In the middle of the very first night alone, Tim hears an awful sound. Not gnashing, but a gnawing so loud it carries through the wall tent into the caretaker’s cabin. Now gnawing on its own, in clear daylight with whomever or whatever visible in the act is acceptable. It doesn’t evoke any imagination. You see it, you believe it, and after acknowledging it you move on or do something about it. Gnawing in the middle of the night; where many a bear rambles and ambles by, even leaving a mark or two… way up on the lodge’s long legs holding up the large deck overlooking the lovely lake–takes on a different sound. A sound that when you wake up to, well into the wilderness, makes you wonder why you talk to yourself… asking and answering questions.