Bells, harmonicas, kazoos, and pepper spray--I'd go with any of them. Or all. Turn myself into a one-man band with a repulsive smell.
The one time I've been to Alaska I became steeped in the lore of scary bear attacks. That's what people who live there do to amuse themselves during the summer months of perpetual daylight; scare the pants off themselves recounting tales of the latest maulings. The summer I was there, everybody was talking about the two fishermen who float-planed into a remote lake. If I remember correctly, as one of them reached shore a big bear rushed out of the brush and literally tore his arm off. He made it back to the plane, his buddy took off, but he died en route.
Anyway, what my reading and stories from local friends up there convinced me was that the serious attacks tend to come at very close quarters: the hikers on a narrow trail in thick berry brush who surprise a feeding bear, etc. It's not like a jousting match where you get to unsheath your khuk, paw the ground, and charge at each other.
As I recall, the big debate up there was whether or not to go into the backcountry with a firearm, period. One school of thought held that you shouldn't because there's often not time to get a decent shot off in these encounters, and if you nonfatally wound the big critter you may have unwittingly turned one of those bluffing encounters into something more deadly. My local friends weren't of that philosophy, though. We carried a shotgun loaded for bear. One person would portage the canoe over slippery, muddy terrain, another had only the shotgun in his hands. Never saw a bear on that trip, but we did see some fresh scat that got everybody's attention.
Anyway, if I ever get back up that way I'll have an 18-inch villager with me. It can be pretty wet up there in the summer, and those villagers are gluttons for punishment.