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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. Jeff Moskowitz leans forward on his skis, heart pounding as he races down the steep mountainside.
He fears the worst. That he's about to find his friend's dead body crumpled in the snow.
It's just after 12.30 p.m. on February 6th, 2021. Moments ago, Moskowitz witnessed a massive brown bear attack his friend Bart Pichul. Pichul, Moskowitz, and another friend, Graham Craft, had been backcountry skiing and snowboarding near Haines, Alaska. They'd accidentally skied over the bear's den, awakening both her and her cub.
During the attack, both Bart and the bear slid down the mountain, out of Moskowitz's sight. While Moskowitz was getting into his skis, he saw Kraft zip by on his way to help. Now Moskowitz's stomach flip-flops as he skis over a crest. And then he sees Bart, curled up in a ball, blood spilling into the snow from his neck.
Blood is also seeping through his parka and snow pants. But he's alive. Kraft kneels beside him, trying to assess his injuries. Kraft's dog, Sirku, patrols the area around Bart, keeping watch. Moskowitz comes to a stop a few feet away, staring in shock at his wounded friend. This can't be happening, he thinks. This was supposed to be a routine ski trip.
Moskowitz prides himself on being prepared for anything, but it had never occurred to him that they might encounter a bear. It's the dead of winter. Bears should be hibernating. Kraft looks up, his eyes wide with fear. Mosky, call for help. Moskowitz nods, then strips off his backpack and pulls out his inReach. It's a satellite communication device that looks like an old chunky cell phone.
They're far out of cellular range, so this is the only way to reach out for help. The inReach beeps to life. Moskowitz's hand shakes as he hits the SOS button, which will send out a distress call with their GPS coordinates to emergency responders. Next, he sends a text to his girlfriend. InReaches don't have voice calling capability, and
and they can only send and receive texts from devices they've been paired with. So Moskowitz's girlfriend is their lifeline to the outside world. He tells her Bart has been mauled by a bear, and they need help right away. Bart moans. Kraft looks up at Moskowitz.
I think he has more injuries, but I can't take off his clothes to check. He'll freeze. It's ten degrees. They both know that hypothermia is as great a risk as bleeding out. Bart looks at Moskowitz. His eyes are wide and unfocused, but he speaks with determination.
If I die, the passwords to my computer are on a post-it note taped under my desk. Hey, Bart, don't talk like that. You're not going to die. Bart ignores him. He recites his social security number and his mother's phone number. Tell my mom I love her.
Fear courses through Moskowitz's body. Despite his reassurances, Moskowitz worries his friend may in fact die. He's badly injured. There's no way for them to safely try to move him, and it may take too long for help to reach them here.
Moskowitz lightly slaps himself on the cheek and orders himself to pull it together. The only way Bart has a chance of surviving is if he and Kraft are completely focused. Moskowitz owes it to his friend to do everything he can to save his life. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder.
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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. On the afternoon of February 6th, 2021, Bart Pichul was mauled by a bear while he was backcountry snowboarding in the mountains near Haines, Alaska. The attack left him with life-threatening injuries in a remote area where help was hours away.
As they waited for rescue, Bart Peachewl's companions, Graham Craft and Jeff Moskowitz, had to use all their wits and outdoors experience to keep their friend alive in below freezing temperatures. They also had to stay vigilant, knowing the bear could return at any time. This is Episode 2, Three Long Hours.
Jeff Moskowitz reaches into his backpack and pulls out a heavy down coat. He drapes it over Bar Pichul, who groans and mutters something Moskowitz can't understand.
Bart's face is pale and blood is smeared across his nose and cheeks. More blood seeps from deep puncture wounds all over his body onto the white snow. His most gruesome injury is his left wrist, where the bear picked him up and shook him around like a rag doll. It's clearly a compound fracture. Moskowitz can see his wrist bone poking through the skin.
Beside them, Graham Kraft empties Bart's backpack. Once the pack is empty, he'll roll it up tight to make a splint for Bart's wrist. It's a technique taught in wilderness first aid classes. Moskowitz tries to reassure Bart that he's going to be okay. "Hang in there, Bart," Bart moans.
Moskowitz checks his in-reach. There's been no response to the text he sent to his girlfriend. He hopes it went through. He also hopes the SOS message got out. Best case scenario, Moskowitz knows it will be hours before anyone will be able to reach them. They're too high up in the mountain for anyone to arrive quickly by land, and the nearest Coast Guard helicopter is in Sitka, 150 miles away.
