Never Say Die by Will Hobbs

hand, in case that big fella is still in the area.”
    Then and there, he showed me how to use the pepper spray and the bear bangers. Following his lead, I rigged my bear-banger pouch and pepper-spray holster on my belt. They made me feel like I was armed, sort of. Ryan said, “Were the tracks of that grolar bear bigger than these?”
    â€œBy a lot.”
    â€œYou know what? At this moment that grolar bear of yours is the rarest animal on earth. Photos of one in the wild would be the coup of a lifetime.”
    I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t want to encourage him. This was crazy talk.
    â€œYou know what,” Ryan continued. “With the quote in my article to the effect that the grolar bear is probably a product of climate change, I have no doubt that a photo of one would land on the cover of National Geographic .”
    â€œDon’t even think about it,” I said. “You have no idea. That bear would tear you limb from limb.”
    Big grin. “After I had taken his picture, leaving you to write the article.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    â€œNo worries, just kidding.”
    We ate a quick lunch; Ryan was anxious to start down the river. He gave me a lightweight pair of rafting gloves and we went to work. When the boat was all rigged, he gave me a safety talk. As he finished that up, I pointed to my life jacket on the ground and asked what the stubby knife in the plastic sheath was all about. It was mounted chest high and upside down. “That’s in case you find yourself underwater and tangled in rope,” he said. “I’ve never seen it happen.”
    I reached for my life jacket. Ryan said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m cooking with this bug shirt over my fleece shirt and thermal underwear. I’m stowing my bug shirt. Out on the river, we’ll be plenty warm with our life jackets on, and the bugs won’t follow us over the freezing-cold water.”
    I followed suit, then put on my life jacket and snugged the cinches tight. “That’s the best life jacket money can buy,” Ryan said. “Doesn’t matter if you can’t swim.”
    â€œI can swim pretty good.”
    â€œReally? Where did you learn?”
    â€œIndoor pool in Aklavik.”
    â€œReally? Aklavik’s got a swimming pool?”
    â€œThe elders thought it was important. Too many of us used to drown.”
    Ryan went aboard and took his seat on the big white cooler located back of center in the raft. He put his hands on the oars. “Ready when you are,” he called. “Let’s go find the caribou.”
    I untied from the scrub willows, coiled and secured the rope, and shoved the boat into water deep enough for him to begin working the oars. Then I came aboard, keeping low. I settled into position on the cross tube in the front of the raft as the current caught us and we headed downstream.
    I looked over my shoulder and found Ryan putting his back to the oars with a smile that radiated deep satisfaction. “So glad to have you with me, little brother,” he said.
    Greenish like Ryan’s eyes, the river ran fast. It was about a hundred feet wide, and I could see every stone on the bottom. The spot where we launched was slipping quickly behind. Downstream, the mountain slopes on the left side descended into the river, here and there covered with dark spruce. Off to the right side the valley floor was open and treeless, the tundra dotted with ponds.
    The land was huge and empty-looking, but I knew it was far from empty. The animals were out there. I told my eyes to go into hunting mode. I wanted to be the one who spotted the first wildlife.
    It didn’t take long. As the raft turned a corner around the flank of the first mountain, I spied something downstream. “Bear!” I yelled. “Bear swimming the river!”
    â€œWhere?” big brother yelled back.
    â€œLeft side, a couple hundred yards ahead.”
    Tucking