Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

  “Three to a room?” Mariah protested.

  “Hey,” said Trip, brightening, “if any of you ladies feels too crowded, you’re welcome to—”

  “Spare us,” Laurel broke in. “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine.”

  She glanced over at Cassie, wanting to give her an encouraging smile. But the woeful look on her best friend’s face told her it would take a lot more than that to cheer her up.

  * * * *

  Dr. Wells had been correct in his assessment of how long it would take everyone to unpack. Spreading out her sleeping bag on the top bunk and hanging some of her clothes up on the hooks on the wall took Laurel less than five minutes. Leaving Cassie to wrestle with her sleeping bag on the bottom bunk and Mariah to agonize over how little storage space there was for all the clothes she’d brought, she went into the kitchen area to find something to drink.

  Dr. Wells had beat her there. “I’ve mixed up a pitcher of iced tea,” he informed her cheerfully. “We even have ice. That refrigerator might be small, but thanks to the magic of propane it works as well as any other.”

  Laurel accepted the cold drink he offered. Perching on the edge of the couch, she was about to ask him about the first steps the team would be taking the following morning when a stranger’s voice called, “Knock, knock!”

  Standing in the doorway, holding back the mosquito netting, was a tall, gaunt man with a ragged beard and bright blue eyes. At his side was a small boy, probably no older than eight or nine. Like his father, his dark blond hair looked as if it could use a trim. His blue eyes were also exact copies of the older man’s. One thing that was noticeably different, however, was the scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  “I’m John Torvold, the station manager of the Wolf Lake Preserve. And this is Danny. Is Dr. Wells here?”

  “I’m right here, John.” He emerged from the kitchen area, his own glass of iced tea in hand.

  “Ethan! Great to see you!” The two men exchanged a hearty handshake.

  “Same here.” Dr. Wells tousled Danny’s hair. “Hey, Danny. How’s that insect collection going?”

  The little boy looked surprised. “You remembered!”

  “Of course I remembered,” said Dr. Wells. “You’ve got one of the most impressive collections I’ve ever seen.”

  Danny was beaming. “I’ve got more than a hundred species!” he reported proudly.

  The sound of footsteps out on the front porch caused them all to look out. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt was hovering behind them, smiling shyly.

  “Come on in, Lucy,” said John. “Dr. Wells is back— and he’s brought a whole new group of students.”

  The sound of unrecognizable voices brought the others out of the sleeping areas and into the front room.

  “Let me introduce all of you,” Dr. Wells said, suddenly sounding strangely formal. “Lucy and John Tor-void, meet Laurel Adams, Cassie Davis, Trip Raynor, Marian Burke, and Russ Corcoran. John and Lucy take care of things here on the preserve. Their son, Danny, knows more about this place than anybody in the world.”

  “I learned a whole bunch of new stuff, too!” the boy asserted, wearing a wide grin.

  “There’s somebody else living on the preserve,” said John. “Jim Whitehorse helps me with some of the heavy work around here. He’s kind of a loner, living off in the woods in his own cabin. In fact, you probably won’t be seeing very much of him.”

  Danny’s eyes had grown wide. “He’s a big, scary-looking guy. Every time I see him, I run!”

  His father chuckled, meanwhile placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There’s no reason to be afraid of Whitehorse,” he insisted. “He’s just the kind of person who likes to keep to himself, that’s all.”

  “Anything else we need to know?” asked Dr. Wells.

  John and Lucy exchanged nervous glances. Laurel found herself growing uncomfortable.

  “There is one thing we’d better warn you about,” John Torvold said slowly.

  “You mean the bears, Dad?” said Danny.

  Cassie gasped. “Bears!”

  “You’re joking, right?” Marian said at the same time.

  As for Trip, his face had lit up. “Cool!” he breathed.

  “We’ve seen signs of the bears coming closer to the cabins than ever before,” Danny informed them excitedly. “We actually saw paw prints in the dirt.” Proudly he added, “I’m the one who found them.”

