Jane and the Grizzly

As this person summited the hill our eyes met. They said in a low guttural voice, panting,”There’s a bear….coming…run….for your liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiives….”

They drug the word ‘lives’ out way to long and in such a deep way I could tell they were hyperventilating. There was this person. The giant mob of tourists, and I thought of Jane. This was a very serious situation. Scary. And very funny.

I remember it well. Mainly because I have told so many people this story. Nearly every group I lead on a hiking trip. Why do I tell it? Because I am called a hero in the end of the story? No, far from it. On most trips a guide is as much a hero as a hobo is to a conductor jumping on a their late night freight train looking for a free ride. I tell this story because it illustrates the intelligence of animals—grizzly bears in particular. 

I remember it well…

My boss was smiling as she told me about the wonderful people. I immediately knew she was lying. She was only nice to me when she was giving me a challenging trip to lead. Still, I know I have to stay on her good side. Because Judith, one of several bosses, is the person who assigns us guides our trips. She stands before me, rocking from side to side biting her lower lip, her big bushy blonde hair bounding side to side on top of her six foot tall Swiss frame. She is a terrible liar. 

“This was going to be a wonderful set of hikes with really wonderful and interesting people, “ she says, and “Would you be OK with taking them out even though they didn't want to go anywhere there were bears?” 

An odd question to ask a guide. Especially because Glacier has so many bears. 

I knew she thought they were crazy.

Because I know she thinks I am crazy. 

It sounded like a interesting challenge. And I wasn’t worried so much about the people. I try not to have any preconceived notions about guests ever. In the end of my career, I didn’t even look at their ages, weights, or personal information anymore. Just showed up and started the party. 

The little information I had: a couple and a young woman, from Tennesee, had called multiple times insisting on not seeing any bears, but hiking in wilderness in Glacier National Park—the highest concentration of grizzly bears in the lower 48. Not the MOST—thats Yellowstone, a place I would later guide wolf viewing trips in the winter. This is Glacier National Park. Where we have the most crammed into one spot. 

Standard stuff for a day hiking guide in a place like this. Really, all I thought was “they” and this trip will be “interesting” to say the least. Something to break up the monotony of routine random boring albeit beautiful day hikes. 

It would end up being one of the most exhilarating wildlife encounters in my life up to that point. 

I laughed and said, “Sure I will take the people out, no bears, got it. Happy to help.” Like you have a choice in the guiding industry.

It would actually be a set of custom day hikes. They were coming from Nashville. Near my home turf of Louisville, Kentucky, where I was born and rasied. It was a couple and their grand daughter. I would be hiking with them a few days. There would be a break in the middle while they stayed on the east side of the park and explored by themselves.

I packed my fancy lunches (best ones in the park at that time, I was told). 

Double checked my personal gear.

Prepped the vehicle and waited for my guests to arrive. Who were a little late—which never bothered me a bit. 

The guests were wonderful people! An amazing couple from Nashville and their 16 year old granddaughter, for whom the trip was a birthday gift. Out of all the places she could go in the world for her 16th bday gift, she chose Glacier. What a cool kid!

The grand parents were thrilled. As was I to finally get in the vehicle and start the trip. 

They did have some concerns. Really, only one concern. A huge debilitating unexplainable fear.

Their one concern: bears. Grizzly bears in particular. Man eating, blood thirsty, 700 pound killing machines. 

I laughed in their face when they voiced their concern. Not out of disrespect! I couldn't help myself. Seriously. Laughed out loud—some of them belly laughs. It was truly hysterical. They were in hysterics. Way over the top.

“Our bears here are not the killers of the interior of Alaska. Our bears are largely vegetarian. They eat berries and bugs most of the year. They avoid us like the plague. Because thats what we are to them. If we see a bear, we will be lucky! Just take pictures and stay behind me,“ I say smiling and still chuckling, not fully understanding the depth of their fear, Jane’s fear in particular. Rather, nearly exclusively it seemed. 

