bear on Indian River Rd right now. Walking towards the bus stop. We were outside and it started walking up towards us."  Oct. 26
  "Bear on the corner of Charles and Verstovia between 6:30 and 7:30 this morning as evidenced by someones trash strewn through my yard. "Oct. 26
 " Bear at Shaffers Trailer court by Sandy Beach. Be careful." Oct 24
 " Just saw a bear on Herb Didrickson St. at the end of the street it was a big one. Was taking my dog outside". Oct. 24
  "Big Bear on Knutson..." Oct. 25
 " Bear on the end of Dodge Circle 12:15 a.m." Oct 26

   The bear report goes on and on. You can check it out on Facebook on Sitka Bear Report. It makes interesting reading for out of town people, but it is like a life line to those of us who roam the streets and woods behind town .
  I have to smile when I get back into civilization and hear the warnings booming over the loudspeakers, "If you see anything suspicious please call the emergency number."
  Sitka Bear Report will do just fine, thank you.

                Not an animal you take lightly

Sitka at its Best

  Sitka Alaska resides in one of North America's rain forests. Everyone who lives in the little ocean front town is well aware of this fact.
  You can tell a Sitkan visiting somewhere like Arizona by the fact that they carry a rain jacket over their arm in a dessert that hasn't had a drop of rain in years. 
  People who live in Sitka learn to look quickly. By that, I mean when you have the rare day when the sky is not falling in droplets, the people learn to enjoy the moment or day to its fullest.
  A real Sitkan ignores the weather. If they plan a picnic and it is pouring rain, they just go ahead and fire up the barbecues and do it in the rain. Real Sitkans are not made of sugar!
  Octobers are known for rain. We warn anyone new to the island to prepare for "Octoburary" as we so fondly call the monsoon month. Our average rainfall in October is just under thirteen inches.
  Mother Nature pulled a fast one on the inhabitants of the island this October. She blessed us with nearly a month of pure sunshine... and some of the most incredible sunsets one could imagine.
  Night after night the beaches would be crowded with camera wielding awestruck people, of which I was one.
  As the sun sank into the North Pacific Ocean, the skies would light up in a blaze of glory with the ocean reflecting it back to the big volcano as if trying to outdo the clouds above.
 Each evening the face book pages would light up with new photos of those so impressed with the island we reside on.
 If one were so inclined, you could stay up till the wee hours of the morning and catch the Northern Light show which was also very impressive for most of the month. I, being one more inclined to dream about the light show outside, simply caught up with the Aurora borealis on face book the next morning.
  Sitka is also known as a coastal town filled with eagles. There are eagles around like sparrows in the lower 48 states. We tend to see them so much that we hardly notice.
  Visitors, on the other hand, stand in awe at the massive birds perched in trees in the center of town. Many times every tree in a section has an eagle perched at the very top. The sun lights up their white heads gracing the trees with a stunning view.
  I have gone so far as to name the eagles by where they perch. There is a bare tree overlooking our McDonald's restaurant so I have named that eagle the "McEagle".
  I was idling the boat into the harbor one afternoon when I spotted a sight even I was impressed by. There must have been a dead fish on the shore as there was a gathering of eagles like never before.
  I grabbed my phone and quickly shot some pictures as I idled past, and eagles were still flying in from all directions. I wished later that I would have waited to see just how many eagles would have finally gathered there. I also wished I would have thought about my panoramic setting on the phone as I was only able to capture a fraction of the amount of eagles gathered.
  I will use the rest of this post to share some of these pictures with you.
  Enjoy

 

