Great Bear Rainforest

by Patti Wheeler

  My hair stood on end as Alu stepped quietly toward the den. Approaching a dark opening in the rocks where a giant grizzly might jump out and tear you apart didn’t seem like a smart move, but I envied Alu’s bravery.

  She stood at the entrance, placed her hand on the rock and slowly leaned inside to take a look. Again, my heart was racing. Then, without warning, she disappeared into the darkness.

  I looked back at Gannon and my parents. Their eyes were as wide as saucers. I’m sure we were all wondering the same thing: “Are we about to witness a grizzly attack?”

  She was probably inside no more than sixty seconds, but it seemed like hours. I moved closer to the rocks and listened for sounds coming from inside the den. I almost expected to hear a cry for help.

  When Alu emerged from the den, she appeared deep in thought. She took a moment before she said anything, staring off into the distance, as if quietly trying to solve a riddle.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Unfortunately, this family did not make it through the winter,” she said, her voice grim.

  “What do you mean?” Gannon asked.

  “A mother and two cubs,” she said, “they died.”

  “How?” Gannon asked.

  “Starvation.”

  “How could that happen?” I asked.

  “Salmon are the primary food source for many species including bears,” Alu continued. “But the salmon numbers were so low last year they weren’t able to eat enough to make it through the winter. There are even fewer salmon this year. I’m afraid more bears and many other animals that depend on the salmon for food may die, as well.”

  “Can we see them?” Gannon asked.

  “Of course,” Alu said. “Follow me.”

  Alu led us into the dark, damp confines of the den. There was a terrible stench inside that made it difficult to breathe. I pulled my jacket up over my nose, which helped a little. At first, it was impossible to see anything. We all just stood there, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the darkness, knowing that a family of grizzlies lay at our feet. In time, I could make out the large, arching back of the mother. At its highest point, her back measured to my waist—and she was lying down. This was a massive grizzly! Probably close to eight-feet tall if she stood on her hind legs. I couldn’t imagine that this creature, so peaceful looking there in the den, had ever possessed the ferociousness that I’d read so much about.

  The cubs were tiny clones of their mother. They had already lost much of their fur and their hipbones and ribs were visible through their pale skin. Otherwise, it looked as if they were still hibernating. Enjoying a prolonged sleep while they waited for the warmth of spring.

  I keep wondering why the salmon numbers have declined so significantly over the past two years. Could it be that the offshore fishermen are catching too many of them? Overfishing has decimated fish populations in other areas of the world. Is it now happening in British Columbia?

  I’m anxious to talk to Dr. Brezner when we return to the ship. I’m sure that he’ll have an explanation.

  GANNON

  DINNERTIME

  MOOD: IMPROVING

  A sight for sore eyes … the Pacific Yellowfin

  I can’t put into words how good it feels to be back aboard the Pacific Yellowfin. This day has been exhausting, to say the least, and I’ve been really upset since we found those poor grizzlies in their den, but there is something about Captain Colin and his ship that make me feel like everything is going to be all right.

  After cleaning up, we all gathered in the galley where Joe served us a pot of seafood stew that smelled so good it made my mouth water. Steam rose from the soup as he poured it into our bowls. It was full of shrimp and scallops and mussels, all of it swimming in a spicy red sauce. After a day eating nothing but trail mix and beef jerky, I was so hungry the sole of a shoe would have tasted good. So, needless to say, the stew did not disappoint.

  To cheer us up even more, Captain Colin came strolling into the galley after dinner with a guitar under his arm.

  “Does anyone mind if I strum a few tunes?” he asked.

  “We’d love it,” my mom said.

  “Great. Everyone feel free to sing along.”

  Now, I’m no concert vocalist by any stretch, but I definitely enjoy belting out a tune every now and again. My favorite from the captain’s playlist was, “The Whistling Gypsy,” which I sang with gusto:

  “Gypsy rover, come over the hill,

  down through the valley so shady.

