08/24/2012

Here are a few thoughts about the hiker that was killed by a grizzly on the Toklat River on August 24: First, it is inaccurate to call the deceased a "photographer." He was a HIKER with a camera. That does not make him a "photographer." If owning a device that takes pictures makes a person a photographer, then every single visitor to the park then qualifies for the label. Serious photographers should be cautious about using this label.
He was using a Canon Rebel T3i, with 55-250mm lens, said the park information officer. The Chief Ranger believes that based on the types and quality of his photos, he was a backpacker with a camera, not a serious photographer.  The first images of the unsuspecting bear were taken from a distance of about 75 yards, according to the Chief Ranger, the last images were at about 60 yards, the bear now aware of, and looking at, the hiker. The images will not be released by the Park Service as the images are private property and the Park does not have the right to release them. What is dismaying is that much of the information concerning the photos comes from a bogus photo album that appeared on ABCs Good Morning America in the days following the attack. The bears in that photo album were stock images with no relationship whatsoever to the incident.
Next, here is possibly a little insight into the bear that killed the hiker from a former ranger:
"We saw a large male bear kill and eat a cub on the last stream coming off Highway Pass into Grant Creek on the 20th. He was the largest bear I've ever seen on the north side of the range in the park. When he attacked the cub, he ran full out for about 300 yards, hit the cub before the female was even aware he was there. On the 21st, he was staying around the same area, then we saw him head down towards the Toklat. From the description of the bear they killed at the hiker's body, we think it was the same bear we watched."
Recently, three large bears have been caught and weighed on the Toklat River. There is a salmon run downstream at the Toklat Springs, outside the old park boundary. These bears are unusually large because of fish as a food source. Bears normally are not that large inside the park. We do not know if the salmon run failed or not this year, but most of the Yukon-Tanana drainages were substandard runs.
The Park Service does not believe, however, that the bear that attacked the hiker is one and the same with the bear that killed the cub because the bear that was shot at the scene was NOT injured and bore no sign of wounds. Apparently the bear that killed the cubs, they say, was wounded by the attacking sow when she tried to protect her cub and had sustained noticeable, visible wounds. Private individuals dispute that assertion but I lean toward the park's analysis.
In addition, it is quite unusual to see large, male bears near the park road. Almost all the "usual suspects" that hang near the road and buses are juveniles or females with cubs, groups that tend to tolerate human activity better than mature males.
Next, my ex-ranger friend said he saw "abundant berries." I, and local berry picking fanatics, disagree, finding blueberries very scarce. Hunger may be one likely trigger for this attack.
I am sorry a bear was killed but I have great sympathy for the victim's family and 21-month-old daughter. The hiker was not an "idiot" or "fool" any more than all the other dozens of people who have done the same thing this summer without incident, or the hundreds over the years. Not long ago, for example, a female hiker had a bear actually sniff her boot and then walk away...her experienced companions having run off and leaving her alone!

I hope the park staff would take some comfort for the great bear awareness program developed here and the parks long safety record. Denali was key to developing bear-proof-food-containers that have become standard for wilderness users and saved dozens of lives of people and bears. Education and monitoring has greatly reduced negative bear/human encounters.
If  some on the park staff have erred, it is in trying to tie this thing up in a neat, understandable package with clear reasons. We do NOT know, and will never know, what happened between the time the hiker stopped taking pictures and the time when the actual attack occurred. We can NOT explain human aberrant behavior, why then should we be able to explain anomalies like this event? I call this a sad tragedy and accident, and for me, that is all that is necessary

05/23/2011

The number one question I get is a variation of "when is the best time to photograph bears." In Alaska, the answer always could be a flippant, "anytime between May and mid-October. The rest of the year the state's 35,000, or so, bears are hibernating." The full and complete answer would take more space than available here but if your desire is to photograph females with cubs, the best time is early spring, which often means JUNE in Alaska and that varies depending on location. Emergence of spring plants has a great deal to do with the visibility and distribution of bears. Females with new cubs, called spring cubs, are the last to emerge from the den, as late as early May in some cases. In the alpine tundra areas along the Denali National Park road, for example, spring growth is just now making an appearance along with the first wildflowers. Several females with older cubs have already been seen but females with spring cubs remain scarce. As plant growth erupts with warming weather, the females with spring cubs will become more visible, yet remain much warier than the more mature family groups. (Horsetail is a favorite spring edible.) Down on the Alaska Peninsula, June is a great month for photographing bears with cubs. Along the coast, as the sedges quickly green up, hungry bears congregate on the tideflats to gobble the new growth. At the end  of June, in places like the McNeil River Sanctuary, the first red salmon of the year migrate up Mikfik Creek and these first salmon are avidly targeted by family groups and big males as well. (May and June is breeding season and lone females attract big males.) Females with spring cubs avoid these big, dangerous males. In my opinion, June is the best month for photographing bears with cubs even though these families can be seen all summer long. Remember, even though bears gather for the peak salmon runs in July, their coats are often scraggly and ragged in the summer heat.

09/01/2010

May 19. A furtive movement in the brush. A shadow of gray and tan flowing toward and into a dense tangle of branches at the base of a blowdown. After its passage, a ripple of fur flutters on a twig. Through binoculars the yellow eyes burn through the shadows, through the slight opening in the jumble. The warning implicit, direct. The feral response of a protective mother. I have no intention of going closer but content myself with the sounds of mewling kittens. (Notes: the first lynx den I have ever found.)

