Bath time for the bear from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Only thing missing is a loofer and a little foam bath… Watch out for the bubbles. And if you think that’s disgusting, you want to see what males black bears can get up to. Attention seekers. Still, explains why you’d struggle to find an anatomically correct teddy bear. Fortunately.
Bear necessities from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Introducing a couple of playful brown bear cubs. At a conservation centre outside of Anchorage, Alaska.
Like others on the staff, John had original been a guest in the hostel. Returning to Alaska after a decent spell in the US Air Force. A retired Lieutenant Colonel. I don’t think he’d ever imagined he’d end up running two hostels, a few miles apart in Anchorage. But that didn’t seem to matter, for it was quickly evident he knew how to look after his people, both staff and guests. Actually, I thought it was more than that. He cared about them, as you would family.
It had started with a simple, unremarkable e-mail. To Anchorage’s Bent Prop Inn Hostel. I must have included a link to my website, for John replied, inviting me to stay as his guest. Could he help with some PR? I’d taken him up on this. Keen to show I always did what I promised, I’d got a press release off to him pretty promptly. Assured him plans were in place, flights booked, I’d soon be on my way. Wouldn’t let him down.
I’d tracked him down on my second day in Anchorage, eager to introduce myself. Until then not quite appreciating just how busy he was. Quickly apparent that, despite this, he always had time for others, be they staff or guests. Lunch together, joined by owner Ben, a former pilot who’s antics had inspired the Bent Prop Inn Hostel’s name. His passion was break dancing, something, I was to discover a bit later, he’d used to tremendous effect in the slums of New York, helping to steer young men away from crime.
Many of the hostel guests were student workers. Chinese, Moldovians, Russians, Polish, mostly young people far from their families for the very first time, in a society quite different from their own. Working in local fast food outlets or in the fish factories. Early starts and long hours. The hostel their home, John and his team de facto loco parentis. Like Dave, also a former guest, with years of experience running a homeless shelter. There were rules of course. Sensible ones. Strict no alcohol policy for example. The sort of things that make communal living work. A very homely affair.
[With especial thanks to John, Ben and the team – Cindy and Lisa at the midtown site, Dave, Adam and Reggie at downtown. If you’re in Anchorage, I’d heartily recommend a stay at the Bent Prop Inn Hostel – click here for further details]
Bear encounter from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Majestic creatures the brown bear, more commonly referred to as the Grizzly because of its supposedly grizzled look.
They call it Beaver Fever explained host Linda. What you can get if you drink seemingly ice cold, pure melt water. For if bears defecate in the woods, beavers, well, I think you know. Contracting Guardia or Cryptosporidum relatively commonplace.
I’d been toying with sending my water filter home, simply because I’d not used it. Besides, I’d both chlorine and iodine tables. But some bugs are pretty resistent and boiling water, whilst effective, can often be fairly impractical. The filter, at least, is able to produce safe drinking water. Probably best to keep it. Lugged it around for three continents. One more wouldn’t matter.
Fireweed. So called because it’s the first to thrive on fire ravaged lands. But, perhaps more importantly, it provides a useful indication of the imminence of autumn. Once the flowers on the upper part of the plant have bloomed, the onset of the harsh winter is roughly six weeks away. Or, put another way, if you’re bicycling in Alaska, get a move on!
How Linda kept track of everyone I never quite understood. There’d been over three hundred guests in the last year. One evening there were nine us all told, six visitors, her partner Angie and Lewis the lodger. This, she explained cheerfully, was a little more than the norm. Split between three tents in the garden and three bedrooms.
Warmly greeted by Linda as I’d emerged from Arrivals at Anchorage airport, I’d been dropped off at the house before the other guests had risen. Not yet seven. Lewis first to appear, disappearing off quickly to work. Then Christine, a robust but friendly German. And fellow cyclists, Amelia and Tracy, camped in the garden. Lastly, Chloe. Hers was an adopted name, which pleased me as her Taiwanese one was quite unpronounceable.
Hectic it might have been at times, chaotic it was not. For there was an order, gently imposed as befits someone with many years experience working as a nurse in Corrections. And never ceasing to give everyone her full attention, to make you feel like a long lost friend. An impromptu birthday party on evening. Cake and candles.
[Ken found Linda thorough very reputable US website www.warmshowers.org – a forum for hosting fellow cyclists]
"Brown bear lie down, black bear fight back"
"Brown bear lie down, black bear fight back" explained host Angie. A simple mantra I thought. I could remember that. But you do need to be able to recognise what sort of bear you’re dealing with, for colour isn’t a reliable guide. Facial features the key, together with the fact that the brown bear has a grizzled look. Hence why they’re often referred to as the Grizzly. Think bit of a bad hair day. Which, incidentally, is what you’re likely to have if you encounter one close up.
