I will never forget the first time I walked with wolves. It was one of those highly spiritual, momentous occasions that becomes part of your personal imprint. That energy will always stay with me and influence who I am, as well as who I become... even though I had a few preceding encounters.
I remember one trip in particular, coming up over a pass above treeline on the Kenai Peninsula. I was working on a remote trail crew, maintaining 250 miles of foot trail. It was hard and rewarding work... and we saw much more wildlife than human traffic. It was a great place to live and work when you're a hermit at heart.
That day we got to watch a grey wolf, trotting around the high tundra, moving away from our three person brigade as we approached with heavy backpacks and light hearts. The beauty and silence of that high valley was fantastic, and it seemed just right to be sharing it with such a creature.
The second happening was a couple of years later, when I was living in a yert on my homestead while still building my cabin. I woke in the morning to fresh snow in early April. My puppy Mowgli was sleeping next to me, and my first awareness of that day was his low growl.
I got right up and grabbed my shotgun and peeked out the door to see what I could see. And there I was face-to-face with a small black female wolf. She was sitting on her haunches not 6 feet from my tent door. We spoke for a short while, and then she arced off in a wide circle... stepping away into the wild.
It was that same spring that brought the experience. I was doing a rough bush survey of the perimeters of my land, tromping through the bushes with a compass in hand, tying strings on branches to mark my path.
When I came to the big swamp, I looked up to see a large white male wolf sitting on a tussock. He was hunting voles. And as soon as we saw each other, he and my dog Sancho started to approach each other. I didn't know if he was going to stop when he got to my dog, or keep coming for me. So I looked around for a tree to climb, not knowing what to expect.
My heart was pounding, and there was nothing but snarly black spruce around. I had no where to go. And then the dance began. As the wolf came closer, Sancho dropped back. Then Sancho moved forward again, and the wolf retreated. And so it went, as I calmed down and stopped to admire the magnificent beauty around me.
There I was, beneath the gaze of Castle Mountain. Nothing made by man in my sight, only wild country and an eerily wild predator in my reach. Finally, the white wolf feinted back, beyond the trees bordering the swamp. And so I continued my survey.
Several times over the next hour, I looked up from my compass to see him a few dozen yards off, watching me... shadowing me as I walked quietly through the open forest. Then he'd make a half circle and disapper, only to reappear minutes later.
Even though we regularly see their tracks on the trails and riverbars, it was to be a few years before the next wolf sighting. This time Ben and I were at Camp 5, staying at his dad's main cabin in the Talkeetna Mountains. I woke earlier than Ben and was up drinking coffee, watching birds and letting the river go by. Then a large grey wolf walked right into camp. He looked around, inspecting things for a bit, and then he was gone.
The last time I recall seeing wolves, was on a low level flight up over the pass from the Talkeetna River into the Chickaloon River valley. That day we circled down to spook a pack of 5 wolves who had a big bull caribou surrounded on the edge of the river. Whether that bull lived to tell about our rescue or not, I don't know.
Wolves are all around us here. They are a silent part of our landscape, and even though we don't often see them face-to-face, we always know they are there... just beyond the shadows. As predators, wolves come with a well-earned reputation... and as with most meat eaters, they have a raw, wild beauty that is remarkably unmatched. This is wolf country... our home.