It's On

The first salmon of the year was caught here Sunday. I found out when I was walking to my post and I saw a crestfallen Imes beckoning me into the fish freezing building. There, in the cooler, was a fish much like the rainbow trout we have been catching but bigger, stronger, and wilder-looking -- a sockeye salmon, an uneasy look frozen on his face. This salmon had just returned from a 5 year long, nearly 7 thousand mile roundtrip journey into the depths of the Pacific Ocean and back with the hellbent purpose of passing his genes onto the next generation. After successfully evading the predators of the deep sea, the gill nets of commercial fishermen in Bristol Bay, and the talons of hungry eagles, his consuming ambition was finally denied by a middle-aged physician wearing enough fly-fishing gear to look like a runway Cabela’s model. Imes’s dejection was due to the fact that he had caught the first salmon in Brooks River for the last 5 years. So Imes didn’t get the title this year, but he did get dinner since he went out right after work and caught the second one of the year at the mouth of the river.

The first salmon of the summer is quite a big deal here at Brooks River, as it has been for the last 4000 years or so. To the precursor of the modern Eskimo -- the remains of whose dugout houses sit a few hundred yards from my current cabin -- it meant an end to the starvation and struggle of winter; the promise of a few rich and fruitful months that would make the rest of the harsh year worthwhile. To us today it still signifies an opportunity for world class fishing, but more importantly it gives us an important message: the bears are coming.

He have been seeing a few bears around camp, mostly some young females, but over the last few days it has started to pick up. I watched a sow rest while her three cubs, all different shades of blond and brown, played in the surf of Naknek Lake. Love is in the air in June, and the single females have attracted suitors from far and wide. I watched a subadult male we call Knucklehead try to pursue Amelia, a young female, up and down the beach and through our camp. I watched Imes charge this bear to keep him from entering camp. (That’s right, I said charge… as in sprinting at a grown male brown bear, arms waving, making strange puffing noises with his mouth.) After wondering how this scrappy young buck was able to stake a claim to a prime female, our questions were answered with the appearance of B.B. B.B. is the dominant male around here, a monstrous old brown bear known for his ill temper and unforgiving disposition. In training, we watched a video of B.B. fighting a smaller male bear who refused to back down; B.B. tore the flesh off the his back down to the bone and left him within inches of his life. Numerous cubs with inexperienced mothers have not been so lucky. When I first came around a corner saw B.B. lumbering away from me about 30 yards ahead, following Amelia out of camp, nothing had prepared me for that sight. He stands on all fours at least chest high to me. His hindquarters are covered in scars, evidence of battles none of which were lost. Needless to say, we have not seen any more of Knucklehead.

A few days ago the salmon were just gathering at the mouth of the river. Now they are starting to come up into the river, and some people have even reported seeing them try to jump the falls. Soon, the spectacle that this river is famous for will commence as bears congregate at the falls and the lower river to fish and fatten up for the winter. Equal to the spectacle of the bears will be the spectacle of the bear-viewers; starting in July we get hundreds of visitors each day who fly in in the morning and out in the evening just to see bears for a few hours. For now Brooks Falls is just a small waterfall on a mile-long river, and standing there it is hard to believe that such a seemingly insignificant place is the basis for the health of an entire ecosystem, the survival of a community of brown bears, the strength of a regional economy, and the spiritual fulfillment of thousands of people.

(picture coming soon)

I Saved Larry Czonka's Life This Morning

Yeah, you heard me right. Larry Czonka, who is apparently and avid fisherman and has a cable TV show, has a film crew in camp right now to tape him and his guides fishing Brooks River. I was working the corner when he and his crew tried to cross the bridge today, but of course a bear was in the area and decided to graze right next to the bridge. So I got to hold them at the corner, and stand next to the fullback of the 71 Dolphins' undefeated season. Let me tell you that ring is huge (as is the finger it's attached to). I don't know what I was more afraid of, getting eaten by the bear or getting eaten by him. In any case when Larry pops that cork this winter, he has me to thank that he is still around to do it and was not eaten by some bear.

It was actually a pretty eventful day all in all, we saw a couple more bears plus a sow with three cubs. The cubs were almost the size of their mother, so we are guessing they are 2 and a half year olds. This is somewhat unique because by this age many cubs have already been kicked out by their moms.

As you can tell we are getting into the full swing of things here at Brooks Camp. We currently have a good number of hardcore fly fisherman (including some non-Super Bowl winners) out here for the opening of rainbow season on the river. And we are even starting to get some day visitors now, though they are often disappointed if they are expecting bears. Although the ones today saw plenty of action, and 4 of them we lucky enough to attend my first cultural walk (I am sure I'll get into that later). I never got to write an entry about the opening of camp, so here goes:

Brooks Camp officially opened to the public on June 1st, much to the delight of women everywhere who could not wait to see me in uniform. My first duty was to staff the lower platform, a bear-viewing platform that overlooks Brooks River as it feeds into Naknek Lake. I got out there at 8 o'clock to find a calm and sunny morning, with no sign of the hellacious east wind that had swept us for the previous week. Since the bears (and people) have not yet arrived in full force, platform duty is largely a formality at this point in the summer, so I spent two pleasant hours with nothing but a multitude of birds and a sunset to keep me company. I can think of much worse ways to start my day.

I hiked up Dumpling again with ElderHostel, a lifelong learning group that was in camp for the week. This is a much better picture of the view I tried to show you before, with Naknek Lake, Mt. Katolinat (above-right of me), and the mouth of Brooks River where our camp is in the lower left.



My dad has been bugging me about putting up some pictures of my living arrangements and such, so here it is:
























They call this a tent-frame "cabin", which is a nice name for a wood frame of 2x4s and plywood covered with a canvas top. Here is the inside of my hovel, check out my loft up top:

One last thing: if you leave comments, don't forget to check back at the page of that particular entry because I usually answer them. Later folks.