A listener note. Against the Odds features dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game had no role in the production of this podcast. Bart Pichul takes a deep breath.
Letting the freezing air burn his lungs. His legs ache from the effort of hiking uphill through deep snow. As he exhales, his breath clouds in front of him. And he can't help but smile.
It's early afternoon on February 6th, 2021, 10 miles outside of Haines, Alaska. Haines is a small community located along Alaska's Inside Passage, a marine waterway that connects the state's southeastern coast to British Columbia and Washington State.
It's geographically isolated, to say the least. The primary way to get to Haines is by boat. A ferry runs a couple times a week from Juneau, the state capital, about 90 miles away. Otherwise, there's one road that winds over a rugged mountain pass into a remote corner of Canada.
Haynes calls itself the adventure capital of Alaska. It draws intrepid souls who are happy to trade the perks of big city life for its remoteness and stunning beauty. For Bart, a tall 38-year-old from Poland, it's heaven. His first glimpse of Haynes was from a snowboarding video he saw as a teenager.
Instantly, he fell in love. The icy blue waters, the soaring eagles, the snow-covered mountains, all of it drew him. When he announced that one day he would move there, his friends and family scoffed. But in 2013, at the age of 30, that's exactly what he did. And it's been everything he dreamed it would be.
He's happiest where he is right now, in unspoiled backcountry, far from civilization, surrounded by towering hemlock and spruce trees, traversing over pristine snow.
Ahead of him, his friend Jeff Moskowitz trudges up the incline. They're planning to follow the ridge above the tree line and then make their way back down. Moskowitz has his ski strapped to his backpack as they hike. Bart's snowboard is tied to his own backpack. Ahead of both men, and out of sight at the moment, is their other friend, Graham Kraft.
The three men have been friends for over five years and logged hundreds of hours in the backcountry, both together and separately. As Bart continues to climb, he spots something brown and furry about 50 feet in front of him. It's a little bigger than a soccer ball. He squints, trying to see what it might be. He can't tell for certain, but he's pretty sure it's a porcupine. Then he stops short.
The porcupine is getting bigger and bigger as more of it emerges from the snow. A jolt of adrenaline surges through him. That's no porcupine. Based on how large it is, it can only be one thing.
A coastal brown bear. Moskowitz must have walked right over its den and woken it up as he hiked just ahead of Bart. The bear fully emerges from under the snow. Coastal brown bears can weigh up to 1,500 pounds. This one isn't that big, but to Bart, it still looks massive.
The bear wags its head back and forth as it appears to shake off the stupor of hibernation. Then its eyes focus right on Bart. His mouth goes dry as the bear begins to trundle right toward him.
Bart knows he doesn't dare run. Bears' natural instincts tell them to chase fleeing animals, and in short bursts, they can run up to 40 miles per hour, far faster than any human. And Moskowitz and Kraft are too far away to help. So Bart has to think fast. He has to remember his bear safety training, because if he makes one wrong move,
One mistake, this bear could easily kill him. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder. If you're looking for new ways to ignite your creativity and open your mind to fresh perspectives, then let Audible be your guide. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, or any genre you love, Audible is the place for you.
you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, and new ways of thinking. There's more to imagine when you listen. Plus, as an Audible member, you'll get one title a month to keep from their entire catalog. If you're into mythology, then I recommend the title Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman. He's an amazing storyteller that narrates this unique version of the Norse myths.
Listen along. New members can try Audible free for 30 days. Visit audible.com slash the odds or text the odds to 500-500. That's audible.com slash the odds or text the odds to 500-500. Against the Odds is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. What if comparing car insurance rates was as easy as putting on your favorite podcast? With Progressive, it is. Just visit the Progressive website to quote with all the coverages you want. You can also find us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
You'll see Progressive's direct rate, then their tool will provide options from other companies so you can compare. All you need to do is choose the rate and coverage you'd like. Quote today at Progressive.com to join the over 28 million drivers who trust Progressive. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates. Comparison rates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds.
The town of Haines, Alaska, lies in a region that has one of the densest bear populations in the world. With so many bears, residents have gotten used to them. But over the past few years, climate change has curtailed the bears' natural food sources. And as a result, encounters between bears and humans have more than doubled.
This is the story of how bears and humans are struggling to live side by side in a small Alaska town, and the effect a changing environment is having on us both. This is Episode 1, In Defense of Life and Property.