  Cassie’s blue eyes were wide. “I thought I’d heard they don’t bother humans if the humans don’t bother them.”

  “They usually don’t,” said John. “Most of the time, when they pick up the scent of a human—and they have an excellent sense of smell—they take off in the opposite direction. And if you ever come across one while you’re out in the woods, he’ll probably just sniff you and then leave you alone.”

  “ ‘Most of the time’? ‘Probably’?” Cassie swallowed hard. “If this is supposed to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

  “The truth of the matter,” Lucy Torvold interjected, “is that Cassie’s right to be cautious. See that wall over there?”

  The group looked over in the direction she’d indicated. Laurel noticed that the wood along one section did look newer than the rest.

  “A few years back, a bear chewed a hole through that wall and came right in. He didn’t even bother with the door.”

  “He must have been looking for food,” said Laurel.

  “Not necessarily,” said John. “Sure, people tend to say that. But I’ve seen bears come into a cabin even when there was no food.”

  “I’m sure this won’t come up,” Russ said evenly, choosing his words carefully, “but what do you recommend we do if a bear ever does come into the cabin?”

  “Make as much noise as you can,” said Lucy. “Yell, wave your arms, rattle pots and pans.... Chances are, that’ll scare him off.”

  “H-how big do these bears get?” asked Cassie

  “The Alaskan brown bear—the grizzly—is the largest meat-eating animal living on land,” Trip volunteered.

  “They get to be eight or nine feet long,” Russ added. “And they can weigh more than fifteen hundred pounds.”

  “Fifteen hundred?” Cassie gulped. “They’re as big as cars!”

  “Fortunately, they’re not quite as fast,” said Trip. “Although twenty or twenty-five miles per hour isn’t bad.”

  “I don’t want to have any run-ins with bears any more than the rest of you,” said Laurel, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing one.”

  “They’re beautiful animals,” Trip agreed.

  “Maybe too beautiful for their own good,” John Torvold muttered, more to himself than to the others.

  “What do you mean?” asked Mariah.

  He paused a moment, as if wondering whether or not to go ahead and say what he was thinking. “We’ve been having problems with poachers. People coming around and killing bears illegally.”

  “What for?” Cassie asked.

  “Probably for nothing more than the sheer joy of killing,” Mariah replied dryly.

  “It’s true that some of them are hunters,” John explained. “Actually, it’s perfectly legal to kill during the season. The Department of Fish and Game sets aside a month in the spring and a month in the fall when bear hides are at their peak. In the summer, the hides aren’t much good. The bears are shedding, so their fur’s not full.

  “It’s only during the legal hunting season that hunters can get themselves what we call ‘a good prime bear.’ Fish and Game has no problem with that, as long as the hunter applies for a license first and then abides by all the laws.”

  “What are those?” asked Trip.

  “First of all, it’s against the law to kill a cub or a sow with cubs. Second, when a hunter does kill a bear, he has to bring in the skull and the hide. The biologists check it out—the size, the condition of the fur, the time of the year it’s been killed. All that’s to help us regulate the
season.

  “Aside from the time of the year and the kind of bear a hunter’s allowed to kill, we also regulate how it’s done.”

  Marian shrugged. “Don’t the hunters just go out and shoot with rifles?”

  “Basically. That’s your average hunter, anyway. But some people want to turn what’s meant to be a sport into a business. The main regulation is against using aircraft to get bears. There are professional guides, people who know their way around up here. They’re licensed pilots who own their own supercubs, little PA-18s that can land on mountaintops or clearings. These planes have big wheels—tundra wheels—or else skis for landing on snow in the spring. They take people up into the mountains and drop them off.

  “All that’s fine. It’s when they use two planes that they’re breaking the law. The way it works is, they track a bear from the air, looking for prints on the trail or in the snow. Once they locate him, one drives him toward the other plane, where he gets shot. The bottom line is that it’s illegal to ‘chase and herd.’ ‘‘

  “Then, of course,” Lucy Torvold interjected, “there are people who kill a bear to get its claws and its gallbladder.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cassie cried. “Killing a huge animal for two small parts—”

  “Sure it’s ridiculous—to you and me.” John frowned. “But some people’d do anything to make a buck. You see, they can sell a bear gallbladder. In certain Asian cultures, it’s believed to be an aphrodisiac—something that makes people feel romantic. As for the claws, they’re sold to people who wear them around their neck or keep them on their desk, just for show.”