Kraft's dog, Sirku, paces in front of them, her ears alert, nose in the air. Moskowitz trusts that she'll sound the alarm if the bear returns. Bart's teeth chatter. He's still cold. Moskowitz pulls out a mylar blanket and a bivy sack, a body-sized bag that provides protection from the elements. Backpackers and mountain climbers sometimes use them instead of a tent.
Moskowitz's friends often tease him about how much gear he packs. But today, it's paying off. Kraft scoots closer to Bart. He's transformed the backpack into a makeshift splint. "Okay, Bart. This is gonna hurt like hell, but I gotta splint that arm. It's the only way to protect it, and it should ease the pain… a little." Bart nods, but his eyes are wide with fear.
Kraft carefully slides the rolled-up backpack under Bart's arm. Bart screams in pain. Moskowitz squeezes his fist tight as he watches. It's terrible seeing his friend suffer like this. Kraft grimaces, but keeps going. Just about done.
Using bandages from his first aid kit, Kraft secures the backpack to Bart's arm, immobilizing it. Done. Bart looks straight up, panting, his eyes glassy from the pain. But the splint seems to be helping, at least for now.
Moskowitz feels his in-reach buzz. He pulls it out. It's a text message from his girlfriend. She got his message and called the State Trooper's office in Haines. It turns out they had not gotten his SOS message, but she told them what happened and gave them their GPS coordinates. Help should be on the way soon.
Moskowitz reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos of warm water. He uncaps the lid and pours a small amount of water into Bart's mouth. Bart swallows and murmurs a thank you. Moskowitz looks up at a patch of sky through the tall trees that surround them. It's early afternoon, but sunset is at 4.30 this time of year.
He wonders if help will arrive before dark. If it doesn't, they might have to spend the night out here. And he's pretty sure Bart won't make it that long. At the Public Safety Department headquarters in Haines, an Alaska State trooper enters GPS coordinates into his computer.
The map zooms in on a remote spot, 1,500 feet up a mountain above Chilkoot Lake, 10 miles outside Haines. It's early afternoon. The trooper has just hung up with the girlfriend of a man on a backcountry ski trip.
One of the man's friends was mauled by a bear. They need help getting him to medical care. At first, the trooper couldn't believe it. Bears typically don't attack people in the middle of the winter. That's when they're hibernating. But a lot of things about bears have seemed unbelievable recently. For months over the previous summer and fall, numerous coastal brown bears had come into town looking for food.
Biologists with the Department of Fish and Game said that it had been a bad year for berries and salmon, two staples of the brown bear diet. Deprived of their usual food sources, the bears broke into garages, storage units, freezers, cars, dumpsters, anywhere they thought they could find food. They caused thousands of dollars of damage, and numerous people in town had come face to face with bears.
It was just a matter of time before an encounter turned into an attack. But a bear woken from her den in winter was not the kind of attack anyone was expecting. Whatever the circumstances, now that it's happened, it's the trooper's job to figure out how to get this injured snowboarder off the mountain and into a hospital.
The trooper stares at the map and beckons to a colleague. "We got a guy attacked by a bear, so probably severe bleeding, plus apparently he fell, so possible head and neck injuries. What are our transport options?" The colleague squints at the map, then shakes his head. "Helicopter's the only way. You sure?"
There's only one helicopter in the area equipped to provide a rescue and medical evacuation. It's a US Coast Guard chopper and it's based at their station in Sitka, 150 miles south of Haines. It'll take at least an hour and a half for the helicopter to make the trip. And that's if it's available right when the trooper makes the request. If it's already in use, a response could take hours.
But the trooper's colleague nods. "I know that mountain. There's no way to safely transport someone with potential head and neck injuries down that slope." They both know that Haines doesn't have the facilities to treat anyone with such severe injuries. There is only a small medical clinic and an all-volunteer ambulance corps. Anyone with a major medical emergency has to be evacuated to the capital, Juneau, which is only accessible by water or air.
And traveling the 80 miles by air is the fastest option. No matter what, they'll be needing a helicopter. The trooper picks up the phone and makes the call to the coast guard. He just hopes that the helicopter is available. Otherwise, he doesn't know how long this injured man is going to have to wait. And the longer he waits on that mountain, the less chance there is that he survives.
