Found myself in another part of the world – Cow Bay, Prince Rupert, BC – where I’m going on a bear hunt, on a boat tour … the last one of the season, with the very last goddamn ticket – the golden ticket.
How did this happen, how did I get here … how do I work this?
Before the boat leaves, I run around the harbour, searching for answers … following a trail of breadcrumbs, to a seafood lunch / brunch at Bob’s on the Rocks – fending off considerable seagull attention, even under parasols.
In the dull murk of the late morning, occasional brightness appears – in rainbows, in wildflowers, in streetlights.
The boat trip is a sellout. I sit with my cab-sharer from last night, Spencer, and we head into the grey again, into the silent water.
Eagles are following us, hungry for scraps of fresh meat.
Many people from the Skeena, including lovely Shelley from Ontario.
We get wet together on the top deck.
The anecdote about taking a scientific research trip to far north Canada, flying in a helicopter in whiteout conditions … with the pilot asking everyone onboard to stick their head out of the window and keep an eye out for ground.
Shelley is right here right now, speaking to me – so I figure it all ended as well as it could.
We laugh nervously about fate, destiny, circumstance and stars.
It’s an appropriate moment to take my chances at the bar, picking up a local craft ale, in order to best consider the scenery, while stroking my chin.
The afternoon is spent wandering around coves and inlets near the Alaskan border, searching out grizzlies.
We drink beer and eat sandwiches while waiting for something to happen.
Time may not be after us, but the damn wildlife will see us coming, that’s for sure.
When a grizzly bear does appear, it’s distant but just about visible.
We slowly move in closer, for a slightly closer look of a very faraway wild animal – a speck in a mountain landscape … which appears to be ablaze behind it.
The skipper loiters, in the hope that family members may appear. Yet it’s soon apparent they’re letting the days go by in the woods, hiding from us the paying paparazzi today.
On the return journey, whales messing about in full view of us – closer than the bears ever got.
And the eagles make a return, swooping in low to the boat, almost lifting toupees clean off some of the elder folk.
It’s dusk when the boat docks back in Prince Rupert, so we all hug the staff and hotfoot it to the pub on the pier, on the neon side of town, for a strong beer served in a tall glass.
I will dream of birds and bears and whales and helicopter flights tonight.
Same as it ever was.
An Outside World 