Years ago, we went on a walking safari in Africa.
A walking safari is a unique way to enjoy nature, taking it in slowly and through all senses: Sight, sound, touch, and smell.
The feeling was exhilarating and primal, including a heightened sense of fear. After all, in the bush lurk predators and danger, things great and small that can maim, paralyze, or kill. Fortunately, we had experienced guides among us, at least one of which was equipped with a large gun.
This summer, as we’ve crisscrossed the continent in our van, we’ve enjoyed opportunities to visit national parks, national forests, and other wild areas. We’ve walked the Pacific coast, hiked near Mt Rainier, and fished various mountain streams.
Yesterday, we visited Glacier National Park, a spot we’ve had our eyes on for years. Glacier was established in 1910 and encompasses nearly 1.6 thousand square miles, roughly three times the size of our home state of Connecticut. It is as remote as it is vast, intersected by a single cross-park road, alongside other entry points that terminate at box canyons or beneath stunning mountain walls.
Among other things, Glacier National Park is known for bears, especially grizzly bears, some 300 of which roam in- and outside the park.
At one time, it is estimated that more than 50,000 grizzlies lived from Alaska to Mexico, and across the Great Plains. Following decades of hunting and habitat destruction, the North American grizzly bear had all-but disappeared from the lower 48 states by the early part of the 20th century. Glacier National Park was a final refuge.
Over the past half century, grizzlies have been reintroduced into the American West, most famously in Yellowstone National Park and more recently in the North Cascades. But Glacier National Park remains the location of their highest concentration.
Which takes us back to yesterday.
After several driving days in our van, we were ready to stretch our legs and get some exercise. We had camped at ‘Many Glaciers’ inside the park. For our hike, we chose the Ptarmigan Trail (and, yes, we did spot a ptarmigan on the trail), and set out.
About two miles up the trail, and after some 1,000 feet of elevation gain, we broke through the forest and came to a fetching meadow, resplendent with wildflowers above and below us, as well as young aspens and lots of huckleberry bushes bearing ripe fruit.
In other words, prime grizzly territory.
For once, it was Joanie who first spotted the movement. Above us, on a steep slope, approximately 75 yards away, was a massive brown bear moving across the meadow.
We froze.
Holy shit!
We were ‘armed’ with only a single canister of bear spray, not the carbines of our erstwhile African guides. Thirty yards further up the trail, another older and rather portly hiker had already unsheathed his bear spray and stood crouched, knees slightly bent, arms outstretched holding his canister in the ‘firing position’.
We exchanged worried glances.
What to do?
Run?
Dumb.
Walk back down the trail?
Nah, what about our hike?
The answer was obvious.
Take pictures! Film the bear!
If nothing else, for posterity.
There is an old saying about bears, their ‘scat’, and the woods.
Well, when two middle-aged tourists from Connecticut encountered a grizzly in the meadow, one close enough to attack within seconds, with only a pudgy geezer aiming bear spray some 30 yards away to protect them, well…woods and ‘scat’ became something not just for the bears.
P.S. We’ll load photos and perhaps a video shortly.