Graham Craft shivers despite his layers of clothing as he watches Sirku sniff the air. He's keeping a close eye on his big, golden-colored dog, looking for any sign from her that the bear is back. Next to him, Bart Pichul's teeth chatter. Besides his own winter clothes, he has an extra jacket, a space blanket, and a bivy sack on top of him. But it's not enough.
It's now, after one o'clock, just over half an hour since the attack. Kraft can't believe it's only been thirty minutes since he first heard his friend's terrified screams. And still, no word from rescuers about when they'll arrive. Bart groans. "I'm so cold," Kraft looks over at Moskowitz. "Moskie, do you have anything else in that clown car of a backpack of yours?"
It was incredible watching Moskowitz pull so much out of his bag. Kraft is never making fun of Moskowitz for overpacking again. But Moskowitz shakes his head. "We're using everything I brought with me." Kraft knows they have to figure out a way to keep Bart warm, or he's going to die. Kraft hears a strange sound, and his muscles tense. "Is that the bear?"
He looks around and breathes a sigh of relief. It's just Moskowitz, ripping pages from a small notebook. What are you doing? Moskowitz holds out a box of matches, making a fire. Kraft smiles as Moskowitz gathers sticks from the area around them. I'm glad I'm out here with you, Mosky. You're very resourceful. Dude...
Kraft frowns when he hears Bart try to speak. He's slurring his words. That could be a sign of hypothermia. They need to warm him up fast. Kraft slides over toward Bart. "I bet you don't get to be the little spoon very often, Bart. But today is your lucky day."
At 6'2", Bart is bigger than Kraft, but Kraft cozies up to his tall friend as best he can, taking care not to touch any of his major wounds. He presses his body up against Bart's. Moskowitz lights the fire. It provides a little more heat, and any bit of warmth is welcome. Kraft hopes that their body heat, along with Moskowitz's fire, is enough to keep them all from freezing.
Bart Pichul clenches his jaw as he tries not to scream in pain. Jeff Moskowitz and Graham Kraft are taking turns snuggling against him to keep him warm. The fire crackles a few feet away. The pain radiating from his wrist is more intense than anything Bart's ever felt before. He now understands where the term blinding pain comes from.
He takes a deep breath and tries to move the fingers on his left hand. Nothing happens. He tries again. Still no movement. In fact, even though his mangled wrist is in agony, he's not sure he can actually feel his fingers. A terrifying thought bubbles up inside him and bursts out of his mouth. "They're going to amputate my hand, aren't they?"
Kraft sits up and inspects Bart's left hand and wrist, then tries to reassure him. "No, your fingers are still pink. Blood is still circulating to them." But Bart doesn't register what Kraft just said. He's too busy trying to imagine what his life would look like with one hand.
He works as a carpenter and in the ski shop that Kraft owns in town. Jobs that require his hands, both his hands. And what about skiing and mountain climbing? How will he be able to keep doing those things? He doesn't want a life where he can't go out into the wild. He lets out a wail. Moskowitz gently rubs his shoulder.
Hey, hey. Modern medicine can work miracles. And I got an update on the in-reach. The rescue helicopter was out on a training mission, but they've called it back in. You just have to hang on a little longer. Craft nods. You have to think positive. Bart shakes his head. But I won't be able to pay for it.
Bart doesn't have health insurance. Even if he does make it off this mountain and the doctors do save his hand, he has no idea how he'd even pay the medical bills. It feels like no matter what happens, life as he knows it is over. Suddenly, Sirku lets out a low growl. Her ears twitch as she sniffs the air.
Bart's entire body goes tense and his heart pounds against his ribcage. The way Sirku is acting, it can only mean one thing. The bear is coming back.
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From the ground, Bart yells too, as best he can. His eyes dart around frantically. Moments ago, Kraft's dog, Circu, began growling and staring off into a thick grove of spruce trees nearby.
There's no way to know for sure what Sirku was reacting to, but it could be the bear. She might try to return to the den where she and her cub were sleeping when they disturbed her. And the best way to avoid another encounter is to make as much noise as possible so she steers clear of them. Kraft keeps an eye on Sirku. She's still on high alert. Kraft scans between the trees, looking for any sign of the bear.
He doesn't see anything, but that doesn't make him feel any safer. Kraft keeps pounding on his shovel and yelling at the top of his lungs after what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes. Circu relaxes. Moskowitz looks at Kraft. I think it's gone. Kraft slowly puts down his shovel. His knuckles ache from banging it. He still feels jumpy and overloaded on adrenaline.
