Back to Camp | Life Below Zero

Sue Aikens has spent the past four months in Fairbanks recovering from surgery. As Kavik River Camp's sole proprietor, her absence has left this site uninhabited and unprotected.

"I have to visually check everything, behind any corner, any trailer. It's the things you don't see that bite you in the ass. I got injured in the winter, and it was very cold, very snowy. In winter, I've been town through the flooding for months. I thought out it has gone through the awakening of the bears. There are 83 bears tagged within so many miles of camp that can walk through. I can't go in unarmed in case something decides to take me out of the equation."

"You got a scratch here that's been torn. How do you know it's new? Well, it's a different color. It's bright yellow; all the other wood is weathered. This is yellowish. Can't say if it's a bear, can't say what it is. It's just that I don't see where the building isn't. The integrity has not been compromised on the building, but you can see something pushed."

"Okay, I don't see any breaks in the material. I'm gonna go on the Twinkie, dark in here. The door back here is still shut, so that's good. As I'm looking for, did something open a door? Is there a problem? I don't care if the bears come, scratch, scratch, scratch. I care about open, open, open."

"So, everything's looking pretty good, and silly as it seems, this right here—coffee grounds—that I spread everywhere. What it does is a bear's nose is so sensitive that mild acidic scent is just like an outhouse. They don't like it. It is a miracle that I was able to be gone and no bears came in. They scratched, and they didn't destroy it. That is, it's pretty amazing. I feel proud of myself for that one. Lucky in camp, nothing ate it, but I got a lot of clean up to do."