Bears, Up Close and Personal, in the Alaskan Wilderness
Rule number one on a Kodiak Island adventure: Never surprise a bear. “Stay together, talk in normal tones and don’t make sudden movements,” instructs guide Fred Katelnikoff, shouldering a rifle and leading our group of six hikers from the Karluk Lake shore, where we’ve anchored our skiff, to a river bluff viewing post. In between lies a mountain-backed meadow of shoulder-high wildflowers, grasses and fireweed where, most certainly, bears bed down.
The evidence lies in the vague trails parting the grass where large things clearly have trod, empirical reminders of the Alaskan island’s fame as home to the densest population of brown bears in the world: An estimated 3,500 bears live on Kodiak, or roughly one per square mile.
A second armed guide, Arnold Charliaga, brings up the rear, but our ten-minute trek is tense, halting and hushed. Pausing on a hillock, Katelnikoff puts out an arm, signaling us to stop. Suddenly a young bear pops up on hind legs above the grasses, ears erect, towering 20 feet ahead. We instinctively bunch together, hearts pounding. “Well, good morning,” says the guide calmly, holding his ground. Then, after several agonizing seconds, the bear drops down and disappears in the bush, huffing in complaint as it crashes toward the river and a reunion with its mother.