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Friday, July 26, 2002

By Lillian Thomas, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

After a sprint over rocky ground, a drop over a 10-foot outcropping, and a retreat into a shallow eddy at the edge of the Salmon River, Greg Stalnaker lay splayed back on his elbows in the water, a bear rearing over him.

There was sheer terror, but also the thought that the 300-pound bear -- standing over him with a paw raised, eyes focused -- looked like a boxer waiting for an opening.

And faster than you could snap your finger, Stalnaker said, the bear was biting his leg.

Stalnaker of Jefferson, Md., was attacked July 13 while on a rafting and fishing trip on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River in Idaho.

His wife, Christine, is originally from Butler. Christine did not go on the rafting trip, but instead went with her mother, Kathy Lucas, to England. Christine Lucas' father, Virgil, who was principal of Butler High School before retiring, considered going to Idaho but decided against it.

"He tried to talk me into going," said Virgil Lucas, who also is a fisherman. "I declined. I liked the fishing idea, but not the Class 4 whitewater rafting."

It turned out the rapids weren't the thing to worry about on this trip.

Stalnaker, who has extensive backpacking and outdoor experience, had made similar trips. On the second day of a six-day, 100-mile rafting trip on the remote and pristine section of the Salmon River, the group of 23 traveling with seven guides, was relaxing after a day on the river. Stalnaker, a sales manager for 3M's Health and Safety Division, decided to head downstream from the camp for some fly fishing and solitude.

"I scared up some grouse, and I thought that was neat. Then I turned around and saw a bear looking over a bush. It was fully erect, I could see the upper half of him." The cinnamon-brown bear was staring straight at him.

"I didn't think too much of it. I've seen lots of black bear in West Virginia where I backpack. They usually run off unless they're a camp bear and you have to run 'em off," he said.

There are no grizzlies in that area, so Stalnaker made the recommended black bear response, which is to be noisy and make yourself look as big as possible. "I waved my fly reel and arms and yelled, 'Yah, bear!'

"He went back down on all fours and made a false rush. He came within about 10 feet, then broke off and was trotting back up the trail in the direction he'd come from," Stalnaker said.

Stalnaker backed up slowly, planning to get away from the bear, then circle back to camp. But the bear turned and charged again.

"When he charged the second time, there was a different look about him. His ears were pinned back. That's when I figured it was time to fly."

Stalnaker tore off over rocky, wet terrain, toward the river. He'd gone 20 or 30 yards when he saw that he was nearly on top of an outcropping that dropped straight to the edge of the river.

He jumped and his knee and hip slammed into the rocks below. He looked up and saw that the bear had come around the edge of the outcropping and was charging him again.

Stalnaker smacked the bear with his fly rod -- "just to try to slow him down." The bear attacked, clawing his leg several times.

Stalnaker backed into the water. It was about a foot deep, but rocky and slippery. He lost his footing and fell down. The bear charged and attacked again. He remembered that the nose was supposed to be sensitive, so he kicked at the bear's face.

The bear broke off briefly, then came around still another time.

"I was backpedaling as fast as you can move going backward. I fell backward in the water and that's when he rushed."

The bear reared above him. "You could tell he was taking his time, trying to find an opening. I remember looking at his eyes; he was just so focused, and so intent, with that paw raised, and so quick, just unbelievable. I've been scared a couple of times in my life, but never like that. It was just sheer terror."

The bear attacked four times, biting Stalnaker's left leg and right foot, and clawing his legs and one of his arms.

Stalnaker managed to get to his feet and moved deeper into the river, until he was up to his chin, just above a tough section of rapids. The bear started swimming toward him.

He didn't want to take on the section alone and injured, below his rafting group, in the midst of the 2.2 million-acre Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area. But when the bear was within a foot of him he was ready to let go and be carried away by the river.

Then he saw a kayak moving toward him.

Someone had spotted the bear even before Stalnaker first encountered him on the trail, and that may have saved him.

Troy Jones, 26, of San Francisco, was among the rafting group relaxing at the camp.

"I saw some movement out of corner of my eye, about 300 yards downstream. By the time I whipped my head around, [it] moved behind a tree."

He told the others he thought maybe he'd seen a bear, and they started watching the same area.

"After about two minutes, we hadn't seen anything, but then we saw Greg -- we didn't know it was him at the time -- we saw him walking down the path. Then less than 30 seconds later, this brown bear goes running after Greg. It moved faster literally than I've ever seen an animal move, it went 30 meters in a matter of seconds."

The instant the chase began, several guides took off, some on foot, others in kayaks. They made their way downstream as the group watched the attacks play out.

"We saw Greg running, he got to the ledge, and we couldn't tell if he got pushed or fell about 12 feet into less than a foot of water and rocks," said Jones. "The scary part of the whole thing was, then the bear went back and around and went after him. You could see the bear swatting at Greg, and then all of the sudden it stood up on its two hind feet and was roaring at him, just bellowing. You could hear the bear and you could hear screams from Greg."

Sean Glaccum, an experienced guide from Ketchum, Idaho, was the first to reach Stalnaker. He started slamming the water with his paddle and then other guides arrived and started yelling and throwing rocks.

They chased the bear back to the bank, where it paced furiously back and forth. Stalnaker's fly line had somehow caught on the bear's claw or fur, and by the time the bear finally retreated the reel was played out, leaving 50 yards of brilliant green fly line looped all over the bank of the river.

The bear returned to the same spot later that evening and the next morning. State game commission officials are still looking for it, according to Gayle Selisch, who with her husband, Kurt, runs Middle Fork River Tours.

The group was fortunate in being close to one of the three U.S. Forest Service outposts along the 100-mile stretch of river, and also that another rafting group in the same section included an emergency room physician who cleaned and treated Stalnaker's wounds. Though he'd been clawed and bitten repeatedly, he escaped serious injury.

Stalnaker said that the outfitters offered to arrange to fly him out, but since his wounds weren't life-threatening, he decided to finish the trip, riding in an oar boat for the last 60 miles.

He is now home recovering. He started a series of rabies shots Monday as a precaution.

"Even though it was terrifying, I know this was completely a freak experience," he said. "There's no question I was very fortunate not to be severely mauled."