Speaking Moose

  The wheels of the small plane touch down on the runway and I see Matt standing near his truck grinning.
 I am not feeling very light hearted at the moment as my first dive ended in a dry suit malfunction. I have been almost shaking with frustration and anger. It is hard to see money laying on the bottom of the ocean and not be able to scoop it into my bank account.
  I take a steaming hot pizza off the plane and hand it to Matt. Supper is served!
  We jump into the truck and head off for moose camp.
  I have hunted moose one other time with not much results. I was able to see one cow moose dash across a road... and that sums up my moose encounters for my life.
  Matt and I hunt hard for nearly a week with no encounters, but that is hunting. The area we are hunting is brush choked, swamp infested, timber blow down tangled mess. Only the moose and beavers are happy here. The beavers are most happy when they secretly watch moose hunters drop out of sight in some boggy muskeg hole that is a direct result of their damming up a little stream.
  I don't think I've sweatted so much just trying to buck through a devils club thicket to find the nice muskeg, only to be sabotaged by the beaver.
  As my hunt days were nearing the end, Matt and I hiked to the end of the earth... or so it seemed, and finally made contact with a bull moose.
  Matt is pretty savvy at sounding like a cow moose begging for a boyfriend and the bull moose was wanting to encourage the relationship.
  The bull moose was coming quickly towards us by the sound of his grunting and we were getting excited about finally seeing one of the giants.
  The grunting bull then hung up. This is not uncommon in moose hunting. When a bull is approaching they will grunt on every other step of their front feet. "olf, olf, olf," it echoes through the heavy timber. When the bull "hangs up" the grunting seems to stop and things grow quiet.
 "Grunt at him!" Matt hissed barely above a quiet whisper. "See if we can keep him coming.
  I gave the bull a big "OLF" of my own and man did that fire him up.
  The bull blew into an instant rage. He would "olf" with a throaty roar tapering off at the end of each grunt. My hair stood up on my neck. I have never heard an animal sound so angry. He was not impressed to think that another male moose may have moved into his territory just when he had heard Matt the female moose!
  The bull was still hung up in the thick timber so I continued to grunt at him and instantly he would grunt-bellow back at me. The woods echoed his pent up fury each time he grunted.
  Matt signaled that he would try to work around on the bull to see if we could get him. I kept speaking bull moose while he made his sneak.
  Mr. bull moose and I carried on long conversation. I was speaking very good moose, and he seemed to agree while sharing his displeasure at me.
  I grunted and no reply. I tried again, same results, for some reason my moose had gone silent.
  Matt appeared all big eyed and explains what happened.
  "I snuck up on the grunting moose and got to within 30 yards. I could hear him breathing fiery threats but could not see the animal. It was a clear muskeg boarding a wall of blown down logs that had the bull hung up. He could not find a way through the maze of downed logs.
  I knew I was so close but still could not see hide nor hair of the beast," Matt continued.
 "I stepped up on a big log to see into the distance when I couldn't believe my eyes. The moose was down in a big hole with just the tips of his big rack showing. Just as I spotted him he made eye contact with me and bolted out of the hole and into the thick timber."
  We had a good chuckle at how the moose was so lucky to have been down in the hole and not where Matt could have easily observed him.
  "Oh well," I told Matt, "at least I learned how to speak Moose!"

