I was introduced to the idea of bucket lists by an adrenaline-seeking couple I guided years ago on an outing to Admiralty Island. I was leery after they told me swimming with sea lions was number one on the things they wanted to do before they died. When I said I couldn’t facilitate the experience they were disappointed, and asked what I could offer instead.
“Do you want to be charged by a bear?” I asked, joking.
Their eyes lit up and they nodded vigorously. Apparently a bear charge was number two on the list. I’ve never been partial to the close company of sea lions and being charged by a bear, while quite a rush, is not the most enjoyable experience. It’s kind of like a high-speed visit to an angry dentist dressed up as a clown.
A few days into the trip, a bear unexpectedly stood up from the grass 20 yards away and huffed. It wasn’t a large or particularly menacing bear. While I watched, feeling a touch bad for disturbing the animal, it suddenly occurred to me there was something wrong with my clients.
I glanced back and they were both doubled over in what appeared to be the throes of bad gastric attack. For a second I felt guilty about my cooking. Then the bear dropped to all fours and walked into the woods. The couple straightened out of their standing fetal position looking pale and frightened.
“You guys all right?” I asked.
They didn’t ask to be charged by a bear or swim with sea lions the rest of the trip.
After we parted ways, I’d thought that was the last I’d hear of the bucket list. I was horribly wrong. It spread like wildfire — every man, woman and child seemed to have one.
So, I decided to write my own. Deep in the night, by light of my headlamp, I let my imagination go wild and scrawled my own list. The end result was a crumpled, stained and nearly illegible 100-page monstrosity.
I can’t tell if number 173 says, “Exhibit a giant squirt,” or, “Encounter a giant squid.”
For number 216, it kind of looks like I wrote, “Dance with cannibals beneath the pale moonlight.”
On second thought, it read closer to: “Learn to salsa dance.” Either way that one will probably never be checked off.
Number 502: “Capture first ever video of a polar bear mating with a grizzly bear. Dub in roar-overs and jazzy music later. Sell for thousands.”
Number 864s: “Star as the villain in next James Bond movie, but don’t mess around with shark tanks, hairless cats or elaborate schemes to kill 007. Take a more common sense approach to trying to take over the world.”
Number 1,096: “Beat to death a charging grizzly with a GoPro selfie stick.”
Number 1,097: “Upload pictures of myself to social media sitting alone in ancient forest trying to answer the deepest and darkest questions of my soul using selfie stick after killing said grizzly.” (I’m a millennial, after all.)
Number 1,451: “Get abducted by aliens and write a tell-all book of poetry about the experience that will lead to the creation of a new world religion involving lots of glitter, tin foil and fried chicken.”
(If this ever happens I will mandate that every able child, before graduating elementary school, has to hike the Chilkoot Trail, alone, in the winter, hauling 2,000 pounds over the pass. Also, everyone will get a free puppy and have to wear their pants backwards on Tuesdays as a sign of solidarity.)
I’m the first to admit there’s an over-privileged madness to my list. My dad, for example, was happy dreaming of catching 12-inch trout when he was a kid. When I was a young, I dreamed of catching a great white shark, preferably a 20-plus-foot man-eater. If I ever have a kid, they probably won’t be happy unless Moby Dick’s great grandson takes their hook.
There’s something to be said for seeking out experiences that push you outside your comfort zone and normal life. Life is short and unpredictable, after all. It seems a shame to put off journeys or experiences you want to have.
Likewise, there’s something to be said for deeper exploration of the world right under your nose and out your back door. Being warm, dry and having food in your belly is a pretty amazing experience many of us — me included — often take for granted.
Last on my list reads, “Better appreciate the many good things that surround me presently.”
I sure am lucky to live in a place that has grizzly bears, giant squids, sea lions and cannibals to dance with (the Legislature at the Alaskan on techno night).
• Bjorn Dihle is a Juneau writer. He can be reached at bjorndihle@yahoo.com.
