I’ve had a canister of bear pepper spray for a long time and fortunately have never used it. Before replacing it with a new one, I decided to see what kind of spray range it retained. It functioned surprisingly well, although I did not test the efficacy of the solution. The new one came with a smaller holster which I decided to use thinking I’d save space and a little weight. The old one had a velcro cover, the new holster had a little elastic strap that stretched over the protective cap of the canister. Using the new holster was mistake number one, and there were a few to follow…

One day while camping in the Utukok Uplands of northwest Alaska, I had prepared all of my gear for the daily/evening photo trek. This consisted of loading my Kiboko camera bag with two cameras, lenses, extra clothes, water, a little food, tripod, and pepper spray, which sat accessible in the left hand exterior elastic side-pouch of the camera bag (If you have been following this blog, you have read about my reach for that canister during a grizzly bear encounter).  Just before departing camp, I found the view looking through my tent doors interesting and bent down to take a photo. I unzipped the tent door and  leaned in to get a better angle, and like the standard process of composing a photo, kept changing views slightly, leaning further into my tent in order to frame the view outward appropriately. That’s when I heard a hiss, which was not my thermarest decompressing. In a weird but perfectly positioned series of movements, the tent door fabric got hung up on the pepper spray safety cap, pulled it off when I leaned in, and then discharged a spray. That little spray ejected me my from the tent in a heartbeat. Half wondering what happened and half realizing what happened and wondering how bad it would be. If you have had a similar experience, you might be smiling…or not. My face was burning and my nose and nostrils were steaming.

After quickly removing my contaminated clothes, I went about cleaning the tent and my camera bag with soap and water. I was on a super-hydration plan, and the need to relieve myself was growing irresistible, and that was mistake number two, or three, or whatever. That experience provoked hands free peeing for a few days, for fear of a repeat experience. I ended up doing a quick and not completely efficient bath in a nearby tussock puddle. Cold water does not lather well with soap.

In summary, I thought I’d share a little field advice about pepper spray. First of all, DO NOT use the cheap holsters. Use the ones that have a complete velcro wrap that covers the top of the canister.  See the photos below for comparison.

Second, get a canister that has a large volume of contents. Strong winds can introduce some challenges using the spray, and having a little extra won’t hurt. If the wind is blowing strongly toward you, you might weigh the odds of using the spray and try something else as a deterrent like a fog horn in a can. I have not used the spray on a bear yet, but if I do, I’ll try my best to hold off  until the bear gets good and close enough for an accurate shot. One guy I spoke with last summer had an encounter with a bear in the Brooks range and was able to fend it off with spray, but only after it chewed on his leg for a bit. It took him a while to overcome the psycho issues, but is back hiking again and carries two canisters of spray on his longer trips.

Interestingly, after my own bear spray experience, I’ve talked with two other people who have been sprayed by pepper spray, and in both cases it was because of a poor cover on the canister, and accidentally triggered.

This last June marked my second visit to the National Petroleum Reserve – Alaska, a monstrous 23 million acre area on Alaska’s north slope. It was originally set aside by president Harding as an emergency oil supply for the US Navy.  The average person knows little about the region, and it is huge. Some consider it a large wasteland full of mosquitoes. Well, the mosquitoes love the place (at least for a month or two), but there is much more going on there. There are many stories I could tell about my recent trip in June, but it is time to move on to other subjects and I’ll leave behind this gallery for casual browsing. The photos were all taken in the Utukok river uplands region, which is referenced on a map on a previous post.

A photographer’s schedule in June, in the arctic, is a complete function of weather and daylight. The blue cloudless skies become a curse, at least until about midnight when the warm wash of light drips across the landscape, and even then, some sort of cloud action helps grab some color in the sky. I unfortunately had too much clear weather during my trip to the National Petroleum Reserve Alaska last June, if one can squeak out such a complaint. My schedule was inverted from my normal early morning routine, and I found myself often going to bed about the time I usually wake up. Below are a few shots taken from Archimedes ridge, a great expansive platform that gives views for miles around, and easy ground for covering miles on foot.

My blogging has been slim due to a 12 day river trip in the arctic, and now with time in the office I can play catch up on a few stories and photos worth sharing of my recent ventures….

Utukok Uplands, National Petroleum Reserve Alaska.

While treading the homeland of grizzly bears, a shrewd and methodical behavior is advised. This is all the more true if you are alone, as the statistics for human/bear encounters are considerably decreased when group size exceeds the solitary wanderer. For these reasons, and the fact that I like my life, made my senses keen to the heavily grizzly bear populated area of the Utukok uplands on my June photo trip.

I was fortunate to catch the tail end of the western arctic caribou migration, and watched a group of a few thousand animals pass through my camp.