It's almost 2:30 in the afternoon. He's been in hyper-vigilant mode for two hours, and they still don't know how much longer they'll have to wait for the helicopter. Kraft hears something rustle behind him. Bart moans in fear. Kraft whips around. "It's back!" Moskowitz looks around nervously, but shakes his head.
No, I think it was just the wind. Kraft checks Sirku. She seems unbothered. He notices branches swaying in the breeze. Yeah, yeah, you're probably right. Kraft tries to relax. He scratches Sirku's head. Good girl. Keep it up, okay? He's mentally and physically exhausted, but there's nothing they can do but keep waiting.
Jeff Moskowitz shields his eyes against the setting sun and tries to ignore the feeling of dread in his stomach. It's only 2:30 in the afternoon, but there's probably only two hours of daylight left. The sun sets early in the Alaska winter. Next to him, Kraft is regaling Bart with the story of his worst ever skiing wipeout.
They've been taking turns telling stories to pass the time and distract themselves from their predicament. Moskowitz has been starting to feel optimistic that Bart will pull through. He's never lost consciousness, and he's talking more. But once it gets dark, all bets are off.
Then the temperature will drop into the single digits. Moskowitz isn't sure they have enough gear to stay warm through the night. Plus, a helicopter rescue becomes much more difficult in the dark. Maybe even impossible.
Moskowitz feels his heart pounding as he thinks about the coming night. He looks down at Bart, who's trying to follow Kraft's story, but Moskowitz can see that his friend's face is pale, his cheeks hollow. He's a big guy, but he looks small and vulnerable in the cocoon of layers Moskowitz has wrapped him in. Kraft wraps up his story and nods to Moskowitz. "You're up, Mosky," Bart tries to smile.
It better be good. Moskowitz nods, about to launch in when his in-reach buzzes in his pocket. There's a message from his girlfriend. Moskowitz grins as he reads the text. Well, I got something better than a story of me falling on my ass. The Coast Guard helicopter has been refueled and it's on its way. ETA is one hour. Kraft lets out a victorious hoot. Bart manages a grin.
An hour? That's nothing. Moskowitz nods. He's relieved too. But he also knows that anything can happen in an hour. Especially when you're deep in the wilderness and the temperature is dropping. Bart Pichul counts to ten as an intense bolt of pain shoots from his wrist all the way up his arm and to his neck.
A few yards from him, Moskowitz is using his avalanche shovel to create a large flat circle in the snow. He and Kraft are taking turns at this task while the other one presses up against Bart to keep him warm. Bart isn't entirely sure why they're making a circle in the snow.
He thinks it might be to create a landing pad for the helicopter, since there's no real flat area around. Or maybe it's to make it easier for the Coast Guard crew to spot them from above. But Bart doesn't have the energy to ask questions. He's just trying to get through the next half hour before the helicopter is due to arrive. 30 minutes feels very short and impossibly long at the same time.
His mind races with worries as the minutes drag on. He's still worried about his hand, still worried about how much blood he's lost, worried about his medical bills, and what his future will look like. He's also worried about the bear. He doesn't want anything to happen to her.
If this had been a normal year, he wouldn't worry as much about the bear's fate. After all, Bart was very clearly in her territory. But the number of bears that have wandered into Haines in the past several months has put everyone on edge. Everyone's been scared that a bear would hurt a human, and now one has.
Bart is concerned that people won't care about the specifics of his attack and the fact that it has nothing to do with the bears who came into Haines. They might decide this bear needs to be dispatched on principle. He'd hate it if that happened. Bart believes that when you decide to live in a place like Haines and spend time in the wilderness, you're agreeing to certain risks, including the chance of getting mauled by a bear.
And he truly believes this bear chose not to kill him. He remembers the feeling of her teeth clamping down on various parts of his body. It hurt, of course, but he could tell she wasn't using her full force. She was just a concerned mother. Kraft looks over at him. What's that, buddy? I didn't hear you. Bart opens his eyes. He didn't realize he had spoken out loud. The bear...
She wasn't trying to hurt me, she just wanted to keep me away from her cub. "You're a good man," Barpechul. Another spasm of pain shoots through his arm. His whole body tenses up and he gasps. "Twenty-five more minutes," he tells himself. But it's small comfort. The future feels so uncertain, both for himself and for the bear.
