Outdoors
The BDN outdoors section brings readers into the woods, waters and wild places of Maine. It features stories on hunting, fishing, wildlife, conservation and recreation, told by people who live these experiences. This section emphasizes hands-on knowledge, field reports, issues, trends and the traditions that define life outside in Maine. Read more Outdoors stories here.
“Climbing over the logjam, I spotted two cubs on the other side of the river. From the brush I heard the huffing sound. Then I saw her, the sow. From 20 yards she was coming at me, huffing and growling — a full charge.”
Hamish Stevenson, a native of Mount Desert Island, is an Alaska fishing guide. At 28, he’s an experienced Maine outdoorsman who cut his teeth hunting and fishing at his father’s lodge in Patten.
A tall, fit, easygoing young man, Stevenson has been guiding on the Kenai River for Alaska Rivers Company. His girlfriend is a rafting guide there.
Although he survived the mauling and recovered fully, Stevenson said he had bad dreams for a couple of years afterward.
“I got beyond that after a while,” he said.
It was July 17, 2021, a clear summer day. On his day off, he biked and hiked into the upper Russian River, a tributary of the Kenai. A few years earlier, he had made the same trip alone and found outstanding fly fishing for big rainbow trout. This was a chance to relive it.
Little did he know.
“Her mouth was open as she came at me. I stood my ground thinking it might be a bluff charge, reaching for my bear spray. She was on me before I could get the cap off.”
He tried to back away, covering his head and making noise. It didn’t matter.
“In an instant she was on me, one claw over my shoulder and her mouth in my rib cage.”
Stevenson, all 200 pounds of him, was thrown off the logjam onto the riverbank and then into the water by the bear. He ended up face up in the river with the bear on top of him, pressing down.
He played dead.
“It was over in a minute,” he said. “She stopped roaring and walked away, but she never took her eyes off me.”
What went through his mind wasn’t what you might expect.
He said his life didn’t flash before him. Instead, he blamed himself for screwing up, figured he was probably done for and felt sad for the friends who would find his battered body.
He knew he was badly hurt but managed to stand.
“My arm was a mess and my side hurt bad.”
Stevenson managed to walk back to his hidden bike, but he was in no shape to ride. He walked it four miles to his truck and drove himself back to his outfitter’s camp on the Kenai.
“I had been in an adrenaline haze and as it wore off it hit me, ‘I am alive!’” he said.
His boss, Eric, ripped off his shirt and took one look at him.
“Holy … you’ve been bit by a bear!”
At the hospital, X-rays showed deep puncture wounds to his shoulder and arm, along with badly bruised and fractured ribs.
Looking back, Stevenson blames himself more than the bear.
He said he should have been fishing with a buddy, avoided the low-visibility area near the brush-choked stream and been more practiced at uncapping his bear spray.
Alaska game wardens investigated the mauling and, at Stevenson’s urging, did not kill the bear, which is often done in cases like this.
Soon after turkey season in Maine, Stevenson will return to guiding on the Kenai for the season.
Today, he is more practiced with his bear spray and carries a loaded Taurus Judge, a .45-caliber long colt revolver.
“Will you go back to fish that same area?” I asked.
“I really don’t think so,” he said with a slight smile.