“You don't understand, Jeremy. We are paying you to NOT see a bear. What ever we have to do. Wherever we have to go. I just don't want to encounter a bear.”

I stared in silence. Half smiling. Not sure if she was serious. Thinking, ‘lady, you have just come to one of the grizzly bear capitals of the lower 48, and you demand no bears?’ Its kind of like going to the Indy 500 and demanding to not see older men with mullets. It could happen.

I said I would do my best and winked at her husband and granddaughter who did not share her concern.

Our first day we did the deadly Avalanche Lake hike. It is extreme if you are an infant or of failing health. It is a beautiful hike. And on this HOT day the shade of the old growth forest was welcome. I was actually able to hike without a wide brimmed hat. (Until we got to the lake where it was more open. Then the hat came out, and I doubled up again on sunscreen.)

The terminus of the hike is Avalanche Lake. A huge, turquoise, glacially fed lake located in a huge circular bowl formed by a rocky, but green ridge-line around the backside. Above it a massive and beautiful hanging valley with the shrinking Sperry Glacier. It sits aside the continental divide. Wolverines chase grizzly bears off of their kills there. It is a special place, even with the relentless crowds and tame chipmunks. 

On the hike up I got to know my hiking partners as people. One of my favorite things about this job. Getting to know the people who choose to have me take them out into the middle of nowhere, keep them safe and show them stuff. It’s a self selecting crowd. And it’s a good one.

They are top quality people: smart, kind, sophisticated individuals. I reflect as I walk on the hike back down from the lake through the shoulder high thimbleberry bushes before it opens up into the old growth how lucky I am to meet amazing people and take them out walking for money. 

The old growth here forms a cathedral like experience. Walking through those soft trails, it is hard not to be enchanted; over five hundred years of unburned old growth cedar, larch, and a multitude of diversity in the understory where there is often a forest mist. The forest is sparse all around you so you can see one to two hundred yards in all directions. The branches of these trees fall off at the bottom as the trees age (to protect from small fires—for they are fire friendly trees and need it eventually!). Here the branches are all dead around you and gone. The thick branched and heavily needled top layer of these trees do not start until far over head. They all reach as high as they can for the sun in their brief warm summer. Leaving the understory dark. Quiet. A perfect place for people to hike silently, or with a screaming toddler. A place for deer to forage. For the mountain lion to lounge and dine on the deer. A place of diffused light for the ferns and the diverse ecosystem only present in old growth forests. Flowers, bugs, moose, bears. Moss so thick on glacially deposited bus size boulders it has become soil and small trees are growing out of the top it. Go there. Ignore the throngs of people. Sit and wait for a break in the crowds and allow yourself to be moved by the wilderness that is your birthright. 

We leisurely descended back down to the boardwalk entrance, hoards of people and gridlock traffic. I promised our next hike would be a bit more remote and idyllic. The prime of what Glacier has to offer. Jane cut me off, “No bears right.”

I laughed again and said I doubt it. She repeated, “Seriously, your tip is riding on us seeing no bears.”

Things got real serious when the “T word” was dropped. 

“Now listen Jane. I have told you a dozen times. A bear can inhabit every square inch of this park. I cannot guarantee you we will not see one when we meet to hike or when you hike by yourselves. I will say this. The trail we are going to hike is extremely popular and so crowded I cannot imagine us encountering a bear. And on top of that, its supposed to be hot again, and no smart bear is going to be out in the middle of the day. They are all wearing a giant fur coat—think about it. BUT, it is possible. Although, I would bet a lot of money on us not seeing a bear.”

“Good”, she responded. “You’re betting your tip on it.”

I squinted my eyes and stared straight mouthed for a few seconds when the tip was brought up again. It’s not so much the money as it is a symbol. To threaten to reduce or mess with a tip in any service industry situation is a classist statement and should be avoided at all ‘costs’. It’s a big elephant in the room, and it is NOT to be discussed and threatened. Or you can count on someone fantasizing about kicking you to the curb and you have no taxi or spitting in your food at an eatery. Or feeding a family to a grizzly bear in the middle of a forest. 

