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Getting up close with Alaska's coastal brown bears

Rachel Walker

Red-roofed cabins in the foreground, mountains in the background

Looking out through a cabin door at the Alaskan landscape

We spotted the first bears from the air. As our small bush plane circled the wilderness lodge that would be our home for the week, hulking brown forms stood out against the green expanse of a meadow below. Their size astonished me—what would they look like on the ground?

The answer came soon after we landed on the beach of Chinitna Bay: enormous. Fresh from hibernation, the bears grazed sedges and dug up clams, intent on replenishing the fat stores winter had taken.

It was mid-June, nearly solstice. We set out on our first excursion within an hour of landing, and though our watches said dinnertime, Alaska’s midnight sun and constant bear activity kept us captivated. Large males skirted the meadow, occasionally testing their chances with females who were feeding or tending yearlings.

A brown bear and cub relaxing on a shoreline

A bald eagle perched on an evergreen tree

Our guide explained that “cubs of the year,” or COYs, usually appear in July. Immediately, I wanted to see a mother with newborns. I’d brought my own cub of sorts—my 13-year-old son—in hopes that this place would show him something of the world’s scale and possibility.

In the deliciously slow days that followed, we saw dozens of bears. With little else to do but watch wildlife, each day unfurled in a rhythm as natural as the tides. An adult male wandered within 10 feet of us. Two-year-olds postured. Sows brushed off suitors. But still, no brand-new cubs.

Then, on our second-to-last morning, my son spotted a sow with two tiny, adorable COYs. We stood in the early light, watching as the family crossed the mudflats. After days of big, boisterous bears, this scene felt tender. It was life and love embodied. I squeezed my son’s arm, and we watched for what felt like hours.

Want to travel to Nat Hab’s Alaska Bear Camp with WWF?