                                       Matt calling early morning moose

Difficfult Diving

  Three forty five in the morning and the alarm jolts me awake. My usual summer get up time. Most of the world is asleep, but not the fishermen in Alaska.
  I text Mike to meet me at the truck, and we head to the grocery store next door for coffee and donuts. We enjoy the company of others who gather at the local morning watering hole before they head off to work. We are not in any hurry to leave as it is so dark outside.
  It is drizzling rain as we make our way to the boat, my head lamp lighting the deck in bits and pieces. The coils of dive hose look like large yellow serpents ready to spring out of the shadows onto unsuspecting prey.
  I back the boat and idle out of the harbor more by memory and feel than by sight. It is pitch black and we have no lights. The eerie glow of my red and green running light reflect off a couple of marker poles helping to navigate through some islands and into the main channel.
  We idle through all the no wake zones and are still in darkness. I know better than to try to get the boat on plane for the danger of hitting floating logs.  "Wow this darkness is hanging on a long time today due to the rain and heavy cloud cover," I comment to Mike. We are both glued to the front windows trying to see any hazard in our path.
  It seems to take forever, but at last we have enough breaking daylight for me to throttle up to planning speed. I do not open the big 200 hp Yamahas up as I still need time to dodge floating debris.  Dive time is only an hour away and it is still very dark.
  Mike and I make our way to our selected dive area and call Scott on the radio to inform him where we have stopped. The wind forecast is for 25 knot winds and we are in an exposed shore so we will take our chance and dive until forced off.
  "Good luck, be safe," Scott says in the usual signing off language of the marine radio." Be safe" is one of the most used terms in Southeast Alaska.  We constantly remind each other that safety is more important than our jobs.
  I am in my dive suit, all the gear stacked on my body so heavily that I can hardly stand up. Weight belt, pony bottle, fins, gloves, hood, dry suit, long johns, computer dive bags. I look like a mound of dive paraphernalia.
  "Its legal time any time your ready. I've got you in 30 feet of water right now," Mike shouts over the roar of the hookah compressor.
  I adjust my mask take a deep breath through my regulator, make sure my arm valve is shut, inflate the dry suit a bit and plunge into the frigid waters of Alaska in mid October.
  The cold water bites my head and lips. Instant cold envelops my hands. I peer into the dark water. It Is black. I cannot see anything but blackness. I swim on the surface towards shore. I'm not too excited about heading for the bottom in inky black water.
  I see bottom and give mike the okay sign with my heavily gloved fingers, he thumbs up me and I arch like a whale and head for the bottom. All sounds except the steady hiss of the regulator intake and out blow cease. I am in a watery world.
  I squeeze my nose and blow to equalize the pressure as I head to the bottom. I reach twenty feet and hit my chest air intake valve to pump air into my dry suit to equalize the pressure on my body. A cold blast hits my chest.
 "Wow, that air sure feels cold when it enters my suit," I think. I am nearing thirty feet and see a cucumber which I quickly pick into my open bag.
  I drop a little deeper and again hit my chest valve. A burst of cold hits my chest again only this time it runs down my chest, down my arm and to my knee.
 "This is not air being cold," I tell myself, "This is water.
  I know I am not going to be down long with cold North Pacific Ocean water filling my dry suit. I turn from the bottom and make my way slowly to the surface.
   Mike leans over the back of the boat and I shout over the machines that my dive is finished. He is very good at putting my safety first and quickly agrees that the dive is finished.
  We stow the dive gear and I wring the water out of my heavy wool undergarments. The irony of the whole deal is that this is the first dive I have made on the suit since it was sent to a dive shop in the lower 48 for new intake and out let valves. Obviously, someone had not tested the suit as promised. My first dive lasted less than ten minutes and my total cucumber was one!
  Oh well, I guess that is life. If I have learned only one thing living in wild Alaska, it is that safety must come first. Everything else has to come second. On the ocean you do not get second chances. Safety, safety, safety.
  I can always push my dive tables when I am dry and comfortable. I will always make sure I am not a causality of hypothermia.
  I idle the boat next to Scott and C.J. and yell over that our dive day has ended and we are headed to town. Scott immediately offers his new back up suit for me to wear. I turn him down, knowing that if I am in his back up and he needs it he would never ask for it back.
  On the way to town I call a friend, Mat, and tell him my woes. He tells me to get on a plane and meet him for a week of moose hunting.
  It doesn't take me long at home to stuff all my hunting gear in some dry bags, make a call to the little airport and head for a plane. I am done diving for a week and off on a moose hunt.

                                  soap bubbles out of my leaking air valve

 