Carl Koch peers through his wire-rimmed glasses at a large coastal brown bear as it rifles through a garbage pit at the Haines landfill. He stands at a safe distance, but close enough that he can hear the bear snorts and grunts as it sniffs bottles and cans, searching for food. The bear's honey-brown fur glints in the dump's floodlights.
Next to Koch, the local police chief, Heath Scott, blows on his hands to warm them up in the nearly freezing midnight air. It's October 2019. Koch is a biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. He's flown into Haines from Juneau to look at the growing number of bear encounters the town has been experiencing. The roughly 2,000 residents of Haines are used to bears.
The small town is surrounded by wilderness, with water on two sides and the dramatic peaks of the Chilkat Range looming behind it. Biologists estimate that there are approximately 300 coastal brown bears in the area. They're the same species as grizzlies, but even larger thanks to the rich diet that comes from living on the coast.
Normally, bears avoid contact with humans. But over the past several months, there's been a dramatic increase in bears wandering into town and damaging property. They've broken boats, damaged ATVs, cracked doors to garages and yurts. Residents are frustrated and on edge.
A cold wind carries a stench from the open pile of trash. Koch wrinkles his nose at the smell. This is not what he imagined working in Alaska would be like. He thought he'd be spending his days surrounded by a pristine nature, watching animals and their natural habitat. Instead, here he is, standing in a trash dump.
Koch spent 17 years working as a paramedic in New Jersey before he discovered his passion for wildlife. After spending a summer interning at an Alaska moose reserve, he joined the Department of Fish and Game in 2007. Koch looks over at Scott and points toward the bear, indicating he wants to get closer. Scott nods and the two men begin to creep forward, trying not to alert the bear.
Koch has spent the day touring the town with Chief Scott and talking to residents. It's become clear to him why the bears are coming to town so often. And the answer's right here in front of them. Trash. There are laws that require Haines residents to secure what are known as attractants. An attractant is anything that a hungry bear might be drawn to. Livestock, compost piles, especially garbage.
But all over town, Koch has seen dumpsters with flimsy plastic lids or rusted out bottoms, allowing bears easy access to the tasty garbage inside.
It's no wonder the bears have learned that there's food easily available in Haines. It's been a poor year for both salmon and berries, key components of the brown bear's diet. So they're looking for alternate food sources. And Haines is providing that in abundance. Koch tiptoes forward. This is their fifth bear sighting of the night. But he's not sure this is a bear they've seen before or a different one.
He wants to get close enough to identify it. Koch's foot lands on a stick, and the bear's head rears up. Koch puts his hands on his pepper spray, ready to use it if the bear comes in their direction. Luckily, the bear races off in the opposite direction, leaving a trail of trash scattered in its wake. Koch feels his pulse slow. He walks up to the fresh garbage pit the bear just abandoned, and points to a gap in the electric fence.
Cotch has heard that too.
It's a common belief that once bears are used to coming into town and lose their fear of people, they'll come back, no matter how secure the attractants are. But Koch doesn't believe it. That's a myth. I really think that if you can get people on board with securing the attractants, I mean truly securing them, the bears will learn that Hanes is no longer an easy source of food, and they'll stop coming. Scott raises his eyebrows skeptically. I don't know.
The bears seem to have lost their fear of humans. I don't think securing attractants is going to be enough. Kotz starts to point out that none of the bears they've spotted tonight have let them approach at all. They all seem pretty scared of humans. But he bites his tongue. It won't do any good to antagonize the chief of police. The two of them need to work together if they're going to decrease the number of bear encounters in Hanes.
Police Chief Heath Scott leans back in his seat and runs his hand impatiently through his slick back blonde hair. His high-backed leather chair squeaks loudly. Carl Koch, the biologist from Fish and Game, sits across from him. They're on opposite sides of a wooden U-shaped table. About a dozen town residents sit around the table with them.
It's January 2020, and they're at the first meeting of the Haines Bear Task Force. The bears are now hibernating for the winter, but in the spring, they'll wake up. And before that happens, the task force wants to develop strategies to prevent as many bear encounters as possible. Everyone agrees that something has to be done, but no one can agree on what.
Koch is briefing the task force on his October visit, noting just how many dumpsters he saw overturned by bears around town. It looked like a hurricane had come through. Dumpsters were just flipped everywhere. Scott half listens. He was on that tour with Koch. He doesn't need it described to him.