Graham Kraft hugs his arms to his sides as his teeth chatter. He's so cold. Jeff Moskowitz snuggles next to Bart Pichul. They've stopped telling stories. Everyone is too exhausted to speak. They wait in silence.
Kraft looks at his watch. It's 3:20. Any minute now, the Coast Guard helicopter should arrive. But these last minutes of waiting have been agonizing. Every second feels like an hour.
Kraft's mind races with all that could still go wrong. What if there was a miscommunication about the GPS coordinates and the helicopter is looking for them in the wrong area? What if, God forbid, there was an accident and the helicopter crashed? But then, Kraft hears a mechanical whirr, faint but unmistakable in the deep wilderness.
He scrambles to his feet and snatches the bright orange bivy sack from on top of Bart. I'll give it back in a second. We gotta make sure they see us. Kraft holds up the bivy sack like a giant flag. Next to him, Moskowitz jumps up and down, waving his arms. The two of them shout, even though there's no way anyone on the helicopter can hear them over the roar of the propellers. Over here! Down here! We're here! Over here! We're right here!
The helicopter passes over them. They jump and scream, but it keeps going. Kraft can't believe it. "No! No! No! No! No!" But then, the helicopter comes back. It hovers directly over them, lowering toward them. A light from the underside of the helicopter shines down. Kraft squints from the brightness. As the chopper gets closer, the wind of its rotor blades becomes stronger.
The tall trees surrounding them bend and sway, groaning loudly. Sirku whines. Kraft sees Bart wince as snow kicks off the ground, stinging him in the face. The men's ski poles scatter across the snow. Moskowitz clings to a tree to keep the wind from knocking him off his feet. A voice echoes through a loudspeaker. We're sending down a swimmer.
Even for land rescues, the Coast Guardsman who descends from the helicopter is always called a swimmer. Moments later, Kraft sees him step out and shimmy down a cable towards them. The cable sways back and forth in the wind from the rotors. As the Guardsman reaches the ground, a huge feeling of relief washes over Kraft. There's someone here to help at last.
He fights back tears, surprised by the strength of his emotions. The Coast Guardsman introduces himself, shouting over the noise from the helicopter. He kneels down next to Bart. "I hear you dance with a bear. Just a little tango?" The Guardsman quickly assesses Bart's vital signs, taking his pulse and blood pressure, checking his breathing rate.
When he's done, he talks into his radio, requesting that the crew on board send down a litter. Kraft watches as a human-shaped basket descends from the helicopter. As the litter makes its way down, the guardsman explains to Bart what's going to happen next. Alright, as soon as the litter's on the ground, I'm going to strap you in it, but don't worry. I'll tie you in really tight, and then my guys on board are going to hoist you up.
Bart gulps. Kraft doesn't blame him. That helicopter is a long way off the ground. The Coast Guardsman continues. He explains that they'll fly Bart to Juneau, where a waiting ambulance will take him to the hospital. Bart nods. The Guardsman looks over at Kraft and Moskowitz. Either of you guys in pain? Lost feeling in any extremities? Both Kraft and Moskowitz tell him no. He quickly takes their vital signs.
Great. You both seem to be in one piece. The litter reaches the ground. Kraft watches as the Coast Guardsman straps Bart into it. He works with reassuring efficiency. It's clear he's done this before. When Bart is secure, the Guardsman radios up that they're ready to go. Kraft leans forward and rubs Bart's shoulder. Stay strong, man. Moskowitz gives him a thumbs up. You got this. Bart looks at them.
His eyes glisten with tears. "Thank you for everything." The helicopter crew retracts the cable, and Kraft and Moskowitz watch as the litter ascends, twisting in tight circles as it makes its way up. Kraft can't even imagine what Bart is feeling right now. As soon as the litter is inside the helicopter, the cable comes back down. The guardsman turns to Kraft and Moskowitz.
There's not enough room for the two of you in the helicopter. You'll have to ski back down. That okay? Kraft and Moskowitz assure him they'll be fine. The guardsman nods. Good luck. We'll take good care of your friend. I promise. The coast guardsman secures himself to the cable and is hoisted up. And with one last blast of wind from its rotors, the helicopter banks right and heads for Juneau.
When it's gone, the mountainside falls eerily silent. Kraft's ears still ring from the noise of the rotors. He looks around at their scattered gear and the blood-stained snow where Bart lay for hours. They did it. They kept their friend alive until help came. Kraft feels himself start to crash, the adrenaline draining from his bloodstream. Moskowitz looks at him.
