To pass air time on the way up, I finished Ellen Meloy's latest book, 'The Last Cheater's Waltz: Beauty and Violence in the Desert Southwest'. In the bookstore, it was hard to resist - sporting a black and white picture of the old road to Los Alamos, looking back towards Santa Fe in the far distance on it's cover. The photograph was taken close by one of my favorite spots where I had been just the week before:

Looking to the Sangres from Tsankawi
  

In many way's it's a disturbing book, fusing the beautiful and the dangerous, (or as the Zuni put it: tso'ya, attanni) into her 'Map of the Known Universe', and herself. Working primarily with this Map, she gradually constructs it by weaving in the past with contemporary, and at times troubled stories of the land where she lived⁵. The place that drew her in. And won't let go.

I thought about my Alaska maps back in California, along with all the guidebooks. Unplanned, I was flying to Alaska mapless. Like Meloy, I would only work from my experience, and what I could glean out of it. On this brief trip, I'd have none of my usual modern guided assistants. Feeling my way, I'd be constructing this segment of my map. I welcomed the adventure. It would be hard to ever get lost. I felt that I'd need a destination on a map to know that. Beyond McNeil, I had neither of those right now.

It was interesting that I had Meloy's southwestern wanderings, in a landscape, with it's many stories as familiar to me as any favorite pair of old shoes, to set the tone of my thoughts going in. It reminded me that we're all busy mapping the world with our stories.

A sunny Homer was behind us, by now that seemed ages ago. The flight over had also been sunny below widely scattered clouds. The clouds packed up, to became the grey sky waiting here for our arrival.

It's a big shock for everyone. Having left the last fringe of civilization barely an hour before, then being quickly thrust into the elements after a wonderful flight. The only escape from the rain, and the outside is the cooking shed. That's where we all head.

The group which has just finished their four days here, is already crowded into the shed cooking. Most are not leaving until tomorrow so it's extra crowded in the only dry spot available. But it's exciting listening to all the new conversations, energized and empowered by four days of bear viewing.

Stories about which bear did what today. And which ones were seen. We who have come from a civilized land empty of these bears, inhale the many stories and conversations like fish out of water. We have dropped into a den of talking bears. Others here think that it's rather ordinary, and frequently necessary to rescue those bears who have inappropriately wandered into urbanized lands. Store them in the garage overnight, with all the ruckus that ensues from caging a wild animal. And then trucking them away just as caged in the morning in an open pickup. To the dismay of dog owners in adjacent pickups down the road. Listening to these stories one is convinced that Alaska is full of people who's only concern is the safety, and well being of all bears. The unspoken correlary to this, is the failure of the rest of us for not holding this as our own priority.

It's still raining outside. The plane has left. We from the bear desert, have the option of either sticking it out in the shed with the bear people, or showering in the rain. Either way we're being drenched by the wilderness we have dropped into. Given the extreme environment we are in, it's hard to know what to do.

We're all visitors at McNeil. We have come from all over the world. So we should not be surprised to find that we're not the only travelers. The bears come from miles arround to feast on the salmon. It's estimated that some bears travel up to 70 miles to get to McNeil. The bears will be gone at the end of summer. The returning salmon will stay on in spirit. They leave their spent bodies, and hopefully their progeny behind. It's unknown how far they have traveled to take part in the drama we are about to see.

Any magic that we might associate with these bears, is due to the greater mystery of the salmon. The untold story at McNeil is the story of the salmon.  Chum salmon on the McNeil, Red (sockeye) salmon on the Mikfik. The fish born of these waters, and as with all youth everywhere, lead away. Into the sea by the flow, and gravity of swirling water. For a few years swimming thousands of miles, and great oceanic depths away. Returning to us now at their end. Back to the souce that nurtured them. Pulled here by mysterious forces greater than those which lead them away as youth.

Without salmon there would not be bears to closely watch. Nor eagles near by.