Sometimes, Scott can't believe this is his life. Three and a half years ago, he was in Washington, D.C., working for an agency tasked with protecting all the buildings owned or leased by the District of Columbia. But he and his wife had decided they wanted a slower lifestyle, with more time to spend raising their five children. So when the job of Haynes' police chief had opened up, he applied. Now, instead of spending his days worried about terrorists, he worries about bears.
Recently, he's been worrying about bears a lot. Last year, in 2019, his office fielded 179 calls about bear encounters, 100 more than the year before. What was a nuisance is starting to become dangerous.
Across the room, Koch is wrapping up his comments. Making certain all dumpsters are secure would go a long way in decreasing the number of bear encounters. Scott leans forward. With all due respect, I'm not sure that will have the impact that we need. The vast majority of civilians are following the law. It's just not enough given the current environment. Scott knows Koch isn't going to like what he's about to say next.
We need to consider strategies to dispatch bears that have crossed from nuisance to safety hazard, even if all they're eating is garbage. Dispatching a bear is the polite term for killing it. It's illegal in Alaska to kill bears outside of hunting season, unless it's in defense of life and property. Garbage doesn't count as property, but Koch thinks it might be time to revisit that rule.
People around the table speak up in agreement. One resident insists that the bears have gotten lazy. "Look at them! They don't even know how to fish for salmon anymore!" Koch interjects. "There was no salmon for them to hunt! It was a historically bad year for salmon." They're looking for other food sources, and as long as Haynes provides a stable source of food by not securing their trash, the bears will keep coming.
People still grumble. One resident says it's ridiculous that they have to live in fear of bears breaking into their homes. Another complains that soon the bears will be going after the chickens and goats that some residents keep on their property. Koch shakes his head, clearly frustrated. He turns to Scott.
At the very least, you and your officers should try hazing the bears. Shoot rubber bullets or beanbags at them. Try to scare them off the garbage. Now it's Scott's turn to shake his head. He's not putting his officers at risk by asking them to antagonize a bear with non-lethal weapons. Before the argument can escalate, the chair adjourns the meeting. As Scott walks out into the cold and overcast day, he feels unsettled.
They don't appear any closer to solving the problem, and he worries that it won't be long before a bear hurts someone.
Carl Koch runs his hand over the damaged exterior of a garage wall. He can make out the claw marks in the jagged wood where the bear swiped at it. It's June 2020, five months since the first meeting of the Bear Task Force. Since then, it feels like little progress has been made to curb the bear problem in Haines. Today, Koch is back in Haines to help track down a bear that's made repeated visits to town, causing thousands of dollars in property damage.
Nearby, Police Chief Heath Scott talks with the owner of the property. "This happened last night?" The resident nods. "Yeah, a couple nights ago, the bear came and just pushed through the door. She got into some trash, but last night, she just went straight for the wall." Scott throws a glance at Koch before he asks his next question. "And you're sure it was the same bear?" "Yeah, the noise woke me up both times. I saw a sow with two cubs."
Scott thanks the man for his time. As they walk back to Scott's patrol car, he and Codge argue about this latest problem bear. Scott sighs, frustrated. Despite what you think, I don't like killing bears. But this one has become a menace. I've gotten a dozen calls over the past two weeks about her. She needs to be dispatched. Codge says,
Koch knows that Scott's not wrong. This bear has become what's known as food conditioned. She's been rewarded with food enough times after breaking into garages that now she'll break in even when an attractant isn't present. Back in the 1990s, there were attempts to relocate bears who repeatedly came into town, but it didn't work. The bears had come right back, so killing this bear is the only option.
And her cubs will have to be euthanized too, because they're too young to survive on their own. Koch looks around and sees attractants up and down the block.
Trees heavy with fruit, open compost piles, trash cans with flimsy plastic lids. He turns to Scott. "How many citations have you issued for people failing to secure attractants?" "None. I prefer education over punishment." Citation IS a form of education. It gets people to really prioritize getting their stuff squared away. The way the law is written, it's really vague as to what adequately securing attractants even means.
Who's to say what is and what isn't secured? Koch sighs. He knows that at least some people are trying. Residents of Haines have organized a volunteer group to pick ripe fruit off the trees. He's seen letters to the editor and social media posts urging people to do everything they can to secure their attractants.