On the following evening, I hiked about 7 miles west in search for the group, which I found grazing on the tundra slopes in the shadows of evening summer sunshine. But I was not the only creature looking for caribou. The bears and wolves are also keen on finding the animals, in particular the young calves, which were approximately one week old at the time. While watching the group from about 3/4 mile away, they appeared startled and began to run. With a closer look, I noticed two grizzly bears chasing them at the lower end of the valley. Good news and bad news. Good news because moving caribou are more interesting to photograph,  bad news because they were moving away from me and the presence of bears made me nervous. They ran quickly leaving the sow grizzly and her two year cub alone on the tundra.  I began running up to the ridge and after the caribou, with hopes of getting closer if they chose to crest the top. They moved quite some distance, across to the next valley, and while I have been training to run a portion of an autumn marathon in Fairbanks, I’m no match for caribou cruising the tundra. They finally slowed down and began grazing again and I was able to gain some distance on them, keeping myself out of sight by walking just on the opposite side of the ridge in which they were approaching. All of a sudden I saw an ear and heard the grunts of a cow and calf, and immediately crouched low on the ground. The herd was cresting the hill right in front of me. I froze while the first few animals crossed and stared at me, but continued walking. I started clicking frames off. The shots were nothing to compare with the experience-see below.

When they were about 30 feet away, one spooked, and the whole herd bolted, like herd animals do when one sounds the alarm. Back they went on the other side of the ridge, and ran off to the west. I stood up to photograph their departure. That’s when I realized why they suddenly decided to crest the hill. A lone grizzly bear was loping right at me, the only one left standing after a herd of caribou dashed away speedily. The bear probably thought about his good fortune of one injured one left behind. The bear was in the golden light of evening, and I was fraught with the duplicitous mind of oh sh#!, and that would be a great shot! I had two cameras around my neck, a full backpack, and hands quickly retrieving the pepper spray in the side pouch of my camera bag. The thing to do in a situation like this, besides wondering what your eulogy would be, is not to run–as if I had anywhere to go anyway, and hold the ground. The bear came to about 30 feet from me and stopped, turned broadside, drooled, and I took a few shots one handed with my pepper spray in the other hand.

I noticed it was a relatively young bear, thankfully–they just seem a little less threatening than the big old scarred ones. After a brief moment, the bear realized I was not on his dinner palate and ran off along the ridge. I was left standing in the golden arctic sunshine at 1:50 AM on summer solstice, overlooking the vast arctic domain in 360 degrees, saying to myself with a healthy dose of relief, “wow”. It seemed like a good time to head back to camp, which was in the opposite direction, and I photographed along the way, crawling in my sleeping bag about 5:00 AM, after sipping lightly on a special flask laying by my pillow.

There is much to write about regarding my late June trip to the arctic, and little time to do so due to another scheduled  photo trip in which I’ll float a river out of the Brooks range in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. More about that upon my return. Looking back on the last week, the region I visited is little known, and the map below will give some reference for those not familiar with the National Petroleum Reserve Alaska, and its expansive acreage.

I was in the Uplands of the Utukok river, which flows north into the Arctic Ocean, just north of Point Lay, Alaska (beginning just west of the Coleville river). Access is by bush plane, and I flew with Coyote Air, out of Coldfoot, Alaska. That’s a long 2.5 hour flight across the Brooks range, which in itself is an experience to humble the proudest soul on the planet, unless they are inert to the power of all organic matter. The views are epic, and silence in the viewing is common for the first time visitor.

I was dropped off on a ridge that separates the Utukok from the Kokolik rivers, in an east to west orientation. At 1800 ft., it might not sound high, but for the edge of the arctic north slope, that is about the highest ridge in the area, and I had a 360 degree view for hundreds of miles in all directions. No trees, no setting sun, voracious winds, and a geographic solitude of an uncommon order. Alone on a ridge, my very skillful pilot (Dirk Nickish) left me and buzzed off into the distance, vanishing slowly as I photographed the departure. Shortly after, I realized that 90% of my food in a bear proof barrel also vanished into the distance, forgotten in the cab of the airplane (for those unfamiliar with camping in bear country, a bear-proof container to secure your food is essential for a host of obvious reasons).  Hmmm….. I began a mental rationing plan of the small amount of food I had in a stuff sack, considering although I would be hungry and might lose a few pounds, I could survive. At the same time, I knew Dirk would find the barrel when dropping off the other passengers going further east. But… Doing an air drop or landing again with a back-haul plane load of six people was going to be a challenge. I knew he would not land up there with a full load. Within an hour or so, I heard his plane again, and he circled once, came around very low and very slow, and suddenly out of the other side of the plane, out popped the bear barrel, bounced on the tundra and tumbled vigorously until stopping (all in one piece), upon which I happily ran to secure it. Dirk tipped a wing and flew off again into the distance. Dirk, you are awesome!