You’d be forgiven for thinking the Grizzly – or brown bear – is the most dangerous. Sounds aggressive. Whilst you’d probably be wise to avoid attempting to give it a tummy rub, it’ll usually leave you alone unless it feels threatened. Unlike the black bear, who’s curiosity means it may well approach. Especially if it thinks it can find food. And there’s quite a few more black ones around than the brown.
Seems the best way to survive a bear encounter is to avoid it if you possible can. So, no surprising them. Or coming between mother and cubs. Like most creatures, they are likely to attack if they feel threatened. Make lots of noise, but avoid rhythmic sounds as this may make them curious. You can buy bear bells – not for them to wear but for you to carry – but I do wonder about their usefulness. Other than to give the hairy critter a spot of indigestion. Whistling’s probably out unless you want to sound like one of their smaller furry staples.
I’m also guessing they have exclusive fishing rights for salmon, so be very careful near rivers. And look out for their droppings – scat. Especially if it contains bells. Half eaten hikers are also indicative of the presence of bears.
When camping, keep nothing in your tent but yourself, sleeping bag and some bear spray. Always thoroughly wash yourself, ideally with unperfumed soap, before turning in, and never sleep in the clothes you wore when cooking. Everything else gets suspended for a tree, out of reach, and a reasonable distance away. It’s not just the smell of food that can draw a bear in, it’s any unusual odor. Especially if it’s one associated with the presence of humans.
If you do stumble upon a bear, back away slowly. Never run. Never. They can reach forty miles an hour. And sustain it. Make yourself appear big, rather than a tasty morsel. Wave your arms in the air. That sort of thing. Avoid shooting at the creature. Chances are, short of a howitzer, you’ll just annoy it. More. People do carry handguns into the wilds, but they’re far better suited to incapacitating your travelling companions so you can effect an escape. Playing tapes of Sarah Palin speeches remains an untried option.
If the bear does attack worth remembering a couple of things. Brown bears usually bluff charge, veering off at the last minute. The operative word being usually. Seeking refuge up a tree is probably futile. Two reasons. Black bears, with their smaller claws, can climb them. Brown bears can’t. Probably don’t need to, being able to just fell them. Better to rely on your handy can of bear spray. Doesn’t cause any permanent harm to the creatures if that’s your thing. Not sure I’d be too concerned with animal welfare during an encounter.
And, assuming you don’t end up as lunch, important to freshen up afterwards. Bathing in the nearest salmon river probably not a good idea. But you’ll no doubt need a through scrubbing. If only to remove all traces of the bear spray that’ll be lingering on you and your clothes. For, after a little while, it starts to act as a bear aphrodisiac. And that’d be a horrible way to go…
Providence Hospital, Anchorage. Small coffee shop, caught just before it closed. In need of caffeine. I’d not slept for more than four or so hours in the last forty eight, the seemingly perpetual daylight thwarting efforts to rest.
Second day in Alaska. First mostly taken up with recovering my trusty steed. I’d ventured into the city, eager to introduce myself to John at the Bent Prop Inn Hostel. He’d offered to help with some PR. I’d inadvertently gone to the wrong site, for there were two hostels, Downtown and Midtown. I’d headed to the latter, but it didn’t matter as he happened to be there.
He recognised me before I he. Soon dropped off at a nearby outdoor equipment shop, then lunch at a downtown bar. Joined by hostel owner and former US Marine Corps helicopter pilot Ben. John had a few things to do, so I headed off with Ben. Driving around the city for a while on a few errands. Hazy memories but quite sure I’d been introduced to a woman who’d survived a machete attack. Finally parting company at the US Geological Survey offices so I might find a decent map of Alaska.
Unable to sleep I might have been, but entirely aware of my surroundings I wasn’t. As if in a dream, although a fairly lucid one at that. A voice. From where I wasn’t at first sure. Then the slow realisation it was from someone I felt I should recognise, for it seemed they were addressing me. A greeting. Yes. I remembered suddenly. Tracy. A fellow cyclist also staying with me at Linda’s house. We’d been introduced earlier.
It was very late, close on ten pm, but I’d decided to go shopping in a nearby supermarket. Thought I might as well do something useful whilst I wrestled with jet-lag in what seemed like almost perpetual daylight. In the summer Anchorage having as little as four hours twilight. Tracey and friend Amelia had ridden to the outlet, whilst I’d opted to walk. My trusty steed yet to be reassembled. Besides, I’d have been a danger to myself if I’d tried to ride.
I’d landed much earlier in the day, around five in the morning, a screaming child depriving me of even a dose on the overnight flight from Hawaii. Met by host Linda at the airport, I really had planned to sleep when she’d dropped me off at her house. But it wouldn’t have worked. Neither sufficiently tired to do so or, for the most part, alert enough to do anything useful. Instead, drifting about like a small boat parted from its moorings.
