I'm certain that if I find myself fighting the wilderness for survival, I am hosed no matter if I have a four-inch blade or a ten-inch one.
That's one of those scenarios in which I would love to rise to the occasion but would probably dehydrate first.
Nice pictures, by the way. What's the story on the second one?
You asked what was the story about the bear picture.
I’m not sure that this is the venue to tell that story, but will reply.
If it is inappropriate, hopefully the powers that be will move it to the correct location and advise me of it’s location.
Anyway, since you asked.
Back in the early 1980s, I worked as a helicopter pilot contracted to the BLM in Alaska.
Shortly after the gas embargo of the late 1970s, the oil companies began searching for oil all over Alaska.
The Alaska state government fearing that the big oil companies would just force the native Alaskans off their property, passed a law stating that all native Alaskans were entitled to a160 acre homestead.
All they had to do was show that they actually lived there and provide it’s location so it could be registered in their name.
Sounds simple. However it was soon learned that the only formal survey was a 20 mile band along the coast.
The native Alaskans had no way of defining where their property actually was.
Frantically, the BLM was charged with the task of providing a formal Cadastral (large scale marking township and range markers) survey of 92% of the land mass of Alaska.
The BLM hired a small army of surveyors and several helicopter companies to do the job.
I was one of the pilots hired.
The Hughes 500D that I flew in Alaska
The picture in question was taken at Eagle River Air Strip above the Arctic circle in the early fall of 1982.
Eagle River BLM camp
One of the foxes that visited our camp.
The big oil companies would unload a large number of containers on skids and several bulldozers on the beach near where they wanted to explore.
When the winter froze the ground hard enough a crew was flown into the supplies and the bulldozers would form a cat train dragging the bulky containers across the frozen tundra to where the exploration was to be done.
Once there, they would literally construct an airstrip capable of handling large aircraft (C-130s).
When Spring arrived a crew and supplies were flown into the airstrip.
Three or four exploratory wells were dug.
After the company finished, all the equipment was dismantled and flown out.
The large containers were left behind.
You can see on the right side of the airstrip apron in the picture above.
The pilot’s tent was set back a bit from the rest of the tents a bit closer to the large wooden container.
That is where I was when things began to happen
We had been seeing bears around the are for several days after we set up camp.
Normally, they were several hundered yards away.
We didn’t pay much attention to them.
Then one morning, one of the surveyors started yelling “Bear in Camp! Bear in Camp!”
Thinking that a bear was probably getting close to our campsite, I rolled off my cot and went outside to see what was going on.
(Not expecting trouble, I left the 12GA in the tent).
When I got outside I didn’t see anything so walked towards the big wooden box so I could see the field behind it.
I got to about 20 feet of it when a bear came around the corner and sat down.
(Dirty Harry would have been impressed with the draw from my shoulder holster)
The sudden movement was a mistake!
The bear perked up his ears and looked at me (Lunch?)
I became a statue.
Knowing that we had been issued a 375HH Magnum rifle for bear protection and there were more that a few shotguns with slugs in camp, I waited for my rescue.
And I waited, and I waited, and I waited… No rescue.
I slowly turned my head back to see why I was left on the edge of Yogie’s dinner plate and saw the entire camp about 15 yards behind me.
No guns, everyone had a damned camera…
“look at the bear, look at the bear”.
Finally one of the pilots fird up a helicopter and escorted brother bruin out of the area.
After it was over I grabbed one of the surveyors and demanded a copy of the pictures he took.
That is how I came to have this picture.
(It was fortunate that it was taken from behind so the stain didn’t show.)
That’s the story.
Steve
