Surviving Bear Island by Paul Greci Read Free Book Online Page B

treeless, then below it, the forest started. And beyond the forest lay a huge pear-shaped bay of blue water.
    Hidden Bay, I remembered. We’d crossed the entrance early in the day of the accident.
    Biggest bay on the island. Ten miles long, and over four miles wide in the middle. Too bad we don’t have time to explore it. Next time, we’ll go in there. Probably some good salmon streams.
    The place was killer beautiful. Like if you had a boat full of supplies and you were in the bay, it would be amazing. But for me, the thing that made this place beautiful, the endless miles of empty mountains and water, was the thing that could kill me.
    It’d probably take an hour to paddle across the mouth of the bay, but it’d take me days to walk around it.
    Suddenly the Sentinels seemed very far away to me, too far. I couldn’t swim across the mouth of Hidden Bay, or any other bay between me and the Sentinels. I’d have to walk if I wanted to get there. But I had to eat, too.
    Maybe I’d run into someone before I got there. Another crazy kayaker like my dad, or someone in a boat who didn’t care about how much money he was spending on gas. But I knew chances were slim. I mean, the reason my dad wanted to come out here was because no one else did.
    I started side-stepping my way down. Slippery areas with rock beneath moss, covered with chest-high Devil’s Club, shared the upper third of the mountainside with patches of other plants I didn’t recognize. There was a scattering of boulders on this side of the ridge too, and a footprint here and there.
    I tried to avoid the slick, mossy areas, but twice found myself crab-walking down, sliding my butt on the moss ’cause I didn’t want to fall and get tangled up in Devil’s Club.
    Finally, I reached the edge of the forest. But it was even steeper, almost like the cliffs on the coast. If I’d had a long rope I would’ve used it. The trees were small and spread out. And there were lots of blueberry bushes that hung like curtains down the slope, but they didn’t have any berries on them.
    I tried to dig my feet in sideways, but the rocky ground was just as slick as the slope above. So I started grabbing the berry bushes by their bases for a little balance. I could see downslope where there were more trees. I hoped it’d be less steep, too. Plus I could go from tree to tree when I got there.
    But for now it was sidestep, sidestep, sidestep, grab a bush at the base, and rest. Then repeat.
    I worked my way around a boulder, and then sucked air into my gut as my foot grazed the rump of a black bear.
    The bear twisted away from me and I jumped backwards. My feet scrambled for grip as my arms reached out for the steep slope. I grabbed a berry bush by the base and it gave way. I fell backwards, like I’d been dumped out of an airplane, and landed on my back with my legs flat, pointing downslope. A sea of green flew over me as I bumped down the slope and gained speed with no sign of stopping.
    I let out a scream.
    Then my heels hit something that sent a jolt through my hips and all the way to the base of my head. I flopped forward, and all of a sudden I was flying through the air. Everything slowed down, like an instant replay of someone doing a ski jump.
    I knew I was moving, was airborne, but felt no pressure—no resistance. Then I slammed into the ground. Face first. Mouth first.
    BEFORE THE ACCIDENT
    The whale stayed in the distance, ignoring us, as we paddled north. But then another group of sea lions swam toward us and Dad turned the kayak further from shore.
    When Dad did this, the sea lions corrected their course like we were a target they’d locked in on. I kept on paddling, my head cocked over my left shoulder watching them close in on us.
    â€œKeep it steady,” Dad said. “I’ve paddled through herds of them lots of times and nothing has ever happened. But the way that first group nudged the