  He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang

  and he won the heart of a lady!”

  My parents got up and danced around the galley and Alu tapped out a drumbeat atop the table. Wyatt even joined in, singing off-key backup vocals when he knew the words, and even when he didn’t.

  After the sing-along, we said good-bye to Alu and she told us that we would see her again in a couple days on Princess Royal Island, where we would spend time searching for the spirit bear. I mean, after all we’ve been through today, setting off into the woods to look for bears again should be the last thing I want to do, but I can’t help but get excited by the possibility of seeing this rare and magnificent animal.

  WYATT

  11:02 PM

  After Liam and Alu boarded the tender and drove into the darkness toward Alu’s home in Hartley Bay, I saw Dr. Brezner walking across the aft cockpit.

  “Hello, Dr. Brezner,” I said timidly as I approached.

  “Hi there, Wyatt,” he said. “How was your bear viewing excursion?”

  “Well, about that,” I said, “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple quick questions.”

  Dr. Brezner took a glance at his watch.

  “Okay,” he said, “I have a few minutes.”

  “I don’t know if you heard, but we found a mother grizzly and two cubs dead in their den.”

  “No, I’ve been working in my cabin all day and didn’t hear anything about it,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Alu believes they starved to death because there weren’t enough salmon to eat. Even today, there were very few in the stream. Alu said there are usually thousands. I was wondering if you knew what might cause such a drastic decline in the salmon population.”

  Dr. Brezner gave me an inquisitive look, as if he had been caught off guard.

  “Do you have any scientific data supporting your claim that the salmon population has declined?”

  “Well, no. It was just an observation Alu made today.”

  “Wyatt,” he said, “Alu is not a scientist. An observation is only a starting point that may lead one to conduct further research. By no means should a single observation be used to conclude that something is fact.”

  True, Doctor Brezner was correct in some ways. There are rules to follow and many steps involved in determining that something is scientific fact. However, anyone with a curiosity for the environment must consider the beliefs and intuition of the native people. Members of the First Nation do not need to form a hypothesis or collect thousands of pages of scientific data to support their beliefs. They have 10,000 years of history in the area. Their knowledge comes from experience and is passed down from generation to generation. When they feel something is wrong, it usually is.

  “I understand,” I said, “but Alu has lived in the forest her whole life. She knows this ecosystem as well as anyone. Something isn’t right. She said the salmon numbers were down last year, too. There could be a new disease that’s reducing the population or maybe something has changed in the water, or maybe it’s the result of overfishing. There has to be a reason why so many of the salmon are not making it back to spawn. You know as well as I that salmon are a keystone species. The bears and many other species depend on them for their survival. I thought maybe you could look into it while you’re doing research on Princess Royal Island.”

  Dr. Brezner placed his hand on my shoulder.

  “Let me explain something to you, Wyatt,” he said calmly. “Change is part of
nature. Just because someone observes a recurring event over several years, or decades even, doesn’t mean that this event will continue indefinitely into the future. Things are always changing. Glaciers advance and retreat. Species go extinct. Others adapt. This is part of the earth’s natural evolution, and it applies to all things.”

  “Then you’re not concerned about the salmon?” I asked.

  “Again, you’re speaking of one stream out of hundreds that flow through these coastal mountains. Until you’ve studied a larger sample, and done so thoroughly, you have no way of knowing whether or not there is a problem.”

  Based on Alu’s concern, I had been certain that there was a problem, a problem that needed to be brought to the doctor’s attention. But after speaking with him, I feel foolish having even brought it up.

  He could tell I was embarrassed and patted me on the back.

  “You know, Wyatt,” he said, “you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age.”

  “I do?”

  “Absolutely. You’re curious about the environment and how it works, just like I was. You have a love of nature and are concerned by the things you feel may be a threat.”

  I nodded my head, soaking up his praise.