We said our goodbyes with smiles and handshakes. Despite our different views on bears and the service industry. And despite these differences—I really loved this family. 

I did not see my new best friends for two whole days. They stayed on the East Side of the park and did things solo. How they ventured out of their hotel room onto the trail without a guide to ‘protect them’ from bears I have no idea.

A few days later I was supposed to meet them at the St. Mary Visitor Center parking lot at 9AM. Thats on the east side of Glacier National Park. The Glacier Guides guide camp (Camp Winnakee—old word meaning place to dump trash) is on the West side of the park. There are two ways to get to the east side. Crossing the Going to the Sun Road (GTTSR) or driving around the park. Driving around the park is a bit faster and easier. Going through the park however is a thrill. I drove the Going to the Sun Road as usual. I always drive the road. Always! If its possible. Early. The earlier the better. Better wildlife. Saw a small Black Bear near the Bird Woman Falls overlook. And if you leave early enough you can get a quick bite to eat at a small restaurant before meeting guests. Younger co guides NEVER wanted to do this. Preferring to sleep in as late as possible. I had two poached eggs and GF toast. What other National Park can you get a poached egg for a $1? Rising Sun Motor Inn Restaurant used to deliver. They switched up the menu and I have not returned since.

After 20 minutes of blissful waiting in a tourist information center parking lot, the meeting point, I drove the few minutes into St. Mary and used the phone at the hotel & gas station to call the Glacier Guides head office to check on the guests. This is before Bill and Denni installed the satellite computers in the day hiking guide vehicles, and electric coolers running off of a second battery in each vehicle, state of the art stuff! Of course they told me the guests were running late. I didn't mind. Except for the fact that traffic would be horrible headed back into the park Because of the road construction. And it was hot already, and getting hotter. No way we were seeing a bear today I thought to myself. WAY to hot. It would be possible for a bear to have to relocate DUE to the extreme heat. Say, because they are feeding in the open now on Glacier Lilly bulbs. Could even use our trails. Could even do it in the middle of the day because he started at 6 AM after his (or her—but most males migrate farther than females throughout a range) best feeding time is over: nighttime. These are nocturnal creatures. Its possible that this could happen. But so unlikely it’s not even worth thinking about. And definitely not a topic of conversation when discussing bear biology with my new best friends from Nashville. 

Shortly after 9:45 they arrived. Like I said, I never mind waiting for guests. Breaks up the monotony of day in and day out hiking and gives me a chance to actually sit down and relax. Guide seasons are brutal long hours, like a war deployment.

We quickly disembark, driving with only a few mentions of the word bear and assurances we would not see one. I did not respond, just stared forward. I felt like they knew my stance on bear possibilities and it wasn't worth repeating the same conversation. I was just thinking about the road crews I saw staging earlier on my drive over the Going to the Sun Road. I knew we could be in for some traffic.

Some have postulated that the east side of the park is the most beautiful. The Blackfeet Indians definitely think so. They have called this sacred land home for at least ten thousand years. ‘Hundreds of generations of our ancestors blood is beneath our feet here on this land’, I have heard them say.

Glacier-Waterton International Peace Park (the first of its kind championed into existence by the Women’s Rotary Club in 1931. Thank you ladies!) is such a special place. 

Glacier National Park itself on the U.S. side is sixty miles wide, by 90 miles tall. About a million acres. Surrounded on all sides by National Forest, connected to the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex. This with the surrounding Canadian State lands makes it a huge multi million acre wildlife corridor capable of supporting every species that originally was supposed to be there. Only thing missing is the migrating bison and small group of migrating caribou. And the Blackfeet Indians are working really hard to bring the Bison back. 

