5 . . .

Last night in the middle of a conversation about everyone's favorite topic, my buddy threw in this comment: "for Gillie, sex is actually fishing." I wonder if he says such things to try and psychologically eliminate me from the competition, which is of course useless. I may do a lot of catch and release, but that don't mean I ain't fishing . . . . Anyway, I hastened to correct him: the two activities exist on parallel courses, and do not necessarily replace one another. It's a Both-And situation, not an Either-Or.

I do not like Either-Ors.

Wieirdly enough, one of the best dates I had all last year was at Brooks Camp. Yes, this says something about the intensity of my social life here at home. But it is also a compliment to Sophia, who was one HECK of a cute and outgoing Chinese girl from Seattle. Brooks Camp is a social scene, and Sophia was a big player in it, palling around with the cool young folk who work there and also befriending some of the approachable other tourists, like myself. Sophia had the thing wired -- she knew everyone's name, and she knew which night the cool bar guy was working, the one who would pour free beers and mix very strong drinks. So she and I got mildly drunk one night and hiked off to sit on a log and enjoy a magical midnight dusk together.

Obviously, hanging out at Brooks Camp is not the wilderness portion of my trip. I think of it as the banquet portion: breakfast buffet, endless coffee refills around a big fireplace, and all the sockeye and trout you can fish for. The catch is that you are surrounded by people at the food buffet, and surrounded by bears at the fish buffet. Alaskan locals sometimes disdainfully call Brooks "Camp Hey Bear" because all the tourists, many of them flown in just for a day trip, constantly call out that phrase as the park rangers instruct. Nobody wants a run-in, and as far as I know, there never has been one.

But still, the scene is a fairly crazy one. I find it a miracle that all those bears and all those people can coexist in such a small space. The rangers and their training helps. An electric fence around the campground helps. Elevated trails with railings and gates help. And for me, it helps a whole lot that most of the tourists never go off those trails, and I am generally free and alone when I wade into the marshy ground around "The Oxbow" -- a super prime fishing spot where I back off and make a large circle around each bear that wants to fish in the same spot as me. It helps, again, that the bears are very itinerant fishers, and the move constantly from spot to spot, letting me fish in between. With so many fish around, the bears tolerate each other at much closer distances than they normally would (and so they also tolerate the people, to whom they are highly "habituated"). I feel the same way: with all those fish, and all those bears, I just relax and go with the flow for a few days.

It helps a great deal to know that after a few days I'll paddle away and be the only naked ape in a territory the size of Alameda county.

This year I'm going to try and sleep during the day, like the more bashful bears, and fish and be active during the dim light of the night. Ideally, I'll wake up around the cocktail hour, eat a big buffet dinner, and then fish until breakfast, at which point I will retreat to my tent and hibernate. This may put a crimp in my Brooks social life, so we'll see how it goes. Maybe I'll give up that plan and just hang. I have met and talked with a lot of interesting people around the fireplace there, and not just Sophia. I remember an older lady who was a dignified member of the safari set (read, very wealthy) but was also extremely friendly and a great conversationalist. Also there was a really smart middle-age guy who, oddly enough, really did turn out to be a rocket scientist in his day job. I told him about using my mp3 player to listen to a book-on-tape
of Thus Spake Zarathustra whenever the water was calm enough to paddle safely that way, and he understood: "My God, that must be a rapture!"

Bach and Meshuggah are also rapturous to listen to while paddling, I add.

Another thing that may eat into my Brooks time is a plan to try and get my kayak and gear up the rough road to Brooks Lake and try those waters as well as Naknek Lake's. The river is the thing that has diverted me from such efforts in the past. Maybe it will again. But I just loaded up some helpful waypoints for Brooks Lake, and I just bet there are some fatties swimming around in those vicinities . . . but crap, there are still several long-ass days to kill before I can even start trying to find out. Now that I have blogged my -5 blog, I may have to drive up and fish the shad for the last time in 2009. That, or have some great sex.

I believe I will go fishing. :)