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IPFS

Meeting Mr. Grizzly: Scuzzy, Yukky, Grubby and Stinky

Written by Subject: Travel

                           "Close living for many days days 

                              rubs away your veneer--your body 

                              aromas remind you, that you too

                              are an animal." 

                                                   Rex Wooldridge

         Alaska is big and its sky is vast.  Towering mountains breach the blue expanse with their snow-covered summits.  Clear­ air stretches from one horizon to the other.  On the land,­ wildlife forage for food.  In the sky, golden eagles soar on­ crisp thermals, always watchful for a meal. Bald eagles cruise the skies looking for carrion along the Yukon River.  While­ riding a bicycle through this last frontier of America, the immensity of the land swallowed my imaginatoin.  At times, glaciers from some of the peaks, crash down alongside the roads. There is nothing quite like Alaska. It's a land standing in the shadow of­ North America's tallest mountain (20,320 feet) Denali, "The Great­ One."  

         Rex and I stashed our cycles and reached Wonder Lake campground via bus, 85­miles into the interior of Denali National Park. We camped 29 miles from the base of Denali.  As we stood there in the morning,­ thunderheads drew away from the great white face as if impelled by invisible forces.  Morning shadows stretching over the­ features of Denali created a new dimension from what we had seen­ the evening before.  

         We had stayed up most of the night watching Denali and the midnight sun produce a spectacular light show.  During the late­ hours, pink-gray clouds streaked across the mountain in wisps­ until temperature changes drew thin vapors away from the peak, revealing a stunning view of the mountain.  The orange-pink-­yellow rays of the setting sun kept us in constant suspense until 2:00 a.m. when ebbing light seemed to draw the cloud cover once again over Denali.

         At 4:15 a.m., we jumped out of our tents when a British fellow yelled excitedly, "The mountain's out. It fills the sky!"

         We walked over to a tundra pond where Denali reflected in the glass-still morning waters.  The mountain's white brilliance­ startled us.  It grew larger as the sun rose into the Arctic sky. The shadows across its face grew shorter with each passing minute.  The silent drama unfolded while a dozen people clicked­ pictures.  

         Luck was with us.  Denali rises so high into the sky it affects weather conditions for 100 miles in every direction. Clouds cover it more than 60% of the time. But this morning, they drew back with the rising sun, giving everyone in the park a fabulous view.  

         "Let's get packed," Rex said. "That bus will be coming in­ another hour."

         "What's the hurry?" I asked.

         "Well, we've been here three days, and we've seen the best view of the mountain.  Besides I'm getting low on food," Rex­ said. "Not only that, a guy I talked to last night said he had­ traveled across the Denali Highway, and said it was fantastic. Tons of wildlife along the way."

         "Guess you're right," I said. "We've seen the best of this­ mountain for the past couple of days."

         Wildlife strutted before us on our way out of the park.­ (Everyone must take a bus that bumps and jolts over an 85-mile long dirt road, ending at Wonder Lake campground.) Dahl sheep walked along craggy cliffs. Caribou ran down the road in front of the bus, while moose browsed in ponds.  A golden eagle swooped­ through the valleys.  A mama grizzly stood on a hill near the road.  Her cub ran around like a child possessed, obviously­ wanting to play tag.  She whacked it on the noggin, sending the­ cub sprawling.  It jumped back up, shook itself off, then leaped­ into a tundra pond. Back at the park entrance, we picked up our­ bikes at the ranger station where we had cabled them to a tree.  

         "We're looking at three days on that road," Rex said. "It's only 140 miles from Cantwell to Paxson, but it's gravel. Could get rough if it rains."

         "We better load up on food."

         "Okay," I said. "We can make it as far as the junction tonight.  It looks about forty miles away from here on the map. I need to get a bath too.  I feel like I've been dragged through­ camel dung and left to dry for three days. I can't stand myself."

         "I can't stand you either, and I'm as smelly as you are. One whiff of my pits just about knocks me out."