Glacier is a geographical anomaly. A massive piece of Earth, shifted and abducted onto the surface. This means the Earth split and a massive piece of old rock came up and is resting on newer rocks. Some if this rock is so old it predates life on Earth. Predates the oxygenated atmosphere. These old rocks have been pounded by precipitation since they began rising from the Earth. One geologist told me at the rate of speed your fingernails grow. As they grew, these massive Earth fingernails have been shaped by wind and water. But mostly by snow, and what would become ice, forming glaciers. Hence the name: Glacier National Park. These Glaciers carved out beautiful valleys. Massive ancient rock spires, cracking, thin ridged mountains, and massive round hulking beast mountains like Gable and Cleveland (the Parks highest at 10, 466 feet). The mountains are quite unique due to their origin. Their shape, right next to the prairie with little or no foothills still makes them one of the most breathtaking places I have been fortunate enough to visit and live. And since this particular place is on the continental divide, it all goes downhill from here. Glacier is actually one of only a few places on the planet known as a triple divide. Water goes not only to the west and east, to the Pacific and Atlantic. It also flows north to the Hudson Bay. That means its as clean as the day the Earth took its first breath. Despite our best efforts to mine it and put cattle on it before it was a park. Thank goodness it wasn’t profitable for either. There are still active mining claims in Glacier National Park that could be worked if the owners chose.

The Going to the Sun Road is the only road to go through the park. 

My fears about the road construction were founded. We waited in two spots for a long time. The first: road construction. The second: a near hour long bear jam! A grizzly, which we did not see. Nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of us near our trailhead. The guy working construction said it was the biggest one he had ever seen in 20 years of working in the park. A big cinnamon male. The unique off colors, my favorite. The rangers were just loading their shotguns back into their car, disappointed they didn't get to shoot a defenseless berry and bug eating animal with bean bags or cracker shells(or worse).

I was excited to hear the news about the bear sighting. Always hoping to see one myself.  Always! Despite Janes best wishes. And I would have LOVED to show the 16 year old a big beautiful griz and how amazing they are to watch move. All that hair bristling. Hiding their gaunt human like frames. 

This bear jam was not met with positivity. Even the grandfather and the grand daughter made a few jokes about how I was lying about there being little chance to see a bear.

In the van before we parked I defused the situation as much as I could. All of us sweating. Some from the heat. 

At the trailhead we lucked into a parking space immediately! Unbelievable, truly. The park visitation has set records for years in a row now. Parking is abysmal typically at this hour. It was hot, the sun was screaming at us. We prepared to leave and were all quickly ready to go. All except for one of us: Jane. She refused to get out of the van. Demanding assurances that there would be no bears in sight.

For several minutes I laughed and joked refusing to say we would NOT see a bear. Just messing with her. Frustrated, yet, for some reason—on this day I did not give in. I did not lie(I never “lie” while guiding—but sometimes I might say something to make someone happier—sugar coat it a little—for safety reasons…). I did not sugar coat it. Still a little upset at being chastised in the van due to the recent bear siting, I said plainly, “Bears inhabit every square inch of this park. Although highly unlikely! It is possible we can see a bear today. Although I will do everything I can to prevent it.” Having no idea what that would be. I am just glad I did not give in. You can guess where this is going…

The terminus of todays hike would be Virginia Falls, passing by St. Mary Falls. St. Mary and Virginia falls as a hike is every bit as dangerous as Avalanche Lake. Toddlers and the immobile struggle here. For everyone else its pretty much a walk in the park. And they come to walk. Boy do they come to St. Mary and Virginia Falls. 

Every type of person is possible to be seen on this trail. Ranger led hikes, families from Ohio, Continental Divide Trail Hikers (its on the CDT), Mennonites, Amish, Native Americans from the local Blackfeet Nation, toddlers and people with mobility issues. To say it is backcountry wilderness would invite debate by more than a few of the people familiar with it. But it is.

As we hike and the guests see the other trail users, I reassure them chances of seeing a bear on this trail are very close to zero. I continue, “ And besides, look at these people. We can easily outrun most of them.” 