But without meaningful enforcement of the laws, Koch feels like it's too little, too late. Especially as the changing climate continues to reduce the bear's natural food sources. In the darkness of her bedroom, Christina Harder's eyes fly open. She bolts upright. Her fox terrier is barking like crazy.
She glances at her clock. It's just after one in the morning in September 2020. She hears wood crack and splinter. Something or someone is breaking through her front door. And then she hears a growl. She knows that sound.
Two nights ago, a bear broke into her garage, and now it's trying to come into her house. Carter flings off the covers and runs to her bedroom door, slamming it shut and locking it. She's nearly 70 and had no idea she could still move that fast. She rushes back and crouches in a corner. Her heart thunders in her ears as the dog's barks become more frantic.
Harder hugs her knees to her chin, squeezing her eyes shut, and waits for the bear to come. When you're hiring, time is of the essence. That's why more than 3.5 million businesses worldwide use Indeed to find exceptional talent fast. Indeed's powerful matching engine works quickly. So quickly that, according to Indeed data worldwide, every minute, 23 hires are made on Indeed.
But it doesn't stop there, because Indeed also helps you hire better. 93% of employers agree Indeed delivers the highest quality matches compared to other job sites, according to a recent Indeed survey. That's because their matching engine is always learning from your preference. So the more you use Indeed, the better it gets.
So let Indeed be your go-to for making great hires quickly and easily. And listeners of the show, get a $75 sponsored job credit to get your jobs more visibility at Indeed.com slash the odds. Just go to Indeed.com slash the odds right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast.
Indeed.com slash the odds. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? You need Indeed. These days, it feels like we're all just on the hunt for ways to optimize our health and feel our absolute best. The only problem is, with all these supplements out there, it can be really tough to know which ones are actually worth your time and money. That's where today's sponsor, Symbiotica, comes in. Symbiotica is a
premium supplement brand that's raising the bar when it comes to purity, potency, and efficacy. Their supplements are formulated with high-quality ingredients. That's why their formulas don't have any seed oils, preservatives, toxins, artificial additives, or natural flavors.
Plus, while most supplements can taste chalky or sulfuric, Symbiotica supplements have amazing flavors like citrus lime, vanilla chai, or wild berry. I've been loving the magnesium supplement from Symbiotica. Being low in magnesium, I've made it a priority lately to take it consistently. I love how I can take it on the go and ensure I'm never missing a dose. Feel more energized, alert, and balanced with high-quality supplements that work.
Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Haynes Police Chief Heath Scott steps around the debris outside Christine Harder's house. His feet crunch on broken glass and splintered wood. The bear really did a number on this property. It even got into her car before damaging her front door.
Scott shakes his head. It's September 2020 and the bear problem in Haines is only getting worse. A few weeks ago, a bear broke into a mini storage facility, tearing through the insulated wall of an outbuilding. 17 bears have been killed over the past few months in defense of life and property. An unprecedented number and nothing seems to be helping.
Christine Harder opens her damaged front door and walks out, her fox terrier by her side. Her salt and pepper hair is tied up in a bun. She looks shaken, but resolute. She explained over the phone that the bear never managed to get in. She thinks her dog must have scared it off, but she spent a long night worried that the bear would come back. And what about tonight? There's still a chance it could return.
Scott asks if there's any attractants in the garage that could have drawn the bear.
Harder shrugs. ''I didn't think so, but it did tear into some fertilizer and eat some scented candles. I didn't know they were attractants.'' ''What about the car? Anything in there?'' Harder shakes her head. ''No, the car was completely empty.'' Scott nods. ''Carl Koch and the other biologists from Fish and Game keep focusing on securing attractants, but even when citizens do everything right, bears are still damaging their property and terrorizing them.''
"'Harter glances nervously up and down the street. "'I saw the bear wandering around earlier today. "'What if it comes back tonight?'
Scott just looks at her. He doesn't have a good answer. Harder rolls her eyes in frustration. Well then, I've had a good life, I suppose. She wheels around and stomps back into her house. Scott watches her go. He just doesn't know what else he can do to keep the residents of Haines safe.
Chief Scott sits on the couch in his living room watching TV when he hears something outside. His wife sits next to him. She looks at him, alarmed. What is that? It's a little after 8 p.m. on October 9th, 2020. Scott sits up straight and mutes the TV. Their children are in their rooms doing their homework. He hears it again.
