A Grizzly Mama in Khutze Inlet, July 29, 2014

I wake up early to the sound of raindrops pattering on the plexi hatchcover just above the bed. Another rainy day in Khutze Inlet anchorage. Patrick has already suited up in his off-shore foul weather gear and taken the dinghy out to brave the rain in pursuit of our dinner. The Dungeness crab are many and quite large in Khutze Inlet, and with Patrick's skill and a little luck, we'll dine well tonight. I crawl out from under the warm covers, trying not to disturb Simon and Jake, who have each nested next to me, one under my arm against my side, and the other in the crook of my knees. I attempt to minimize jostling and they are instantly asleep again. It's time to get dressed and get out there to look for bears on shore.

Still in my flannel pajamas, I step into my sea boots, pull on my rain slicker and make my way out to Tenacious's rain-soaked teak deck, Binoculars in hand, I scan the shoreline near the waterfall to find Patrick. He is in the dinghy near the base of the falls where the big crab gather on a rising tide. There are at least half a dozen bald eagles nearby, watching him, some with the white head and tail of mature eagles, and several with the speckled brown feathers of youngsters. A couple of them seem to be having a minor argument over a scrap of fish. Another one is trying to dry his wings, reminding me of our Florida anhingas.

From the deck I scan the bay and shoreline. Between the raindrops my binocs pick up a number of harbor seals patrolling for fish, squabbling sea gulls chasing after a school of small fish and other sea birds with rain running off their feathered backs. It's just after low tide and the mud flats are wide and studded with ancient stumps, boulders and stray logs. Just behind the flats is a tidal estuary that goes on for miles, with sedge grass, clumps of trees and meadows full of wildflowers. In the distance is a mountain range, snow fields still capping several of the peaks.

Long, low ribbons of fog stream up the estuary as if powered by invisible breath. I train the binoculars along a point of muddy land that runs along the river outlet. Out of the mist I see movement. A ray of sunlight illuminates golden fur. I have spotted a grizzly bear, walking out of the fog toward the water. I can't move. I watch in awe as she calmly lumbers  toward me, when I see something moving behind her. One, two and then

three cubs are following in her giant footsteps. I grab the video camera, eager to capture their images before they move on. They seem content to linger on the flats, so I radio Patrick with the news of a grizzly sighting. He hurries back to the mother ship while I throw on jeans and waterproof sea pants. The bears will just have to see me in my
pajama top...there is no time for more.

We move nearer the bears as quietly as we can. They forage along the flats for a while, then  move up into the sedge grass to graze. The mama bear uses her paw to pull clumps of the rich, wet grass to her mouth. Mouthful after mouthful finds its way to her powerful jaws. Her cinnamon-colored fur is wet, but thick and lush. She is healthy and strong.

The cubs trundle along behind her. They are grazing too, but they are so small that often we can only catch a glimpse of little ears sticking up above the tall growth. Patrick uses a paddle to pole us along the shallows near the bears. As the morning advances, the fog dissipates. We watch them move and graze for more than an hour before they amble off deeper into the estuary. We leave them on their own. It is a magical day for us.