And this IS true! We can outrun most of these people. But that is the last thing we would want to do. If you run from a non threatening bear you can actually trigger its predatory instinct and CAUSE it to run after you—maybe worse. I tell them this. And I assure them of our safety because I also know that a bear has never attacked four or more people hiking in a group on the trail in this park. Encouraging them to stay close. And on this day. I will end up saying these exact words many more times…

From the road and trailhead you see beautiful Virginia Falls. Its displacement of air in the form of a strong wind from its eighty foot lush early summer runoff waterfall can blast your hat off of your body. The mist can soak you in seconds even at forty to fifty feet away. It’s quite powerful to approach. It’s impressive. Go there in early July. You will feel its power. Flowers live in that spray zone nurtured by its gentle and constant watering. I always point out some of my favorite flowers to guests there: tiny purple shooting stars and others at the pool near the base of the falls. Also nearby at the fork in the trail to the lower observation point One Leaf Wintergreen can be found. Flowering in the early July at this spot, its single tiny flower points down. I love this flower for multiple reasons. Its tiny size, only a few inches. Its small flower, both beautiful and incredibly unique. The center of it jutting out, shaped, reminding me of cast iron designs of industrial tools from the turn of the century. It can also grow in near complete darkness, under logs and rocks if need be, but doesn’t have to. It also boasts one of the tiniest seeds on the planet of any flower. It is quite common in the Sierras on the west coast. Far rarer here.

The hike to get there is about a three quarter mile hike down to St. Mary Falls and then back up a three quarter of a mile hike to Virginia Falls. You hike down and then back up a few hundred feet each way. It’s a little taxing if its summer, full sun, and little to no wind. Which is what today is exactly. The heat does not phase me. And I love this hike. I used to really very much enjoy many other hikes far more that St. Mary Virginia Falls, (as we call it). Frankly, I used to not like this hike at all if you can believe that. It used to be a complete treed green tunnel hike. You couldn’t see anything. And you were hiking under canopy nearly the whole time. It was buggy and boring. But after the Reynolds Creek Fire of 2015, there is a massive sweeping view of the entire east side of the park. It is stunning. Going to the Sun Mountain, Dusty Star Mountain, and several other vault all around you. The creek rushing by drowns out the faint whisper of the traffic on the road. Its breeze is cooling in the high heat of the day. At the creek you can see moose, rare swifts and ducks.

We stop at St. Mary Falls and I wonder as I always do when I visit it how I would attempt to descend it in a kayak. I still have not come up with a safe route.

We opt to eat lunch later on the hike somewhere in the shade and with less people. I am starving. The poached eggs and toast were tiny. And my little hangover I was convincing myself I was not feeling was convincing me otherwise. Guiding is hard on you in many ways.

We continued on up the trail. Passing the small shelves of waterfalls which are so beautiful people actually think THEY are Virginia Falls and turn around to go back to the trailhead, missing the 80 foot cascade. These little falls are stunning. And fun to climb on. I see several families letting their kids do just that. I remember back to my childhood how my father would prioritize taking us to different parks and letting us run a muck in the wilderness. I always accredit him for my love of the outdoors because of it. 

We make our way up the trail ascending now towards Virginia. Named after somebodies daughter. Not a native name. 

We stop to take a break. It is VERY hot. Jane and her husband are in great shape. But they are from low elevation and feeling it. I am feeling it. It’s the point in the day where even the trees seem to be still, trying to wait out the heat. Trees can get sunburned also. We stop in the shade just off the trail. A bend in the trail at the top of a small rise. A dried up creek bed offers several shaded seats comfortably raised off the ground. A family of four sits silently there eating PB&J’s. We respect their space and silence and try not to bother them. 

My troop sits down not to far from the PB&Jer’s to cool off. I stand close to the trail trying to identify what I think is Lewis’ Monkey Flower which is bearing no flowers yet when a strange noise floats in on the faintest of dry hot winds. 

Screaming. 

Distant at first. 

But, shortly, as if they turned a corner immediately audible.  

The calm and serenity of the park is shattered for me immediately. 

I turn to the guests who are unaware of anything. I look at the family of four eating PB&Js in the shade with us and say, “You hear that?” I pause, cocking my head to one side for a better sound, “Someone screaming?”

No-one hears it but me at first. 

It gets a little louder.