Something's trying to get into our garage. Stay here. Don't let the kids near the door. Scott stands and hurries to the front door. He opens the door a crack and peers out to see a female bear and her cub pawing at his garage door. Their claws dig into the wood. He recognizes the bear. His neighbor showed him video footage of this same animal pulverizing his garage door the week before. Scott's
Scott steps outside, his eyes fixed on the bear. He extends his arms out from his sides and yells, "Hey! Hey! Get out of here! Go! Get out of here! Scram!" The bear doesn't even look over at her. She just keeps clawing at his garage door. Scott grits his teeth. This bear clearly has no fear of humans, and she's teaching her cub not to fear them too.
As far as he's concerned, this bear is a danger to public safety.
Scott goes back inside and sprints to where he stores his .357 revolver, quickly loading it with hollow-point bullets. A handgun doesn't necessarily have the power to kill a bear through its thick fur and hide, but it's the only gun he has available to him. He hopes the hollow-point bullets, which expand on impact, will hurt the bear enough to make it run off. His wife enters, her eyes wide with fear.
What are you doing? I'm going to shoot the bear. His wife skeptically eyes the gun in his hand. Where's your rifle? In my cruiser, on the other side of the bears. This is the only gun I have.
Be careful. Scott runs back to the front door. He steps outside into the cold. The bears have moved on from his garage and have knocked over his trash can, even though it was fitted with a lid that locked in place. They've managed to get one of the bags out, strewing garbage everywhere. Scott extends his arm, points his weapon, and shoots. The bullet hits the adult bear on the shoulder, but all it seems to do is irritate her.
She rears up and roars. Scott keeps the gun extended, ready to fire again. But the bear scampers away, her cub right behind her. Scott lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He holsters his gun and starts cleaning up the trash. This is the first time a bear has visited his property, but he knows it probably won't be the last.
A few days later, Scott stands outside his house with his arms crossed as he watches Alaska wildlife trooper Robert Welch inspect his damaged trash can. Welch looks up, adjusting his cap. Where was the bin located? Outside, but that bin is up to code. It's heavy-duty rubber with a lid that snaps closed. My trash was properly secured. Welch nods and makes a note in his notebook.
Scott bites his lip to keep himself from flying off the handle. Welch is here from Juneau, over 90 miles away, to investigate whether Scott violated the law by shooting the bear. Even though he's police chief, the same rules apply to him. He can only shoot a bear in defense of life or property.
and if all attractants were secured. If he's found to have illegally shot the bear, he could face a hefty fine and possibly jail time. Scott thinks it's obvious that he was in the right, but he's not sure Welch will agree.
The bear knocked over the can, correct? Yes. And you're saying the lid came off? Yeah. Welch makes another note. The code does specify that the lid has to stay in place, even if the can is knocked over. Scott sighs.
Frustrated. He's done his best to secure his attractants. He bought a can he believed was up to code. He has an electric fence around his chickens and goats. But he feels like it's never enough for the fish and game folks. "'Look, I was acting as a public safety officer when I shot the bear, not as a homeowner. My neighbor said that this same bear charged him two weeks ago.'" Welch snaps, his notebook closed. "'What?'
Okay, well, all of the extenuating circumstances will be taken into consideration as we determine whether to file charges. Welch heads back to his car. Scott strides back into his house, slamming the door behind him. He doesn't care what Welch or anyone thinks of his actions. His only regret is that he didn't have his rifle handy. Then that bear would be dead and no longer a threat to anyone.
Fish and game biologist Carl Koch leans back in his chair in his home office. Rows of faces glower at him through his computer screen. It's late October 2020, and Koch is attending a Hainesboro meeting via Zoom. With COVID-19 still spreading, the borough meetings now take place online. But the topic on everyone's mind is not the pandemic. It's bears.
Residents feel that the state isn't helping them manage the problem, and they're furious. To Koch, it feels like the whole town thinks that he's driving these bears into Hanes himself. One of the town's assembly members lays into him. Look, Carl, I'm not afraid to call you out on this. You and the rest of Alaska Fish and Game haven't helped us at all.