"You ready to ski home?" Kraft nods. He's more than ready. But returning home will be no small feat. It's getting dark. They're tired. They're distracted, worried about Bart and what the doctors will find. They need to make it 1,500 feet down a steep grade through dense forest over icy ground. And there's still a bear out there. They got Bart safely off the mountain,
Now, before darkness falls, they need to get themselves off it too.
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Jeff Moskowitz shifts his weight onto his left ski, angling himself away from a tree. The forest is dense here, and it takes all of Moskowitz's concentration to maneuver through the trees without hitting one. He speaks loudly as he goes. Hey bear, we're coming down the mountain, bear. Here we come.
Moskowitz knows that the helicopter likely scared off the bear, but he's not taking any chances. Graham Craft skis a few yards ahead. His dog, Sirku, runs alongside him. It's now after 5 p.m., and the sky is dark. Their headlamps light the way in front of them.
Bart Pichul should be at the hospital in Juneau by now. Moskowitz hopes that he's doing okay. He wonders if the surgeons will be able to save his hand. But he can't think about it too much. Moskowitz and Kraft have at least another hour of skiing before they reach their cars. A fallen tree stretches out in front of him.
The only way past it is over it. He leans forward and launches off the log like a ski jump, and then lands with a hard thud. Suddenly, his avalanche airbag explodes from his backpack. The hard landing must have triggered the CO2 canister that inflates it. It billows out behind his neck. The giant airbag is designed to help an avalanche victim stay close to the surface.
Ahead of him, Kraft stops and looks back. "You okay, Mosky?" Moskowitz nods and pulls off his backpack. The airbag bops him in the cheek. "I'm fine. I just gotta pack this thing back up. It's gonna take a minute. Sorry, man." He deflates the airbag and stuffs it into his backpack. It's a lengthy process and feels even longer in the frigid evening air. He's starting to feel like he's never going to get off this mountain.
Graham Kraft sighs with relief as he pops out of his ski bindings and steps onto the pavement of the parking area. He's so glad to be back. Moskowitz gets out of his skis next to him, looking just as relieved and exhausted as Kraft.
It's nearly 6pm. All Kraft wants to do is go home, see his wife and young daughter, get an update on Bart, eat some food, and crawl into bed. Sirku runs across the parking lot to Bart's car and sits down in front of it. Kraft tries to call her back. Here girl, come on. But Sirku just whines, refusing to move from in front of Bart's car. It's like she knows Bart's supposed to be here.
Kraft jumps at the sound of a car door shutting. He looks across the parking lot and sees a police cruiser he hadn't noticed in the rush to get out of his skis. A Haines police officer greets them. You the guys whose friend was mauled by a bear? The officer asks a few questions, then gets in his cruiser and drives off. The guys load into Moskowitz's car.
Kraft finally convinces Sirku to abandon her post at Bart's car. And they head out. The lake and the mountains recede behind them. The northern lights dance overhead. About halfway back into town, Moskowitz's phone buzzes. It's an alert sent by the police. It warns residents of an aggressive brown bear near Chilkoot Lake. Moskowitz's mouth goes dry.
This is exactly what Bart feared. Bart Pichul blinks open his eyes and takes in his surroundings. He's in a white room, lying in bed. A chorus of beeps chime around him. Pale sunlight shines in through the window, and a sign on the wall displays the date. February 7th, 2021. It slowly comes back to him.
The helicopter ride to Juneau, the frantic bustle when he arrived at the hospital and was whisked into surgery, counting backwards from ten, and then everything going black. You're awake! Bart startles at the sound of a woman's voice. He turns his head, groaning at the stiffness of his neck. But then he grins when he sees Beth, one of his best friends from Haines, sitting in a chair next to his bed.
"What are you doing here?" "I got on a plane to Juneau as soon as I heard. I didn't want you to wake up alone." Bart fights back tears. The way his friends have cared for him over the past 24 hours is overwhelming. Beth smiles at him. "The doctors say that you're doing really well." Bart looks down and gulps. His whole left arm is encased in thick bandages. He can't feel his hand. His heart races.