         We loaded our bikes with food and water. Nice to be on the road again, after a week of hiking around the park.  Alaska is­ wild except for a few cities that give the illusion of­ civilization. Less than 700,000 Alaskans live in the state that­ comprises 1/5 of the USA's landmass.  Most of those people live in Anchorage, Fairbanks and Juneau. That leaves the land to the wild creatures.

         The road to Cantwell wound through dense forests and hilly­ terrain.  My legs weren't used to pedaling.  Within the hour, they settled down to a steady cadence.  We reached the junction­ in the evening, but in the "Land of the Midnight Sun" we had­ plenty of light.  Our bike tires dropped off the pavement onto­ the gravel.  The gravel road wound through some pines and­ vanished over a ridge.

         "First stream we come to is bath time," Rex said. "I'm going to bed tonight smelling like a rose."

         "Sounds good to me."

         We climbed through the trees until we reached a rolling­ plain with mostly dark tundra grasses covering the landscape.  Mount Deborah stood in the distance.  It was cool riding so we­ didn't sweat much.  We were dirty from not bathing for a week.  

         It feels miserable when you ride a few days without washing. The dried sweat combines with dirt to make your whole body feel­s scuzzy, yukky, grubby and stinky.  You feel despicable.  Long­ distance bicycle riders know the feeling because it happens often.  With a rise in the terrain, you sweat again, which starts­ steaming through your parka.  New odors tweak your nose and since you hadn't smelled them before, you wonder about yourself.  Close­ living for many days rubs away your veneer--your body aromas remind you, that you too, are an animal.  

         I start dreaming of a hot bath where I can soak away that­ scuzziness swirling around my nostrils.  That's the way I was feeling after cranking up that rise. Except I knew we weren't going to find a hot bath out there.  No matter what, I was­ jumping into a stream.  I knew that rivers in Alaska originated from glaciers, but that didn't impact upon my mind at the moment.       "There's a river up ahead," Rex yelled.

         "Great!  Let's pitch camp."

         As soon as we stopped, the mosquitos made their assault on our bodies.  I pitched my tent and jumped in to change.

         "These skitters are ready to eat us for dinner," I told Rex,­ as I walked toward the river, with an air brigade swarming around my head. 

         I kicked off my shower sandals and dipped my foot into the river.  

         "Rex, come over here quick!" I yelled. "I need your help.  These mosquitos are eating me alive.  This water isn't just cold­ man, it's liquid ice.  Hurry up, swat these devils."

         "Just dive into the water," Rex said.

         "Are you crazy?  It's freezing."

         "If you don't take a bath, you won't be able to live with yourself, so quit pussy-footing around--get wet."

         I walked into the water up to my crotch. My skin instantly responded by erupting into goose bumps right up to my neck.  Rex­ swatted the mosquitos but a few bit me.  My body told me NOT to­ sink below the surface, but my mind told me I wanted to be clean. A battle raged within me until I heard Rex say, "Go ahead, get it over with."

         With one last hesitation, I dropped below the surface like a­ brick.  The frigid water attacked my skin like dry ice.  Every­ cell in my body told me what a fool I was for pulling this crazy stunt. I clutched my soap as I shot out of the water like a dolphin trying to fly.

         "AHEEEEEEEEEEE," I yelled. "I'm gonna' die."

         "You'll die clean," Rex added, laughing.

         I lathered up in double time, trying to reach every part of my body, to get clean.  My hair took a bit longer, but soon, I­ was soaped up.  Again, I plunged downward into the current.  I rubbed my hands over my body to get the soap off my skin. The sledge hammer cold water nearly knocked me out.  Pure agony­ engulfed me, but in seconds I burst out of the water.

         Rex stood near me, swatting the insects while I toweled down­ and struggled into my tights.  He took his bath moments later.  I­ laughed with glee knowing what kind of misery he was­ experiencing.  

         The sun sank low in the sky when we sat down to a campfire. In the distance, a wolf howled at a rising half-moon.  After writing in our journals, we slipped into the tents for a night's­ sleep.

         In the morning, I woke up with a start.  I heard some kind­ of animal outside my tent. I smelled it, something with a bad­ case of halitosis.

         "Rex, you hear what I hear?" I whispered.

         "Yeah, I can see it."