At all. Koch watches as every head on his screen nods in agreement. He slams down his spacebar, unmuting himself. Come on! That's not fair! He rattles off all the ways he and the other employees of Fish and Game have helped Haynes. He himself has made several trips to Haynes to help patrol for problem bears. The department has lent electric fences to residents to secure livestock.
he's spent hours at task force meetings making recommendations on how to effectively secure all kinds of attractants. Unfortunately, many of our recommendations have not been heeded. But not one single citation has been issued. A resident protest that Al Koch ever talks about is citations and securing attractants. I've heard
that Fish and Game has the ability to cage and euthanize bears. Why don't you ever share any of those tools with us? Okay, we could set cages, but there's no guarantee we'd catch the right bears. And 26 bears have been killed so far this year. This has been way worse for bears than it's been for humans. Koch takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
antagonizing the local population is not helping anyone. Kott says he knows this is hard for everyone, but reminds residents that this has been a particularly bad couple years for the bears. The last two years have been some of the worst salmon runs they've ever experienced, and the bears' other main source of food, berries, have also been scarce. Without these two staples of the bears' diets, they've been desperate to find food.
Listen, winter is almost here. The bears should hibernate soon, and then we'll all get a break. And next year, their natural food sources will hopefully rebound. But as Koch logs off the meeting, the squares full of angry faces linger in his mind. He worries that if he's wrong and the problem gets worse, it'll mean bad things for both humans and bears.
biologist Anthony Krupe hikes through the woods outside Haines, staring at the ground. The area was recently hit with 16 inches of snow, and the ground is covered with the fresh white powder. Perfect for tracking bears. That's why the Alaska Department of Fish and Game sent him up here on this brisk, wintry day.
It's November 12th, 2020. Unlike most of the times Krupy is out looking for tracks, today he doesn't want to find any. He's hoping that the early snow means that most of the bears in the area have started to den up for the winter.
Fish and Game monitors several bears with tracking collars, and many of those have headed for higher elevations, a sign that they're preparing to hibernate. But they only have collars on a small percentage of bears in the region. There's no telling what the others might be doing. So Krupy is here to investigate.
He continues onward, maneuvering under the tall spruce trees and through the brush. His feet crunch over rocks and ice. The cold air stings his cheeks.
This has been a terrible year for bears in the area. Between the bears that were shot in defense of life and property and the ones shot during the normal hunting season, the coastal brown bear population has faced an almost 20% reduction over the course of a few months.
Brown bears in southeast Alaska usually start to hibernate for the winter at the end of November, with the last bears going into their dens by January. But the early snows might force them to bed down early, which would be good for both bears and people. Kruppi spots an impression in the snow ahead and scrambles toward it. When he gets closer, his stomach sinks. It's a bear track.
As he continues hiking, he spots more and more tracks, evidence of several bears in the area. If the bears are still active at this elevation, it means many are not denning up yet.
And if Haines residents don't secure their attractants, the bears will continue coming into town in search of food. Haines could be in for several more months of bear problems, and Krupe's not sure the bear population can withstand it.
This season, Instacart has your back-to-school. As in, they've got your back-to-school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back-to-school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.
They say opposites attract. That's why the Sleep Number Smart Bed is the best bed for couples. You can each choose what's right for you.
Whenever you like. You like a bed that feels firm, but they want soft? Sleep Number does that. You want to sleep cooler while they like to feel warm? Sleep Number does that too. Sleep Number smart beds also learn how you sleep and provide you with personalized insights to help you sleep even better. You have to feel it to believe it. Find the bed that's for both of you, only at a Sleep Number store.
Nine out of ten couples say they sleep better on a Sleep Number smart bed. Time to catch some Zs. J.D. Power ranks Sleep Number number one in customer satisfaction with mattresses purchased in-store. And now, during Sleep Number's biggest sale of the year, save 50% on the Sleep Number limited edition smart bed, plus special financing for a limited time. For J.D. Power 2023 award information, visit jdpower.com slash awards. Only at a Sleep Number store or sleepnumber.com. See store for details.
Bart Pichul pushes open the car door and jumps out. His friend Graham Craft stands in the parking lot, organizing his gear. Bart stretches his arms above his head and looks up at the mountain in front of him. Behind them is Chilkoot Lake, frozen over and backed by snow-covered trees and towering peaks. He grins broadly. He moved here seven years ago, but sometimes he still can't believe he actually lives here.
It's the morning of February 6th, 2021. Bart and Kraft are at the Chilkoot Lake Recreation Area, 10 miles from downtown Haines. Once their friend Jeff Moskowitz joins them, they'll set out.