I set up base camp, from which I made daily hiking forays, both east and west looking for photographic subjects. I averaged about 15-18 miles a day, schlepping 35 lbs of camera gear across the ridge and tundra as the big ball of fire in the sky whirled around me in a subtle but consistent torment. Harsh daylight shifted my photography schedule to the 10pm to 5am period. It is difficult to put the odd blend of loneliness, solitude, fear, invigoration, and magnificence of landscape into words. It’s an encounter. A wonderful one mixed with many feelings and a very primordial connection with the land. Native Alaskans roamed this part of the earth as long as 12,000 years ago, according to archaeological evidence found at the Mesa Site, not too far from the Utukok Uplands.

I watched the wind’s furry in the tenacious flowering tundra, abundant and vocal nesting birds, migrating caribou, ground squirrels, marmots, and last but not least…way too many grizzly bears. And speaking of the latter, I’ll write about my stand off with a grizzly bear on the ridge top in an upcoming post. That was just plain scary.

Below are a few photos of the area. I’ll be posting more from my trip over the next week or so.

My trip to the high western arctic unfolded broadly under the never setting sun. With a short turn around between another venture back to the arctic for a river trip, I’ll have some photos to share but little time to write. The birds nesting in the tundra region were continual companions in a very solitary and remote place. Strong winds, relentless sun, and the magic of this paradoxical land of severity and beauty, along with lots of hiking left some good photographs in the wake. The plovers were abundant and vociferous, and their comfort zone for approach was about 1000mm. I took this shot about 10:00pm, which, believe it or not was pretty early. Due to harsh light I ended up shooting primarily between 10:00pm and 5:00am.

Near the confluence of the Nigu and Etivluk river, is Puvakrat mountain, a notable ridge with a rocky spine, great for hiking and splendid views. We began a day hike in rainy and cloudy conditions, but mixed blue skies and dramatic clouds and light spilled across the grand vista as evening progressed.  The sky in the open wilderness of the arctic seems so large and luminous, and it often serves as moving photographic element, both in respect to compostiona and for the provocation of emotion. Here are  few shots from the day.

On our 10 day river trip along the Nigu and Etivluk, we saw two grizzly bears, both of which upon noticing us, took off across the tundra. This is the kind of reaction one likes to see when encountering a bear in the wild. Well, sort of. Photographing bears in the arctic is quite unlike photographing bears in regions of Alaska where strong habituation to humans has been in place for some time–i.e., locations like Denali Park, Katmai Brooks, and a few others. In the arctic, where human presence is scant, when a wild bear either sees or catches scent of a human, they are off running (often anyway). In this case, we spotted the bear from a distance, walking adjacent to the river. We pulled over,  sat still,  and quietly waited with cameras ready. After grabbing a few frames, the bear saw us and split. At 400mm, it is still a decent shot of a wild bear. I did not have the time, nor was the situation optimal for getting my 500mm out of the dry bag.

This little Red-necked phalarope, with its elegant presence, is the only shorebird that swims on the water. There were many nesting pairs along the same lake that the pair of Pacific loons were on. I usually see this bird in south central Alaska during the spring migration, and often see them in large flocks. So it was particularly interesting to see them at their summer breeding destination in the high arctic. This frame has a few distracting blades of grass, but not bad for a quick shot in very swampy, unstable conditions using a long lens. I was forced to stay somewhat high, at least high enough to avoid further obstruction by the grasses and sedges.

Is there ever really enough time? To get the right shot, to get the right light, heck, for life in general. So much to see and so much to do.  In this particular instance, our two canoes were all packed up and it was time to hit the river for a day of paddling, with needed distance to be gained to meet our deadline. A quick photo excursion on the tundra by one of our party for some shots of the Lapland longspur, brought back news of this loon on a nearby tundra pond. Hmmm, thought my canoe partner and I, there is no way we are leaving without taking a look. So, we unpacked gear and trudged off to see. Loons are a beautiful bird, striking in markings and vocals. At first, we thought this might be an Arctic loon, but upon closer look, it is confirmed a Pacific loon.

Now if you are a photographer, you can imagine what this scene might look like under the golden midnight light of Alaska’s arctic summer. It was taken at 1:30pm, nearly the hottest light of the day. But, alas, we did not have time to spend another day at this campsite. It just confirms that a glace across the tundra, with a few distant ponds here and there, really hold an amazing little circle of life know upon closer observation.

What is remarkable to me is that I took this shot with a 1000mm focal length, manual focus, on a tiny tripod, which was sunk in the water at least a foot or two, as I was knee high in swamp grass. It is remarkably sharp, a testament to that Canon 500mm f/4IS, which is hard to leave home without!