The fish — pink and coho salmon — are everywhere, and the Kodiak brown bears are here to feed. Carcasses litter the banks where the bears have left them, filets torn free and half eaten, skeletons scattered along the shore.
In the first seven photos, I’m standing in the prime spot this bear wants, and while he’s fishing his way toward me, he’s paying attention, eyeing me, and since I’m holding my fly rod in one hand, fighting my first coho ever, I’ve got a choice to make — if he keeps coming, 40 feet and closing . . . do I ditch the rod or ditch the camera as I go for my piddling little can of bear spray?