They're planning to climb up over 2,000 feet, well above the tree line, in search of untracked powder. Then Bart will snowboard down while Kraft and Moskowitz will ski. No chairlifts, no established trails, just pure backcountry, exactly the way Bart likes it.
You ready to run the mountain, girl? You ready? You want to run the mountain? Let's go! Let's go!
Sirku is a regular on these trips. When Kraft races down the mountain on his alpine skis, his dog will happily sprint through the snow alongside him. Kraft runs a ski shop in Haines, where Bart works in the winter. The two of them know nearly every ski run around Haines.
Soon, Moskowitz pulls up in his car. He grabs his pack and skis and joins his friends. Let's head up to the ridgeline today. Once we get to the top, we'll check the conditions and we can pick the route we want to take down. The other guy's not. Moskowitz is a forecaster with the Haines Avalanche Education Center, so they trust his judgment when it comes to finding the safest routes through fresh powder.
Bart slings his pack onto his shoulders and grabs his snowboard. It's a split board, meaning it breaks into two pieces that can be worn as skis to ascend the mountain. It makes the trip up faster and easier than hiking through deep snow while carrying the board. All right.
Everyone have everything? Extra layers? InReaches? InReaches are satellite communication devices. There's no cell service out here, so if anything happens, their InReaches will be the only way to contact help. Bart winks at Moskowitz. Mosky, I know you're geared up. Moskowitz has a reputation for overpacking, bringing more equipment than they could possibly need, and his friends love to needle him about it.
Moskowitz rolls his eyes and confirms that he's ready to go. "Okay, let's hit the mountain!" Bart walks to the edge of the parking area, splits his snowboard into two, and steps into the bindings. He's ready for a great day in the backcountry.
Bart Pichul tries to push forward on his split board. He's following the tracks in the snow left by Graham Kraft as he ascended the mountain. Kraft and his dog Zirku are somewhere ahead, out of sight. But as Bart puts weight on his foot, his board slides back down. It's a steep grade, and beneath the powder is a hard layer of ice. Bart can't seem to get any purchase.
It's now a little afternoon. Bart, Kraft and Moskowitz have been out in the backcountry for a few hours. Spruce and hemlock trees shade the snow. The sky is bright blue. It's a beautiful day, but the conditions are tough. Between the ice and the steepness of the grade, it's slow going. Bart tries again to move forward.
but slips back on the ice. Ahead of him, Moskowitz is having the same trouble. Bart releases his right foot from the binding and calls out to Moskowitz. "Ah, there's too much ice. I'm gonna have to hike the rest of the way." "Yeah, me too. I don't know how Graham is managing it." "Yeah, but you know Graham. He's a beast on those skis."
Bart steps out of the bindings of a split board and straps the two sides of the board onto his backpack. They angle together to form an A-frame shape above his head. Now only in his boots, Bart walks carefully up the slope, following the boot prints made by Moskowitz about 20 yards ahead of him.
Then he notices something brown and furry emerge from the snow. At first, he thinks it's a porcupine. But as the brown furry creature gets bigger and bigger, he realizes this is no porcupine.
It's a coastal brown bear. Bart has taken bear safety training. He's lived in bear country for years. He knows that what he does next will determine whether this is a bear encounter or a bear attack.
First, he makes himself look as big as possible by extending his arms wide over his head. Even though every nerve in his body is telling him to run, he stands his ground. Bears can easily outrun humans. His only chance is to stay put and not act like prey. Next, he speaks loudly to the bear. "Bear! Bear! Go away, bear!"
Go away. Go away. This is another tip from his bear safety training. Yelling at bears will only startle them or make you seem like a threat. But if they hear your voice and recognize you as human, they're less likely to attack. Bart keeps talking at the bear. Just beyond it, he can make out Moskowitz, who is watching, horrified.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bart sees something else moving. He glances over quickly and his blood runs cold. It's a cub. This is the worst case scenario. A mother bear will do anything to protect her baby. He stretches his arms out as wide as he possibly can and makes one last desperate attempt to scare off the bear.
Go away, bear! Go away! Go away! Further up the slope, Jeff Moskowitz stares helplessly as his friend Bart Pichul faces off with a large brown bear. Bart stands with his hands spread wide above his head, speaking slowly and firmly at the bear. Moskowitz is sure it's taking all of Bart's willpower not to turn and run.
