Dot, dot, dot; I say the word crazy its true but not as it applys to you . it’s the state im in, not to be confused with my state of mind … but I don’t think you know what I am talking about, do you. It was a good summer to say the least. was good to me, and I think I am the luckiest person in the world.
One quick tale and then a picture:
The ranger at the trailhead made it clear not to lose the trail near the saddle of Near point on the third day of our backpack, but that was an hour ago and I couldn’t be bothered by that now. I was on a game trail with my trusting campers following, and I was assuming it was a Moose’s trail I had stumbled across as apposed to something worse. Sure enough my hunch was confirmed as I rounded a bush and there stood before me was the most mellow moose I had ever connected eyes with. As I continued to bushwhack I came to two realizations. They came just as I was stepping over the remains of another dead moose. First; one moose doesn’t just eat another moose. And second; Game trails are just like freeways: everyone uses them. A giant pile of poo…bear poo…grizzly bear poo was the last thing that I wanted to step in as I forged on. “At least it wasn’t fresh” I told myself. “You would only be in trouble if it was fresh,” is what I kept reminding myself for the next hour as I marched deeper and deeper into the bush. We humped through this nasty web of tangled trees that I thought would never end until I came to my worst fear. There before me was a huge pile of fresh, wet, smelly Grizzly bear poo. And just in front of it were three huge bear paw prints. The claw marks left in the mud were big enough to scare Jesus himself. I thought of a lot of things at that moment.
I decided to blaze my own trail and not share my recent find with the group. I drew my pocket knife-as if it would do any good- and the kids just laughed at my fear. It was the joke of the trip but that was fine by me. We were in tall grass now and every step I was convinced that I would trip over an angry, hungry bear and that would be that… But that never happened to me. Instead we found the trail and that night watched the fireworks miles away over the city of anchorage. It was the fourth of July, and damn it felt good to be an American… in Alaska…