Everything that is about to happen takes place in under 90 seconds. From the time I start speaking until I turn and say “Wasn’t that awesome!”

“Listen”, I continue. 

The noise can be heard by everyone now. It is definitely a person screaming.

Everyone perks up at this point curious. What is this person yelling about?

I ask everyone to be quite. Afraid a child has fallen off of one of the shelves we sped by a few minutes ago. I always hate to see visitors get injured in the park. As a guide in Glacier I felt a deep and profound obligation to assist anyone in need in the backcountry. Although I would obviously prefer to not have to deal with it. Unfortunately I have been involved in numerous backcountry medical situations—nearly all were NOT guests on my trip. All survived and are well today. 

Holding up my finger for quite as I try to discern what is being screamed, I drop my hand and start shaking my head. 

I am actually a little relieved when I hear a crazy person huffing the word “bear” loudly. I turn to the family of four we have interrupted and to my guests sitting in the shade and say, “Sorry. False alarm. It’s a crazy person yelling ‘bear’ on the trail trying to announce their presence and scare animals away.” 

And thats what it did indeed sounded like. We all agreed. 

Everyone relaxes back into vacation mode. Tired, hot and or enjoying a PB&J.

Jane glares at me. I am too hot to care and turn smiling a little.

The yelling gets louder. And it’s disturbing. 

I meander back towards the trail and warn everyone, “Just want to let you know, when this crazy person walks by I am going to demand that they not yell bear like this. They are going to freak people out. This is crazy.”

We stand in silence a few moments longer. A tension builds in the air. Even the still trees, trying to avoid the heat of the sun seem to fidget—the yelling getting louder. A mans head crests the trail. The yelling from far behind him all of a sudden even louder, crazier, and more off-putting, disturbingly guttural. 

The man is rushing. His two children hands clasped tightly in his giant hands pulling them forward, as fast as he can walk. 

When I see the look on the children’s faces I know EXACTLY what is happening. I start laughing in disbelief and shoot a wide eyed look at my new best friends. Then I spring into action:

I say “Sir, are you OK? Is there a bear? Has it contacted anyone, or is it running?” as I loosen my 1st bear spray canister from its holster.

He gasps, out of breath and panicking, “There is a bear chasing us up the trail. It has not harmed anyone.”

I go through my schtick. I rifle out as quickly as it can be said:

“A bear has never attacked 4 or more people in Glacier National Park. If you run from this bear it could trigger its predatory instinct to attack and actually tcasue it to make contact. Stay with us, get into a group, pull out your camera and get ready for an awesome photo!”

I say this 10 plus more times as families from Minnesota, old couples from North Carolina, and Amish from Michigan all gather into a terrified and helpless group behind me. They all waddled up the trail together staying in a group as best they could, being driven by an out of shape, extremely overwhelmed park visitor who was in fear for their life. I will refer to them as a genderless, ageless individual to not further any stereotypes. 

And shortly behind this lone individual evidently was a bear. Which we have not seen yet.

ALL of this is unfolding in front of Jane. I almost forget. I look at her. She is beside herself. I loosen my second can of bear spray and hand it to her husband. I say what I tell everyone when I hand them my second can, “Listen to my instructions completely. And if you spray this, try NOT to spray me in the face, if you can help it.”

I calm everyone in this newly formed group of 20 people down, repeating: “we are in no danger and to get ready to witness an amazing animal up close and personal.” 

At this moment the only dangerous component of the scenario appears: the crazed person yelling “bear”. 

As this park patron crests the trail we lock eyes. If you have never encountered a person in complete hysterics it can be both funny and terrifying at the same time. Funny, because they are out of their mind. Terrifying, because they are out of their mind—and can do very dangerous things.

As soon as this person saw me our eyes met and they said in a low guttural voice, panting,”There’s a bear….coming…run….for your liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiives….” 

They drug the word ‘lives’ out way to long and in such a deep way I could tell they were hyperventilating. This was a very serious situation. Scary. And very funny.