The bear moves slowly and stiffly, and Moskowitz realizes it's groggy. He and Kraft must have woken it up from hibernation when they passed over its den. Bart keeps talking. Go away, bear. Bear? Bear! Go away! Before Moskowitz can make a move or even speak, the bear shakes its head. It's like a switch is flipped.
The grogginess that Moskowitz had noticed moments earlier is gone. The bear is fully awake now. Suddenly, it charges at Bart. Its powerful muscles ripple under its fur. Moskowitz watches, powerless to help.
Bart Pichul has no time to react as the mother bear runs straight at him. Before he knows it, her mouth clamps down on his left wrist. She lifts his 6'2", 200lb frame into the air like it's nothing, shaking him back and forth. Everything slows down. Bart feels like he's outside of himself, watching it all in slow motion.
He feels a growing nausea as his fingers on his left hand flop back and forth. Then the bear begins to slide down the mountain, taking Bart with her. It feels like they're flying over the ice. Bart bumps through the forest, his head bouncing against the icy ground. He's thankful for his helmet and the snowboard strapped to his back, protecting his head and neck. Finally, they skid to a stop.
But the bear's not done. She's now on top of him, a massive weight on his chest. He can only watch in shock as the bear opens her jaws. He feels her hot breath, then her teeth as she clamps down and tears at the side of his neck. Bart closes his eyes and goes limp. He wants the bear to understand that he's not a threat.
He doesn't intend any harm to her or her cub. He forces himself to stay still as the bear bites down over and over. On his right hip, his buttock, his right arm. He just hopes that playing dead doesn't end up with him being actually dead.
Graham Kraft veers around a log as he races down the mountain on his skis. The wind blows against his face and his heart pounds. His dog Circu sprints alongside him, her ears flying back.
Just moments ago, Kraft heard shouts of "bear" and then sounds of a struggle. He was a few hundred feet further up the mountain than his friends Bart Pichul and Jeff Moskowitz. As soon as he heard the shouts, he zoomed down toward the commotion. Kraft leans hard to his left to avoid something in the snow. As he zips by, he realizes it's a broken ski pole. Ahead, he spots a trail of blood in the trampled snow.
His mouth goes dry. He doesn't know what's happening, if his friends are still under attack or perhaps already dead.
Up ahead, he sees Moskowitz, who's strapping into his skis. Moskowitz is moving slowly and seems dazed, but looks unharmed. Kraft skis past him, feeling a rising sense of dread as he searches for any sign of Bart. As he comes down over a crest, Kraft sees Bart lying crumpled on the ground. Blood stains the snow around him.
There's no sign of a bear, but the damage it's done is apparent. Kraft comes to a stop next to Bart and pops out of his skis. He's shocked by what he sees.
Bart is covered in blood. His left wrist is askew from what appears to be a severe fracture. Kraft can see bite marks on his friend's neck, and there's blood everywhere. A sure sign of other bites hidden by Bart's clothing. Bart is muttering something. Kraft leans down to hear better. What did you say, buddy? I was...
Kraft understands. Bart clearly knows how badly he's hurt. He's saying they need a helicopter to medevac him to the nearest hospital, which is in Juneau, 90 miles away. Haynes' small clinic is not equipped to deal with injuries this severe. Kraft nods. Yeah, man. We're gonna get you to a helicopter. Don't worry.
He tries to sound confident, but he knows it could take a helicopter several hours to reach their location. And that's if they're lucky. Bart has major injuries. He could easily bleed out while they wait. And in the 10-degree weather, hypothermia is almost as big a danger. And then, of course, there's the bear. Kraft knows it could return at any moment.
This is episode one of our two-part series, Alaska Bear Attack. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this story, we recommend It's No Fun to Wake a Sleeping Bear, written by Caroline Van Hemert, originally published in Outside Magazine. I'm your host, Mike Corey.
Austin Ratcliffe wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Script consulting by Caroline Van Hemert. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design by Othouse Audio. Our
Our production coordinator is Desi Blaylock. Produced by Alida Rosansky, Matt Almos, and Emily Frost. Our managing producer is Matt Gant. Our senior managing producer is Tonja Thingpen. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.
Hey, podcast listeners, have you heard you can listen to your favorite podcasts ad-free? That's good news. With Amazon Music, you have access to the largest catalog of ad-free top podcasts included with your Prime membership. To start listening, download the Amazon Music app for free or go to amazon.com slash ad-free podcasts. That's amazon.com slash ad-free podcasts to catch up on the latest episodes without the ads.