  Laurel gasped, “Unbelievable!”

  “It’s even more unbelievable since a bear gallbladder’s worth less than a hundred dollars. Still, it happens more often than you’d think. And, as I said, lately it’s been happening around Wolf Lake. In the past few weeks, I came across three illegal kills.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Laurel.

  “Aside from the time of year, you can usually tell when somebody’s killed a bear illegally because he’ll cover up the remains with willow branches and leave it to rot. See, a stripped carcass is white, and it’s easy for a plane to spot. If you’re somebody who wants to keep your little secret safe, you’ve got to hide it.”

  “Just as long as all this is going on in the woods— and not around here,” Mariah commented with a shudder. “As far as I’m concerned, the less I see or even hear about bears, the better.”

  “I suppose we’re well stocked with pepper spray, just in case,” Russ said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, yes,” said Lucy. “There are a few cans on that shelf. Help yourselves.”

  “Pepper spray?” Cassie repeated, puzzled. “What’s that?”

  “A spray can filled with hot pepper,” Trip explained, his attitude as casual as Russ’s. “Whenever you go out into the woods, make sure you bring it. If a bear comes close, spray it into his eyes.”

  Mariah stared at him, her hands on her hips. “You’re joking, right? I mean, you’re not really advising us to resort to hand-to-hand combat with a monster the size of Godzilla, are you?”

  Trip shrugged. “You can always run. Of course, any grizzly worth his salt can outrun you. Not to mention the fact that as soon as he sees you take off, he’ll assume you’re a tasty morsel that’ll make the perfect lunch.”

  “Great,” Mariah muttered. She flopped down on the couch, letting out a loud sigh. “Welcome to Alaska.”

  ***

  “What a nightmare!” Cassie sobbed. She threw her gear onto the lumpy bed, then sank onto its edge with her head in her hands. “Oh, Laurel! How am I ever going to get through the next six weeks?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Laurel insisted. She sat down next to her, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.

  “Bad! I don’t know which part is the worst! First of all, just look at this place!” Cassie cried. “It looks like ... it looks like something a kid built out of Lincoln Logs!”

  Laurel couldn’t help smiling. “It’s a lot more substantial than that. Besides, toys don’t come equipped with propane stoves and hurricane lamps and fully-functioning refrigerators.”

  “Did you see what we’re supposed to use for a bathroom?”

  “Outhouses don’t exactly have the reputation of being luxurious.”

  “But it smells! And there are so many mosquitoes I could hardly see.” Cassie shuddered. “I couldn’t even close the door. I tried, but it was dark. There’s no electricity in there!”

  “Still, you’ve got to admit it offers a terrific view of the lake,” Laurel joked.

  Cassie was anything but amused. “Oh, Laurel, how am I ever going to stand it?” she wailed. “You know as well as I do that coming here wasn’t my idea. I was all set for a relaxing summer, working the cash register in some air-conditioned store, spending every spare moment I could find drawing and painting.” She took a deep breath, hoping her voice would stop wavering. “D-do you think if I told my parents what it’s really like here, they’d let me go home?”

  Laurel slung a sisterly arm around her friend. “Come on, Cassie. It won’t be so bad. Before you know it, this place’ll seem like home. It’ll be fun. Sleeping in a log cabin, living on a lake ... doesn’t the idea of a real-life adventure appeal to you at all?”

  Cassie’s only response was a grimace.

  “Okay. Then at least try to make the best of it. Sure, living in the woods like this will be more of a challenge than spending the summer standing behind the counter in a store. But at least we have each other.”

