Bear Safety When Camping in Alaska: The Stuff That Matters

Phone rang at the permit desk maybe four hundred times a summer with some version of this same question, and the answer never really changed: yes, the bears are out there, no, they're not waiting in the parking lot to eat you, and yes, you do actually have to put your toothpaste in the canister. Alaska's a different animal than the Lower 48 — more bears, bigger bears, fewer roads, and a lot more country where if you mess up nobody's coming for a while. I spent some years working out of Bozeman but I did three details up in Alaska between '94 and 2011, mostly Wrangell-St. Elias and a stretch over by Katmai, and I'll tell you what — the rules up there exist for a reason.

This isn't going to be a lecture. It's the stuff I actually told folks before I signed their permit and sent them out the door. Some of it sounds obvious. Some of it people get wrong every single year. Sadie, my border collie, she's not coming on this trip with you — dogs and Alaska bears are a bad mix and we'll get to that.

So let's get into it.

Know Which Bear You're Dealing With

Alaska's got three bears: black, brown (which includes grizzly and the coastal browns you see on every magazine cover), and polar. If you're car-camping or hiking off the road system in the Interior or Southcentral, you're mostly thinking about black and brown. Polar bears are a problem if you're up around Kaktovik or Utqiagvik, and if you're going there you already know it and you've hired someone who knows more than me.

The reason it matters which bear is that the response is different. Brown bear charges you, you stand your ground, you don't run, and if it makes contact you play dead — flat on your stomach, hands laced behind your neck, legs spread so it can't flip you. Black bear actually attacks you (rare, but it happens, and it's usually predatory not defensive), you fight back. Hard. Rocks, sticks, fists, whatever you got. Confusing the two costs people their lives every decade or so. Brown bear has the shoulder hump and a dished face. Black bear is taller in the rump than the shoulder and has a straight profile. Color don't tell you a thing — black bears come in cinnamon and blonde, brown bears can be near-black.

And before somebody writes in: yes there's nuance. A brown sow with cubs that's already on you, you might fight back as a last resort. But the rule of thumb above is what'll save most folks most of the time.

Food Storage Is The Whole Game

I mean it. Ninety percent of bear problems in Alaska start with food, garbage, or something that smells like food. A bear that gets a meal off a human gets bolder, comes back, eventually has to be killed. "A fed bear is a dead bear" — old saying, still true.

In most of Alaska's federal backcountry, a hard-sided bear canister is either required or strongly recommended. Denali requires them for backcountry permits and they loan them out at the Wilderness Access Center — or they did, last I heard, check before you go. Wrangell-St. Elias recommends them. Katmai requires them. The BRFC (Bear Resistant Food Container) approved list is the standard — IGBC-certified canisters, the Garcia, the BearVault, the Wild Ideas Bearikade if you got the money. Don't bring an Ursack into a place that requires hard-sided and expect rangers to be charmed about it.

If you're car-camping at a developed campground like Riley Creek (Denali entrance area) or Russian River (off the Sterling Highway on the Kenai), use the bear lockers. They're there for a reason. Russian River in particular during the sockeye run is one of the most concentrated bear-and-people situations in the state and it works because everybody plays by the rules. Mostly.

What goes in the canister

• All food, obviously, including the dehydrated stuff in sealed pouches
• Toothpaste, sunscreen, bug dope, lip balm — anything scented
• Trash, including the foil from your dinner and the wrapper you forgot in your pocket
• Dog food and dog treats if you brought a dog (more on that)
• Cooking pot if you didn't get it spotless
• Water filter cartridges, some folks forget these have food residue
• The clothes you cooked dinner in if they got splattered — or at least don't sleep in them

Cache the canister 100 yards downwind of your tent if terrain allows. Cook in a third spot, 100 yards from both. This is the classic bear-country triangle and it ain't fancy but it works. In a lot of Alaska terrain — open tundra, gravel bars — you can see your canister from camp and that's fine, that's actually preferable to losing it.

How You Move Through The Country

Most bear encounters that go sideways are surprise encounters at close range. Bear didn't know you were coming, you walked up on a kill or a sow with cubs, everybody panics. So the answer is: don't surprise them.

