Foggy Bay and grizzly bear imaginations

Thursday, July 3, 2008: Foggy Bay to Ketchikan


Russ looking for Foggy Bay.

It was sunny when we came into Foggy Bay. Russ explored Very Inlet first, much to my apprehension. Swirling waters, narrow inlets, fish traps. I felt like I was in a bayou in New Orleans—crocodiles on the grassy banks. Not.

“Russ, let’s get out of here! And go through the very narrow pass from the north.” We did, and narrow it was! And shallow! 13 ft.

“There’s a bear!” Russ pointed to the grassy bank. A huge brown grizzly. His body was half wet. He looked at us as we passed by, curiously, ears perked up so round. I was so taken up reading the depth, that I did not get a picture. He/she was in the shade. Powerful looking, yet deceivingly docile.

We passed through the narrows into a lovely bay with a cut looking out to open waters beyond. Liberty was there, all cozied up with their cockpit canopy. Nor was on deck. We anchored with a view of the cut. A beautiful place. Worth an early sundowner of rum and passion juice on ice.

I awoke at 4:00 AM and looked out through the companionway hatch. We were to leave at 6:00 AM to go with the tide to Ketchikan. Pea soup! I could hardly see the telling anchor lights of the 4 boats resting at peace in the bay. Silence reigned. Zero vision. I crawled back into my bunk under the warmth of feather covers and since sleep did not return, I let my imagination hinge off our bear sighting.

I was on the banks of Foggy Bay when the Grizzly appeared. My body froze, but very, very slowly I moved toward the water, and with utmost care and caution glided into it and started swimming breast stroke toward the boat. The grizzly bear followed suit. I saw Russ come up on deck with the fog horn. He let blast. Again, and again. The bear still following suit. My body was numb with cold and breast strokes heavy. I could virtually smell the Grizzly’s breath. When out of nowhere POW!! A gunshot from the bow of the power boat. POW again. I heard him shout out: “That’s why I carry this gun on board!”

I stopped short of imagining blood flowing or the death of a grizzly bear. Instead, I got up from the warmth of my bed and put the water on for tea. Swimming seemed uninviting.

Looking back to Dixon Entrance, passing Tree Point, before Foggy Bay, we spotted fishing boats with nearby large, bright pink buoys and with very careful sighting through the binoculars, we could see the small white floats of the seine nets. The mainstay for fishermen and Alaska’s fishing industry.

I was down below when I heard Russ yelling “I wasn’t going to run into them!!!”
A fishing boat was coming top speed toward us, as if to T-bone us. Russ turned sharply to starboard and I could see the white floats of the seine net in the gray waters right ahead.

“Turn on your Frick’n radio!” the fisherman yelled in disgust as he spun around taking leave.

Welcome to Alaska!!