  “At your age, I was concerned, too.” He chuckled. “I still am, of course. But you must understand, nature is resilient. Despite all we humans do to disrupt the environment, nature has the ability to sort things out. It is more powerful than us. In the end, nature will always prevail.”

  These statements seemed to contradict a life’s work protecting nature, but even so, hearing this explanation from a scientist of his stature did comfort me. Not that I’ve totally dismissed Alu’s belief that something is amiss, but if Dr. Brezner feels the decline in salmon is nothing to be concerned about, that nature will ultimately take care of itself, who am I to argue?

  “Thanks for your insight, Dr. Brezner,” I said. “I really appreciate your time.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “It’s inspiring to see a young man with your passion. You are inquisitive and bright. Keep it up and you will accomplish great things.”

  It’s much later now as I sit and write by lamplight in my cabin, but after that compliment from Dr. Brezner, falling asleep would be impossible. I’m on top of the world! I don’t know what to do with myself. Maybe I’ll reread his essay on environmental toxicology and then try to catch some shut-eye.

  More tomorrow …

  GANNON

  WAY TOO EARLY

  MOOD: IRRITABLE

  It seemed I had just fallen asleep when Captain Colin woke me up.

  “All hands on deck!” he hollered from the galley. “Breakfast is served!”

  “I’m not hungry!” I shouted back, pulling the covers up over my head.

  “Hungry or not, I need you up here on the double!”

  Still in my clothes from the night before, I rolled out of bed and climbed the ladder to the galley. They had put out a big spread of hot food for us and I filled my plate with scrambled eggs and bacon and potatoes and a few slices of buttered toast. The smell of fresh coffee was in the air and I’m no coffee drinker, but this morning I thought seriously about becoming one.

  “In a few hours, I’m going ashore with Dr. Brezner,” the captain said. “While I’m gone, I’ll need you and Wyatt to assist Liam with a few tasks.”

  “Oh, goodie,” I said.

  “We’d be happy to,” Wyatt said.

  Boy, Wyatt can be a real butt kisser sometimes.

  “The bow could use a good scrubbing,” he said. “The galley, as well. Liam will show you where we keep the mops.”

  “What does this have to do with finding a spirit bear?” I asked.

  “Every sailor aboard my ship must earn his keep. Besides, chores are an important part of a young man’s upbringing. They help build character.”

  “Oh, jeez. You sound just like my parents,” I said.

  Liam had an ear-to-ear grin, and why wouldn’t he? Looks like we’ll be doing his dirty work. Normally, I’d be frustrated to no end. I think I’ve made it pretty clear just how much I dislike chores, but even though I hate to admit it, the captain is right. We need to earn our keep. After all, this isn’t some kind of a leisure cruise where you loaf around all day drinking fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. We’re in the midst of a great exploration! And during any exploration you have to do whatever is necessary to make sure that your mission is successful. Even if it means tending to chores.

  Argh, chores! I can’t seem to escape them!

  WYATT

  SEPTEMBER 20, 11:24 AM

  BETWEEN PRINCESS ROYAL AND GRIBBELL ISLANDS

  53° 18′ N 128° 59′ W

  5° CELSIUS, 59° FAHRENHEIT

  CLOUDY SKIES, SLIGHT WIND

  Mid-morning, we dropped anchor approximately one-half mile off the north coast of Princess Royal Island, and Captain Colin and Dr. Brezner prepared to go ashore. I watched as several pieces of scientific equipment were packed for the journey. Included were two computers, a GPS system, radios, an antenna, journals, and a couple other devices I could not identify. Dr. Brezner appeared to be in a hurry, quickly packing his equipment into hard-shell, waterproof cases.

  “Good luck with your research, Doctor,” I said. “I hope you find a spirit bear.”

  “Yes,” he said, looking up to me as he continued to pack. “A spirit bear. I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

  I had a hundred questions to ask him, but decided it was best that I wait until he returned from the day’s expedition.