Talk. Sing. Clap occasionally. The "hey bear" thing sounds silly until you've done it a thousand miles and realized you've never been charged. Bear bells don't work — too high pitched, doesn't carry, bears tune them out. Your voice carries and sounds like what you are, which is a human, which is what they want to avoid. In brushy country, in willow thickets, near rushing water where sound doesn't travel, near berry patches in August — that's when you really lean into it.

Hike in groups when you can. Four people is the sweet spot for bear-country travel — big enough that bears almost never push it, small enough to actually move. Solo hiking in Alaska is legal most places but it's a different risk profile and you should know that going in. I did plenty of solo work and I was loud the whole time. Felt foolish. Stayed alive.

If you want decent route info before you go, AllTrails for Alaska is a starting point but I'd cross-check anything you find there with the ranger district that manages the land. AllTrails users sometimes don't mention that the "easy" creek crossing is a brown bear corridor in July. For more on day-hiking prep see our hiking activities page, and look at the trails database for what's actually been walked recently.

Bear Spray, And The Question Of Firearms

Carry bear spray. On your hip belt or chest strap, not buried in the pack where it might as well be on the moon. Counter Assault and UDAP both make the 9-ounce cans that meet EPA specs for bear deterrent — minimum 7.9 ounces, 1-2% capsaicinoids, 25-foot range minimum. Practice drawing it. Practice taking the safety off. The first time you ever touch it should not be when a 700-pound boar is coming downhill at you.

Studies out of Brigham Young by Tom Smith and Stephen Herrero — and these are the studies the agencies actually use — show bear spray works better than firearms for stopping aggressive bears, something like 92% effective when deployed. Firearms get tangled up in shot placement under stress, and a wounded bear is worse than a curious one.

That said, Alaska is a place where a lot of folks do carry, and it's legal in most of the state including in National Preserves (different rules in National Parks proper — see NPS.gov for the specific unit). If you carry, you better be proficient. A .44 magnum revolver or a 12-gauge with slugs is the traditional answer. A .22 is for ground squirrels, not bears. I've known guides who carried both spray and a firearm and used the spray every time and the firearm never. That's the standard I'd hold to.

You can not fly with bear spray in checked or carry-on luggage. Buy it in Anchorage or Fairbanks when you land. Most outfitters and even the bigger grocery stores carry it.

Camp Setup That Doesnt Get You Into Trouble

Pick your tent site with bears in mind. Not on a game trail, not in dense brush, not right on a salmon stream during a run, not in a berry patch in late summer. Open ground with sight lines is your friend. I've seen people pitch in spots that looked like a bear highway and then wonder why they had visitors. Good tent choice matters less than good tent placement.

Cook downwind and away. A stove beats a fire for bear country because it's faster and produces less lingering smell. Wipe everything down. Pack out grease. Don't dump dishwater within 100 yards of camp — strain it, scatter it. Burning food scraps in a fire is a myth, it doesn't fully burn and it concentrates the smell. Pack it out in your canister.

Your sleeping bag should not smell like the campfire dinner you spilled on it. If it does, that's a problem you address by washing the bag, not by hoping. For the rest of your kit, our general gear notes get into specifics.

Dogs in bear country

I love dogs. Sadie's been my shadow for nine years and she's the best company a feller could ask for. But: dogs in Alaska bear country, off-leash, are a liability. They'll chase a bear, get scared, run back to you with the bear right behind them. There's a reason most Alaska park units require dogs on leash or prohibit them in the backcountry entirely. Check the rules for the specific unit before you bring the dog. The Alaska State Parks site lays out unit-by-unit rules and they aren't all the same.

What I'd Actually Do

If it was me and my family going to Alaska for the first time, I'd start somewhere with infrastructure — Denali road-accessible campgrounds, or one of the Kenai Peninsula state parks like Caines Head or Kachemak Bay. Get used to the rhythm of the place. Use the bear lockers, carry spray, hike in groups, talk loud, be smart about food. Then if you want to push further into the backcountry the next trip, you've got reps. Look up the unit on Recreation.gov for current permit and canister rules, because those change and I'm not going to pretend I know what next season's rules are. Check our parks overview for orientation.

The bears aren't out to get you. They want to eat fish and berries and be left alone, mostly. Your job is to not become an interesting smell. Do that, and Alaska is some of the finest country on this continent. Don't do it, and you become the cautionary tale at the ranger station the next summer. Your choice. Sadie says hi.