Hunting Harlequin Ducks

  "I sure would like to bag a Harlequin Duck some day," I casually commented to a bear guide neighbor of mine. "I've heard there are some along the Kruzof Shoreline."
  I knew this man spent a lot of time running the beaches of that island in search of the big coastal brown bears.
  My phone rang later that night. "You want to try to find some of those duck in the morning?" He asked. "Looks like the weather might settle down enough to make a skiff trip over there."
  We left the dock in the dark of the early morning and idled through the harbor.
  "Look at that!" Jim said. "There's a flock of long tailed Old Squaws bunched up in the harbor."
  "Wow, that is another trophy duck I'd like to bag, but I've only seen them inside the harbor here."
  The wind was supposed to pick up to nearly gales by noon so our time was limited in the 18 foot skiff.   We broke out of the smooth harbor and between several islands, and into open water. The wind blasted our faces with salt spray.
  "Oh great!" I shouted over the roar of the outboard motor, "The wind is already blowing."
  We had a several mile run in open water to reach the big island ahead and the waves just kept growing and growing.
  "Are you sure we want to keep going?" I shouted back at Jim. He was leaning into the steering wheel and throttling through the growing waves.
  "I think we will get out of it once we hit the shore," he shouted back. "I'll then take us north up the beach and to the north islands and we can sneak back home."
  I kind of doubted him but he has cruised these areas most of his life so I just left it up to him.
  Jim was right on. Once we reached the shore the wind was broken and the waves settled down to manageable ripples.
  We spotted Harlequins as soon as we stopped the boat. They were sitting on rocks. I could not believe my eyes. I have always imagined diver ducks live way out in the open waters of the ocean or the center of vast bays.
  These colorful little ducks were perched, pretty as they pleased, on rocks.
 " I don't know if I can get the boat in tight enough to get one of them," Jim said. "This area is brutal on propellers with all the submerged rocks"
  I was nervous, Jim seemed totally calm. I am used to running a large boat with deep motors and big propellers. I totally stay out of shallow water. Jim lives running his boats in rocky shallow water.
  Jim eased me into a large rock and I clawed my way to the top. A flock of Harlequins burst into flight from the back side and I showed my shooting skills by missing my first shot.
  "Shoot again!" Jim encouraged from the boat. I stood frozen pulling hard on the trigger of the gun but no follow up shot rang out.
  "Oh, good grief," I whimpered to Jim, "I am so used to shooting automatic shotguns that I forgot to pump this pump gun."
  We both got a good laugh at my lack of thinking. The colorful Harlequin ducks were probably laughing as well.
  Jim did a masterful job dodging the rocks and picking his way through kelp forest and managed to get me to a few rocks that held the Harlequins. I amazed both of us by making a couple of good shots and was able to hold my first Harlequin ducks of my life.
  Two days later I called a friend, Don, and asked if he wanted to try to decoy some Harlequins. He has spoken to me of his desire to try to bag one of these trophies.
  "See you in the morning," he quickly committed.
 The morning brought rolling swells breaking on the beach Jim and I had hunted the days before. Huge rollers became curling waves smashing the rocks in white foam.
 Don and I drifted in my big boat looking for some way to try and get the little skiff to the beach.
  "Wow, this is just not going to happen," I said to Don while powering the big boat out of the reach of the curling wave tops.
  "The weather called for no wind, but eight foot swells. I sure didn't think it would pound this beach like this," I added.
 We decided to make a long run through the big swells to an inside water channel.
 "Look at the birds!" We both exclaimed as I powered the boat out of the swells and into  a necked down channel between two rocky islands. " We may be able to hunt this place."
  We long lined some decoys and I let Don off on the skiff. He made his way into a kelp paddy and hunkered down. I idled the big boat a distance away and sat back to watch the show.
 It wasn't long until I heard Don shoot and then caught his waving arm. I raced the boat over to him.
" Got a Harlequin down!" Don shouted excitedly. "He is over that way!"  I looked to where he was pointing and idled the boat to the bird.
  I did not want my little Lab puppy to retrieve this bird as I knew Don planned on mounting it.
  I waited for Don to shoot some Surf Scoters to send little Hali on some ocean retrieves. The little brown dog did an amazing job retrieving it the rolling water. She seemed to be born for this.  
 Don and I had a great sea duck shoot and both agreed that this day would be remembered forever in our minds.
  We had to hurry back to town to beat the early winter darkness.
  Alaska is one of the few places one can find these little ducks, and the nasty winter weather and short days makes it nearly impossible to hunt them around my area.
  I felt so blessed to be able to accomplish one of my bucket list goals.
  I hope to have the little bird perched on my desk as a reminder of how difficult and dangerous it is to pursue a simple little duck.
                                  Halibut with a couple of Harlequins

                             Don driving the skiff to the decoys