         "What is it?"

         "A grizzly."

         "Oh shit."

         I crawled out of my sleeping bag feeling a strange kind of­f fear welling up inside me.  I felt like that once before when I was with a friend and he drove us into a near head-on accident. The pit of my stomach turned to acid and I was paralyzed with terror because I thought I was going to die.  Outside my tent at that moment, was another kind of death--something that I had admired from the distance the day before, but now, a wild­ creature looking for food.  It could be gentle and it could be­ savage.  At that moment it could let us live or eat us, and we would not have much to say about it.  Weighing in at over 1,000­pounds, it was interesting to note that grizzlies make a living with their claws and teeth.  I could see its brown fur right­ outside my tent flaps.  I grabbed my bear spray.  I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I said nothing.  Rex must have been thinking the same thing. Make no sounds and pray the beast left us in peace.    

         Seconds passed.  I clutched my legs in pure fright.  Rex and I could live or die depending on the grizzly's appetite. Minutes passed as the big fellow grunted around our tents.  I sat in a­ state of mental paralysis.  My heart thundered against my ribs and I could hear it in my head.  My hands shook and I felt blood racing through my arteries with increasing amounts of adrenaline­ being dumped into it by the second. I wanted to escape, but my mind knew that a grizzly can outrun a horse for a short distance,­ so I sat there.  

         They say your life passes before your eyes when you're about to die, but that wasn't true with me.  I couldn't think of­ anything.  Yet I heard everything the bear did, DISTINCTLY.  It dug around my tent, snorting and grunting.  It sniffed the nylon­ and left a long trail of saliva across my roof.  Five minutes passed as the bear worked its way around the end of my tent. Its shadow loomed across the nylon.  Every cell in my body said, "RUN."  But my mind said, "Stay."  The­ grizzly worked his way around to the front.  His odor filled my lungs with fear.  Soon, he was digging for something ten feet away from the tent.  I saw him through the crack in my flaps. Then something caught his attention in the brush and he ambled­ toward it.  His dirty butt vanished into the bushes.

         "Frosty," Rex whispered. "Are we going to live?"

         "It's a toss-up," I answered. "We better keep calm so we­ don't attract his attention."

         "I've been scared to stone the last ten minutes anyway, so don't worry about me moving."

         "I've never been so scared in my life."

         "I'm still scared."

         We waited for what seemed like an eternity before seeing the grizzly appear on a ridge a hundred yards away from us.  He was headed away from us without looking back.

         "Let's get the hell out of here," Rex said, as he crammed­ his sleeping bag into the stuff sack.

         We broke camp in record time.  While looking back over our shoulders, we cranked with exceptional power. We picked up our food stash 300 feet up the road.  It must have been the adrenaline stored up while we were in the tents waiting for­ the grizzly to maul us.  He had decided to find his food­ elsewhere.  We headed in the opposite direction.

         "You know how close we came to going to that single track in­ the sky?" Rex said as we rode away. "I can't begin to tell you how scared I was.  I couldn't function.  So many things went through my mind.  I remembered every article I ever read about campers being dragged out of their sleeping bags and mauled. I­ just couldn't believe it was happening to me but it was, and it­ scared me out of my wits."

         "You took the words right out of my mouth," I said. "It could happen any night we camp in the wilds, because this land is their land."

         "Yeah, that's what I notice a lot up here," Rex said. "No­ telephone poles or buildings anywhere in the wilds.  It may be one of the last places we can ride and see it the way it's­ supposed to be."

         For the next hour, I was deep in thought.  We could have been killed.  I felt sick inside.  I pondered the stories I had­ read in newspapers about people dying in the wilderness.  Some froze to death because they marched into the wilderness unprepared.  Others died by not wearing a life-vest in an overcrowded boat.  A few died in avalanches because they ventured­ into the backcountry.  Many mountain climbers fall to their­ deaths. Outside the wilderness, more die because they don't take­ the time to buckle their seat belts.  Sometimes, big airliners­ fall out of the sky.  There are so many ways of dying, but those deaths don't affect us because we are so far removed.  It's like it won't happen to me.  Friends ask me if I'm afraid to die on­ one of my world adventures. Sure, it's true I could die on the road if some driver ran over me.  I could die on a plane too. 