It is early in the season for salmon running the falls, so at the end of our first day out with the bears, we stopped by Mikfik Creek on our way back to camp. It's a muddy slog over to the creek, but it's always worth it. Tom, our lead guide for the day said we should see some action at the creek. We hung out for about a half an hour seeing no bears, or noticing no salmon in the water. Waiting long, while only the tide moved in, several conversations started up as they will. We milled about, forgetting where we were, and what we waited for.

Finally there was a bit of splashing in the water. It's the finny version of a sleek sportster's screetching brakes. An effective way that salmon use to alert the external world of their presence. Yakking away, we didn't quite get the hint. We were too busy chatting, and hanging out on the bank of the Mikfik in the warm summer sun. The salmon stayed down at the bend in deeper water. Occassionally the sound of salmon slapping water was heard. We were a bit further upstream on the bank.

The immovable salmon impasse lasted for at least 15 minutes before I mentioned that it might be best if we were to move off the bank. I had been convinced on my first visit to McNeil five years before, that the salmon were not unwitting, and unaware creatures for the bear party we had come to watch. They're unwilling participants, with a finely honed awareness of the surroundings. And when they aren't clear about what's around them, they rise to the water's surface and look. Just to be sure. Understanding the sacrifice, they wait until the numbers, the time, and a tidal consensus moves them on. Since we probably looked like bears from the water, they hung out in the relative safety of deeper water.

A few notes:

  
¹ For those unfamiliar with McNeil and the lottery process, note that access to McNeil is limited to individuals holding permits. You can't just charter a plane, and drop in, like at Katmai NP. Almost all permits are obtained by applying for the McNeil lottery which is held every year in March. Depending on the time slot one selects, you'll find that less than 10% of the applicants will end up with a four day permit.

Both of my trips had people who had been applying for this priviledge for at least 10 years. Obviously some people are luckier than others. Winning the permit takes luck, and attention to deadlines months in advance of going. And the ability to manage your schedule that far ahead. Even after winning, you'll find that some individuals do not show up. That's why there's a standby permit system. The standby permit allows people into McNeil, without the right to go to the bear viewing spots.

For a standby permit holder to go out, either a regular permit holder failed to show up, or has decided not to hike out of camp that day. While it is possible that a standby permit holder would not be able to go out for the entire four day stay, usually they are able to get out of camp at least one (if not more) of the days. Staying in camp is not completely without benefit at McNeil. Many females with cubs frequent that area in order to stay away from the males, who will attempt to kill the cubs. While bear viewing in camp is more limited than out of camp, it's not as uneventful as it may first appear.

For more information about the lottery, follow the Alaska State link for McNeil at the top of the page.

  
² Things keep changing, after 25 years Kachemak Air has sold the de Havilland Otter, and with that ended their flights to McNeil. You'll need to ferret out another local floatplane operator to get you from Homer to McNeil.
 
Their son Jose deCreeft (who flew me over on this trip) presently flys charters to McNeil under the name 'Northwind Aviation' from Homer.
 
On my first trip I flew over with Beluga Air, we did a full circle flyover of the smoking St Augustine volcano you'll see on the way to McNeil. I still remember that well.

  
³ There are interesting local stories (or maybe not so) of McNeil permit holders waiting the entire four day period out for either weather to break, or luggage to show up. I can't recommend that anyone attempt to brave the plane flights as I did, unless you're born lucky.

  
⁴ In addition to her ongoing work on the salmon project , Fobes co-founded the Blue Earth Alliance, an organization dedicated to assisting photographers pursue photographic projects about endangered environments, threatened cultures, and associated social issues.

  
⁵ Ellen Meloy's 'Map of the Known Universe' is integral to my thoughts on this web page, so it was a bit unnerving to learn that Ellen quietly died in her sleep at home in Bluff, Utah on 4 November 2004, she was 58. Two days after the national presidential election.
   http://www.moabtimes.com/view/full_story/67858/article-Ellen-Meloy-died-at-he-home-in-Bluff?
   http://www.ellenmeloy.com