  Cassie tried to smile, without much success. “Maybe if it were just you and me, it wouldn’t be so bad. But I don’t know how I’m ever going to spend an entire summer with Mariah.”

  “Oh, after a few days, the three of us will probably be the best of friends.” Laurel waved her hand in the air. “You’d be surprised how common experience brings people together. Besides, Russ seems kind of nice, don’t you think?”

  Cassie gave a halfhearted shrug. “He’s all right, I guess.”

  “And Trip ... well, as I said, people change once they get to know each other. Besides, I think Dr. Wells is great, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, he seems pretty cool.” Cassie took a deep breath. “But what about that weird guy John told us about? I’m not exactly crazy about the idea of him wandering around in the woods out there.” She picked at imaginary pieces of lint on the right knee of her jeans. “He reminds me of Big Foot.”

  Laurel laughed. “Maybe he is. That would certainly explain that legend. But seriously, Cassie, I’m sure he’s not going to bother us. The way John described him, he didn’t exactly impress me as somebody who’s going to be coming around here day and night, asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

  “What about the bears?” Cassie grumbled. “I bet you can’t say the same for them.”

  Laurel hesitated, biting her lip pensively as she stared at the floor. “Well, the bears are a real danger. I can’t deny that. We just have to be careful and take all the precautions the Torvolds told us about.

  “I know all this is a bit of a shock for you, Cassie. I agree with you that Alaska isn’t like anyplace else I’ve ever seen. But I’d bet anything that in a couple of days, this place will feel like home, just like Dr. Wells promised. Without cable TV, of course.”

  Cassie could feel some of her fears melting away. Laurel sounded so certain that things weren’t that bad. She actually seemed to like it here.

  Of course, Laurel is Laurel, Cassie reminded herself.

  She is my best friend, but her idea of a good time has always seemed kind of strange to me. I mean, traipsing through the woods, risking bug bites and poison ivy and who even knows what else? Holing up in a lab for hours on end glued to a microscope? Memorizing the names of parts of plants and animals as if they really mattered?

  Even so, Cassie was willing to give Laurel the benefit of the doubt, to buy in to her claim that somehow, through some power she couldn�
�t quite comprehend, she was actually going to get through this summer.

  After all, she had very little choice.

  Chapter Six

  Laurel stepped out of the dimly-lit cabin and was greeted by the early morning sun, already high in the pale Alaskan sky. She pushed up the sleeves of the long-sleeved T-shirt she wore with a pair of jeans, raising her face toward the sun’s welcoming rays.

  Even though she was alone, she smiled. All around her, the world was coming alive with the new day. The forest was rich with color, a breathtaking mosaic of greens and browns. Hidden in the dense leaves of the trees were birds, fluttering through the branches, calling to each other with sweet chirping sounds. Even the buzzing mosquitoes seemed especially alert on this fine June morning.

  As she stood outside the cabin, what struck her even more than the sights and sounds was the fragrance. The thick growth of leaves, still moist with dew; the damp soil beneath her feet; the fresh, clear air.... Laurel took a deep breath, eagerly drawing it all in. She was experiencing a sense of contentment she couldn’t remember having felt in a very long time.

  She was startled by the unexpected sound of Dr. Wells’s voice. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

  Her self-consciousness over having been caught off guard only lasted a moment. “It’s pretty incredible,” she agreed. “In a way being here is like taking a trip back in time, seeing the world the way it must have looked millions of years ago. No roads, no shopping centers ... not a single candy wrapper or cigarette butt lying on the ground.”

  “You can experience complete peace up here,” said Dr. Wells. “Kind of makes you wish you’d never have to return to civilization again, doesn’t it?”

  Before she had a chance to respond, the stillness around them was interrupted by a loud thumping. Laurel turned and saw Mariah and Trip coming out of the cabin, dragging fish traps, a giant cooler, and a few other assorted items onto the porch.

  “Why do we have to be the packhorses?” Mariah grumbled. “This is the 1990s. Why can’t we take advantage of the invention of the wheel? Right now I’d kill for a wagon or a ... a wheelbarrow or—”