May 16. Gone now the days of darkness and cold, a time of fear and testing for the earth people. Now the time of perpetual light, a time when we stride confidently across the earth, but the wise ever mindful of the great bears and mosquitoes. We call the earth people, the ancient ones, primitive and uncivilized, but how many modern people could live on the land, as  they did, and last more than a day or two.

May 5. Under the earth, great beasts are stirring. They shrug and stretch and ease the cramp in gut and limbs. The biggest, the strongest, claw at the loosened soil, up through the damp, cold earth and lever themselves out through the receding spring snow cover and into the nascent spring. The grizzlies blink in the bright light and take their first steps into the day, into their world, into our world.

May 3. The passions aroused by wolves can not be dispelled by "science" or reason. Human response is more visceral, emotional, stemming from bygone epics when dirty, hairy, fur-clad people hunkered in dark caves around pitiful fires, clinging with sweaty palms to their cudgels and spears while listening to terrifying night sounds, the footfalls of dire wolves, cave bears, and sabre-toothed cats.

04/19/2012

This winter has been the start of the upswing in solar activity. Next winter is supposed to be the year of "solar maximum" with sunspot activity at a peak with great auroras already forecast. This winter was better than any in the last five and I got some great shots. Although the season is about over in Alaska due to limited darkness, I have a few tips to pass on:

1) Infinity Focus. Some people I shot with had trouble bumping their lens out of focus. You must use MANUAL focus for the aurora and it is easy to forget in the excitement and shoot with the lens out of focus. I suggest that you set your camera to infinity before dark and use some electrician tape to tape the lens barrel so that it can not move. Just a little tape works well and is easy to remove.

2) Do not use in-camera noise reduction. Although this feature can be nice, it grealy slows up shooting. In fact doubles the time per image capture. Noise reduction is best during raw processing. Nothing like the helpless feeling of missing great auroral action as you wait for the camera to process the image.

3) Shoot fast! Use high ISO's. This winter I shot moslty at 1000 ISO and got some great images with exposure times as slow as 4 seconds. Noise was not a problem with my Nikon.

4) Batteries! Plural. Carry several and keep extras in your pocket, warm and ready to go. The cold saps power fast, especially with long shutter speeds.

5) f8 and be there. SO true. You have got to stay up all night if you want aurora images. Some fantastic auroral storms may only last 15 minutes or less. By the time you get outside they can be over, the night sky again calm. The aurora photographer's secret weapon - caffeine.

Good shooting.

03/02/2011

MARCH 19, 1990. In the darkness, at the hour of false dawn, silhouettes of distant mountain peaks separate from the night as the faint light snuffs out the stars and recaptures the sky. Blue washes the horizon, revealing a landscape of snow-drowned thickets, forest, muskeg, and meandering river surrounded by the crenellated summits.    
    From the cabin window I can look across the Nenana River and into the park. Soon the light will be strong enough for me to see through the spotting scope the herd of caribou wandering the ridge above Triple Lakes, their many trails spreading through the snow like fissures in ice.
    What strikes me most about late winter, now that the worst days of cold and darkness are behind us, is its color. On a clear morning like this one, night surrenders in pastel hues of claret, ruby, gold, even jade. The peaks and ridges to the west will awaken in a crimson wash of alpenglow, of sherbet colors you can almost taste. Each evening the process is reversed, but the colors are no less intense.
    Midday on the tundra, the sun blasts off the ice and snow with an intensity that can blind. Except for the trees and brush that rise above the snow, the land suffocates under a white blanket. Earlier in winter, there seemed little hope of ever seeing the sun again or feeling its warmth; now the strengthening, though still feeble, solar heat is almost shocking. Soon the snow will fade and disappear. For animals and humans alike, it is none too soon.

MARCH 21, 1990. The vernal equinox dawned clear and calm. This is the day the sun transits the equator, with night and day of equal length. Banished is the typical day of winter: in the extreme, nineteen hours of darkness and five hours of dawn.
    Just after nine P.M. and after full dark, I stepped out on the cabin porch and looked up. A brilliant aurora washed the sky, sweeping away my sleepy yawns. I rushed back inside. Soon, dressed in parka and snow pants, I snow shoed to a point on the ridge overlooking the valley of the confluence of the Yanert and Nenana rivers. Diaphanous green auroral bands spanned the horizon from Mount Healy to Mount Deborah. Broad vertical brush strokes rained light on Mount Fellows turning its summit into a phantom tiara.
    In the maturing night, the colors died one place, only to flash alive somewhere else, at times silhouetting the peaks. Three brilliant green bands tinged with yellow and pink appeared simultaneously. When they faded away, a faint crimson blush began to glow in the east and west. For perhaps over an hour the glow intensified, and I watched as if witnessing an approaching fireball. Sometime after midnight the crimson cloud billowed across the sky, obscuring faint stars. To the west, where Orion guarded Denali with brandished sword, two coyotes yip-yapped into the night, heralds of the first hours of spring.

MARCH 22, 2008. The boreal owl has been calling nightly from the timber near the cabin. Almost all night long except for a few long pauses. Last winter, when it was this cold, an ornithologist in Fairbanks said that these tiny owls didnt call much when it is colder then minus twenty. Well, it is minus thirty-four, and it seems undaunted.