Week 4 – Rain, Tides, and a Muddy Surprise

A quiet morning in the meadow — bears moving slowly through the mist as the rain softened everything into watercolor.

Seen in My Lens: Alaska — Week 4

A Rainy Start

We were up early again—coffee at 6:00 AM in the wheelhouse—when a coastal brown bear wandered casually through the fire pit. A gentle reminder that at Silver Salmon Creek Lodge, bears move through the property like part of the landscape.

A coastal brown bear wandering through the fire pit at sunrise — a reminder that here, the bears set the rhythm of the day.

It was a rainy morning, the kind where the mist hangs just above the grass and softens every shape into something almost watercolor-like. We pulled on rain gear, slipped protective sleeves over our cameras, and stepped into the meadow. We didn’t have to go far before we found a few bears along the creek, their coats lifted and textured from the damp, their movements slowed by the quiet of the morning. In that soft, wet light, they looked almost magical — like watercolor paintings come to life — scenes that would later become part of my bears in the mist series.

The morning felt watercolor-soft — bears moving quietly through the mist, the grass beaded with rain, everything muted and magical.

By 8:00 AM, we were back at the lodge warming up over breakfast, ready for whatever the weather delivered next.

Morning on the tidal flats — bears fanned out across the mud, each absorbed in the work of clamming.

The Tidal Flats

After breakfast, we headed toward the tidal flats. The rain was still steady, and low clouds hung over the landscape as we made our way out toward the open stretch of mud where the bears had already gathered to clam. As the landscape opened up, we saw the shapes of several bears spaced across the wide mudflats — each completely absorbed in the quiet, determined work of clamming.

A short, slightly shaky clip of a coastal brown bear clamming — filmed quickly in the moment just as it unfolded.

The Mud Incident

One bear worked steadily toward a rich clamming patch, so I knelt to photograph it. Between tracking its movement, switching cameras, and staying centered, I didn’t notice the guide’s subtle signal for the group to shift back.

When I shifted my weight to stand, that’s when I realized something was wrong. My knees were suctioned deep into the mud, and both hands were holding cameras I couldn’t afford to drop. The bear wasn’t concerned with me; it was simply following breakfast. But the closer it moved, the more urgently I needed to get unstuck—and the more the mud held on.

A quiet moment on the tidal flats — a bear working its way along the mud while another clams in the distance.

The mud gripped my knees so tightly it felt as if my legs were locked in place. Both hands were full, the rain still coming down, and the bear kept its steady, nose-down path—focused entirely on clams beneath the surface.

To get free, I had to lean forward carefully, balancing both cameras without letting either touch the mud. When the suction finally released, I stepped back just as the bear passed through the exact spot where I’d been kneeling.

The adrenaline softened into a quiet laugh — the mud had held me firmer than anything else that morning. In the end, the image told the story better than my muddy struggle ever could.

One of the bears clamming in the flats — completely focused, moving with the quiet purpose that defines their mornings here.

A Warm Break

Lunch that day — hot chicken tortilla soup — tasted better than any gourmet meal. Afterward, the bears had moved elsewhere, so we shifted to photographing tiny rain-soaked details.

Small moments in the rain — wildflowers beaded with mist, a wolf track in soft mud, and our group bundled up and photographing the quiet beauty between bear sightings.

Back at the lodge, the fire warmed the room as we settled in with our laptops and took a quiet moment to go through the day’s images before dinner.

After hours in the rain and mud, nothing felt better than drying gear by the fire and reviewing the day’s images inside the warm lodge.

A Soft Evening

After dinner, the sky lifted just enough for one last session. The light had a softness that only arrives after a day of rain — a muted glow that made everything feel calm and settled. A single bear grazed at an easy pace, unbothered by our presence.

The bear moved slowly through the wet grasses, each step soft and deliberate. I stopped thinking about distance and simply watched the rhythm of it—the meadow quiet, the colors muted, the moment unhurried.

A coastal brown bear grazing quietly in the soft evening light after a day of steady rain.

On the walk back, our guide pointed out a fresh wolf track beside a bear track — a reminder of how much life moves through this place unseen.

When we finally returned for the night, the warmth of the fire felt especially welcome after such a wet, muddy day. I fell asleep thinking about rain, tidewater, and the way the mud had held me still that morning.

I didn’t yet know that later that night the cabin would shake just enough to make us freeze and listen. We wouldn’t understand why until the next morning — and that’s a story for Week 5.