We set up camp about a hundred feet from the sturdy tracks of the Alaska Railway, just before the sun set. We climbed into the relative warmth of our tent with the intention of getting a good sleep and waking up early for some hiking. Ha.

I had been driving all day and passed out easily, but now it's the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep even if somebody put a valium in my Rumplemintz flask. I was awakened by a desperate desire to pee and deep, brittle-boned chill. Problem: There is no way I'm getting out of the succor of my sleeping bag and expose my immortality stick to this urethra stripping cold in order to take a piss.
And there are bears out there.
So I'm staying in my womb, writing by flashlight in my blue journal. In this way, I attempt to ward off my bulging kidneys.

There's a bulletin posted near camp. It says: "Bear encounter Tips."

There are deep similarities between my fear of bears and my fear of flying. I know they are both irrational fears - almost.
I get a sense of, "Don't Jinx it" before I go on flights. Seeing this bear poster was very much like seeing that, "What-to-do-when-the-plane-goes-down-in-a-fiery-avalanche" placard in the seat pocket before you.

Bear Encounter Tips [abridged]:
1. While hiking. . . . make noise by talking or singing
2. Be aware of bear scat or tracks.
3. If you see a bear, DO NOT RUN. Bears respond to running animals by chasing them!
4. If the bear is approaching you. . . Wave your arms and speak in a firm, calm voice.
5. If the bear charges, continue to stand your ground. Most charges are bluffs."

How does anyone ever resist the temptation to run? Oh sure, it's easy to say -- now that I'm cozily wrapped up in my sleeping bag (and yes, I still have to piss!) -- that I would never run from a bear. Nobody, ever, ever -- not even Gump -- can outrun bear.

Especially not here in the wildland, where squirrels cackle like devils (not an exaggeration) and man is just another species of meat -- How are you gonna hold your ground when a bear is charging with snapping jaws, sprouting claws, and brown foam squirting from his mouth?
But if I got a chuckle out of "Number 5," then "Number 6" was a 5-alarm belly blaze:
6. Only play dead as a last resort, when contact is imminent. "When contact is imminent," I thought, "will be the precise moment I
go into shock and lay there like a Salmon and Honey, TV dinner." The only problem Mr. Griz will have then is how to digest camera."

Of course that prick Half-Ass is sleeping next to me soundly. He's not afraid of bears. He's a mountain man.
On the morning that I caught my plane to Alaska, my neighbor Eden gave me her St. Christopher medal.
"This will ward off bears," she said.
I showed it to Half Ass and told him that it was a kind-of "bear force field."
"Take that thing off!" he bellowed. "I WANT to see bears, the closer the better."
That was my first sign that Half Ass might be going mad.
Anyway, have to piss now, it is un-ignorable.