I'm not much of a writer, so please forgive the description, but (to me) Mickey hit the nail on the head with the wolves. There's nothing like returning to sheep camp after a long couple of days in the mountains, sitting around the fire with a nice single malt scotch in your hand, watching the northern lights above and listening to the wolves siren song.

The scariest sound is being in alder and devils club thicket where visibility is measured in inches with the fog closing in and hearing a one of those big coastal grizzlies (that you can't see) growling deep in its chest somewhere very near you as you step around bear chewed salmon carcasses on one the big run streams.