For years, the grizzly had lumbered through my dreams. I was never sure why. Maybe it was just plain old fear: knowing that if I walked around in the Brooks long enough I’d eventually have one such encounter. Yet it wasn’t simply fear. I revered the grizzly. I spoke of it in hushed tones if I spoke of it at all. Maybe it was because I’d wanted to be everything the grizzly was: wild, strong, free.