What about my... He trails off, unable to complete the question. But Beth understands what he's asking. They saved your hand. Bart lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes in relief. There's a bunch of pins in there right now, and you'll need another surgery to take them out. It may never be 100% again, but you have two hands. Bart nods. As long as I'm able to tie my shoes and grip my ski pole...
i'll be happy beth grins happy to hear his optimism bart's cell phone buzzes beth nods at it it's been going off all morning he gropes at it with his right hand when he turns on the screen he sees hundreds of notifications old co-workers friends acquaintances from haines friends and family back in poland are all checking in on him craft and moskowitz have set up a gofundme for him to pay his medical bills
It's already over half funded. Tears stream down Bart's cheeks. He never expected this amount of love and support. Despite everything that happened to him over the past 24 hours, he feels unbelievably lucky. He just hopes the bear is as lucky as he is.
Alaska Department of Fish and Game biologist Carl Koch clicks through a set of photos on his computer screen and shakes his head. He thought it couldn't be true, but these are definitely bear tracks. It's late February 2021. A few days ago, Koch got a call about a woman being bit by a bear when she used an outhouse behind her brother's yurt near Chilkat Lake.
As soon as she sat down, she was nipped on the rear end. She ran out, screaming and bleeding. Her brother claimed that when he went to inspect the outhouse, he'd seen a large bear's head filling the hole of the toilet. At first, Koch assumed the report was mistaken. Bears were sometimes spotted near outhouses in the spring and summer, but not during the winter, and certainly not underneath one.
He was sure that the woman had been bitten by a wolverine or a mink. Definitely not a bear. But as Koch looks at the photos of the tracks, he can't deny it. This was indeed a bear. In this case, a black bear, the other species common to the Haines area. A feeling of dread settles over Koch. Fortunately, the woman's injury was minor, just a small puncture wound. But it's the bigger picture that has Koch concerned.
Just a couple weeks earlier, a snowboarder named Bart Pichul was mauled in the backcountry. Two bear attacks in one month? In the dead of winter? It's unheard of.
Koch has to put out a warning that bears are still active in the area and that people need to be on alert. He knows area residents are going to be upset. The past two years have been rife with bear encounters. Residents have endured thousands of dollars of property damage thanks to hungry bears looking for food. And now two people have been injured, one severely injured.
The bears have suffered even more. Koch and his colleagues at the Department of Fish and Game have noted a 20% decline in the brown bear population already due to bears being shot in defense of life and property. He fears that this year-round activity will only lead to more bears being killed.
But, like it or not, the climate is changing, affecting the bears' food sources. As a result, bear behavioral patterns are changing too. Humans are going to have to adapt to a new way of living alongside bears in southeastern Alaska. Koch just hopes that it doesn't spell doom for the bears.
By late spring of 2021, Bart Pichul was back in the mountains near his home. The pins were removed from his wrist, and he underwent physical therapy. While he still carries the scars of the attack, his love of Hanes and the backcountry never wavered.
Jeff Moskowitz continues to pack more gear than he expects to need. His friends no longer tease him about it. And any time they're in the backcountry now, all three men check more carefully for signs of bear dens. Much to Bart Pichul's relief, Department of Fish and Game officials decided not to track down or dispatch the bear who attacked him. They decided she was simply doing what bears do in winter –
defending her den and her cub. In 2021, fish and game biologists, including Carl Koch, continued to train Haines residents on how to effectively secure the attractants bears are drawn to, such as food, livestock, and garbage. Stronger laws were enacted, requiring people to secure food waste.
Heath Scott continues to serve as the police chief of Haynes. He was not charged for shooting the bear that broke into his garage. The story of Haynes is not unique. Bear sightings and bear killings have increased in many towns throughout southeastern Alaska. And it's not just bears. All over the U.S. and around the world, encounters with humans and wild animals are growing more common.
The Bay Area in California has reported an increase of coyote activity in cities as a result of the state's extreme drought.
More sharks have been spotted along both the east and west coasts over the past few years, which scientists attribute to rising ocean temperatures. As the climate changes, animals will adapt their behavior. Humans will need to adapt as well, if we want to continue to coexist. On our next episode, I'll speak with Alaska-based writer and wildlife biologist Caroline Van Hemert.
She first wrote about Bart's story for Outside Magazine. Her latest book, The Sun is a Compass, chronicles her 4,000-mile journey into the Alaskan Arctic.
This is episode two 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 Rackless 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 production coordinator is Desi Blaylock.
Produced by Alida Rozanski, Matt Almos, and Emily Frost. Our managing producer is Matt Gant. Our senior managing producer is Tonja Thinkpad. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery.
The missiles are coming.
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