  The captain took a radio and a survival pack with a first-aid kit, matches, a Swiss Army knife and a flare gun for signaling the ship in the event of an emergency. (I take inventory of these sorts of things. It’s the best way to learn).

  “We must be going,” Dr. Brezner said to the captain, impatiently. “Time is of the essence.”

  With the tender loaded, the captain started the engine, filling the air with the scent of gasoline. Tipping his hat to Joe and Liam, he put the motor in reverse and backed the tender away from the ship.

  “Gannon and Wyatt,” he yelled, “when I get back I want the ship looking as good as the day she first came out of the boatyard!”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” I said, enthusiastically.

  As the captain steered the tender toward the island, I noticed for the first time a storm building over the ocean. The sky had no distinct clouds, just shades of gray, soft overhead and becoming darker and darker to the point that it was almost black on the western horizon.

  “There’s a big storm coming in, Captain,” I yelled, as if he hadn’t noticed himself.

  “We’re in a rainforest!” he hollered back with a smile. “There’s always a storm coming in!”

  “Yeah, but this one looks pretty nasty!” Gannon yelled.

  “There isn’t a captain on the seven seas who knows the waters and weather patterns of the Great Bear better than yours truly! I could navigate this island with my eyes closed! Don’t you worry about us! We’ll be just fine!”

  I leaned on the cold railings and watched as the boat trolled through the rolling waters toward the mountainous, fog-shrouded wilds of Princess Royal Island.

  “Heads up!” Liam yelled.

  I turned just in time to catch the mop he had thrown at me.

  “You may as well get started,” he said. “We’ve got lots of work to do.”

  “Aye-aye,” I said, this time with far less enthusiasm.

  GANNON

  Okay, chores are bad, regardless, but here’s something I just realized, there are levels of bad—let’s say 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst chores of all. Now, chores aboard a ship that’s rocking back and forth in rough seas are a flat out 11. If I don’t get my sea legs soon that big, hearty breakfast I ate this morning may get tossed overboard, if you know what I mean.

  WYATT

  2:01 PM

  I had been mopping for what seemed like days when Gannon yelled from across the bow.

>   “Whale off the port side!”

  I dropped my mop and ran to the edge of the ship, looking out over the water. I didn’t see anything.

  “You sure it was a whale?” I asked.

  “Well, it was either a whale or a seal the size of a school bus,” Gannon said.

  Suddenly, thousands of bubbles floated to the surface. There were definitely whales below us. I ran inside and grabbed my camera. As soon as I returned, an enormous humpback surfaced for air only feet from the ship. It was grayish-black, with a small dorsal fin. Before its blowhole dropped below the water, it blew a mist as foul as anything I’ve ever smelled. If you can imagine rotten fish wrapped in dirty gym socks and stuffed in a locker for a couple years, whale mist is slightly worse.

  “Oh, that’s disgusting,” Gannon said, covering his nose with his hand.

  The tail of a humpback whale

  There were four or five humpbacks swimming together. I snapped several photos, as these 40-ton mammals came up for a breath time and again. When their slimy backs broke the surface, they looked like giant serpents slithering through the water. Soon after the dorsal fins rolled back underwater, their tails came up. The undersides of their tails were white and crusted with barnacles. A waterfall would cascade from the tail and then they were gone, a bubbling pocket of water the only evidence they had been there.

  “The storm is coming in fast,” Liam suddenly yelled from the bridge, pointing west. “You can finish cleaning the bow later. There’s plenty of work to be done inside. Come on in and take a break. I’ll meet you in the galley shortly.”

  Looking through the circular galley windows, all I can see are dark clouds. Princess Royal Island itself is completely socked in. On a ship as big as the Pacific Yellowfin, you only feel the motion of the sea when it’s really rough, and it’s rough. I can’t help but wonder how Captain Colin and Dr. Brezner are faring in these conditions.