         I don't think about death because it is a waste of time. It's negative energy.  I do everything in my power to make sure I don't put myself in danger--I wear a helmet, fly two orange flags­ on the side and top of my bicycle, don't go into countries where­ I'll get shot, and check my food and water for cleanliness. I carried bear spray.  But­ after I've covered the bases as well as possible, I figure life is for living.  I don't sit around worrying about it.  Nobody is guaranteed anything. 

         We followed the soft/hard dirt road over hills and through­ shallow valleys.  Our hands took a beating.  We gripped the bars to keep upright.  After crossing a glacial plain, we climbed 1,000 feet to a ridge.  In back of us, thousands of tundra ponds­ dotted the valley. In the middle, a braided river swept along,­ continually weaving into and out of itself.

         Near the edge of a cliff, we laid the bikes down to take pictures.  The vast pond covered plain below us stretched north toward the glacier-covered mountains.  As we stood there, the sun­ forced its way through pocket holes in the clouds. Large steam columns seemed to prop up the sky like the poles on circus tents. From that point along the Denali Highway, we had bicycled into­ the center of the world's highest vertical mountain range. Denali soared 20,300 feet high to our west, Mount Hayes stood­13,382 feet to the north, Mount Sanford rose 16,237 feet to the­ southeast, and the lesser mountains of the Talkeeta Range 9,000­feet to the south.

         "Can you believe this sight?!" Rex said. "We're in the middle of some pretty high peaks.  Look in the valley.  There must be thousands of ponds along the river, and they look like­ tiny mirrors."

         "It runs right up to that glacier at the foot of the mountains...hey look, a herd of caribou off to the left, see­ 'em?"

         "Yeah, sure do," Rex said. "This sight is worth our brush with death."

         We jumped back on the bikes heading east. The road was bumpy.  Late in the afternoon, we camped on a high ridge looking north toward glacier covered peaks.

         The next day, the road and weather were in our favor.  We­ made good time to Paxson where we crossed over the Delta River. The water was glass clear, but something was happening in the­ shallows of the riverbed.

         "You see that water?" Rex said. "It's blood red!"

         "Yeah, and the blood is running up river against the current."

         "Look closer," Rex gasped. "Those are fish...oh I know what­ they are."

         "What?"

         "I read it in a tour magazine.  Those are Sockeye salmon­ going up stream to spawn. They turn bright red when they hit the­ fresh water after being in the ocean for a few years."

         Before us, thousands of 10 to 15 pound fire engine red salmon raced against the crystal clear current.  Some rested four­ to five deep behind large rocks in the river. The white sandy­ bottom rendered a perfect backdrop for this color show.  It was like when I cut my finger as a kid and stuck it under the faucet. My blood turned the water red.  That's what these fish were doing­ on their way up stream, which created an extraordinary visual experience.  Their endless numbers colored the water red.

         I stood there in amazement at nature's creative hand.  I was glad the blood red color was in the river, and that I was seeing­ it, with my own body in one piece.  

         Wherever that grizzly is today, I am thankful he spared me.­  I will never forget the sight of those claws cutting through my tent nor the smell of his being in my nostrils. 

"If the roar of a wave crashes beyond your campsite, you might call that adventure.  When coyotes howl outside your tent--that may be adventure.  While you're sweating like a horse in a climb over a 12,000-foot pass, that's adventure.  When a howling headwind  presses your lips against your teeth, you're facing a mighty adventure.  If you'repushingthrough a howling rainstorm, you're soaked in adventure.  But that's not what makes an adventure. It's your willingness to struggle through it, to present yourself at the doorstep of Nature.  That creates the experience.  No more greater joy can come from life than to live inside the 'moment' of an adventure.  It may be a momentary 'high', a stranger that changes your life, an animal that delights you or frightens you, a struggle where you triumphed, or even failed, yet you braved the challenge.  Those moments present you uncommon experiences that give your life eternal expectation.  That's adventure!" Frosty Wooldridge 

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