ABSTRACT
The next day, we decided to go back to the lake where we had seen the bear, taking advantage of the good weather. This time, we approached it from a different direction and could see how a river entered the lake, sprawling across a boulder-studded delta, braiding into pools and riffles and narrow chutes before losing its velocity and spilling into a mile-wide basin, where the roar of the white water turned into a whisper. A tall, flat-topped spruce tree, perfectly and symmetrically formed, cradled the widening river on the far side. The near shore was lower, rising gradually through willows and alders to the lance-like crowns of spruce trees. The trees stabbed the sky, like a medieval army arrayed to repulse the weather. At the north end, where the shorelines came together, the river regathered itself, quickening for its rush away again.