I yelled a few things followed by, “…yer freaking everybody out! Stop screaming! A bear has never attacked four or more people…yotta yotta…get into a group. IF you run you can trigger a predatory…you know the spiel.

This person did not respond, although I do believe they heard deep down, because they ran to our protective group and continued past our group of 20 plus ‘survivors’ and continued up the dry creek bed coming to rest after tripping & injuring themselves quite badly. I was aware of this but focused elsewhere.

I knew the bear was at hand. I stared into Jane’s horrified and helpless eyes and smiled one last time telling her and everyone “It’s OK. This is no big deal. Happens all the time. And please try to get a picture of me and the bear.” 

I trembled wondering what was about to happen. I quickly wished one of my family members was here to witness this. THEY would have thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen in their life. Not the situation. ME being ‘in charge’ of the situation…

I stood in front of the group. In between them and sure danger. Feet from them, and feet from the trail at a slight angle. 

I said “Silence.” Raised my one can of bear spray, now with the safety off and pointed it towards the trail. We all held our breath.

I stood tall. Laughing on the inside, honestly, thinking, “I wish my family were here to see this. They would laugh their ass off.”

And then the bear crested the trail. Its light brown hair beautiful and oily. I could see only its giant head. I breathed deeply taking in its beauty. I turned my head slightly to the crowd trying one last time to calm them saying, “Oh he's just a little…”

My words trailed off into humble silence. I shrank back turning away from the bear in submission, covering my groin for some reason. 

I tried to say, “Oh, he’s just a little guy”. But I couldn’t. The head and ears looked normal for a grizzly. Big, but normal. The body however was like a VW bug automobile covered with fur. A beautiful massive cinnamon bear. Most likely the same one from the bear jam earlier. Just a few feet away from me. Maybe 6 feet at the most. My heart fluttered. My knees were wobbly. The 20 plus terrified people just a few feet behind me: silent. Jane: out of her mind. The family of four who just 70 seconds ago was sitting in peaceful silence eating peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches: opened mouthed & stunned. ALL OF US WAY TO CLOSE TO THIS BEAR!

I shrank in silence. pointing the bear spray more at the head of the massive beast only a few feet away. 

The bear silently approached us on the trail. Followed the trail around the little corner close to us. And disappeared around the corner up the trail. Its eyes passed over us as it made the turn for the corner and did not make eye contact. It didn't even change focus. Didn't even seem to acknowledge we were there. It made almost no sound except for the sound of large breaths being taken as it lumbered closely by. One of the most exhilarating noises you can hear. I promise you. Please take my word for it and do not attempt to put yourself in this type of position. 

I snapped back to reality and into character. Turning to the crowd of dumbstruck horrified people. “Wasn’t that awesome!”

Trying one last time to calm the petrified children, the sweating parents, Jane and her family, the Amish and the family sitting gaping mouthed, their PB&J unchewed, dangling.

I say only a few words, “Now it is safe to return to the parking lot, but—“

A thundering herd of tourists descends the trail from which they just lumbered up in terror, towards home and perceived safety. The way they had all just been “chased up” by the bear. Leaving me with Jane literally hitting me in the arm and a family struggling to make sense of what just happened forgetting about their PB&J’s. 

As Jane hit me. I laughed hard. I told her, “See, this is safe! You got to witness how safe it was! See. Nothing to be afraid of. And I was here with you to keep you safe the whole time. Wasn’t that AMAZING! What a story you have now!”

And it was true. We were never in any danger. Except for the panicking person who fell and injured themselves. 

These types of experiences only happen a few times in ones life. And we were lucky to all be together at that moment. And Jane, I think knew it deep down.

As she continued to hit me, her granddaughter seemed to take her side and start to become apprehensive about continuing.

As I am saying, “…now this sounds crazy. But I am going to recommend we wait a few minutes and continue. The bear is gone and he is just traveling to his summer feeding grounds.” 

As I am stating my case, and laughing, and being hit, children descend the trail from the direction the bear had just disappeared on. No joke. I swear on my favorite pair of lightweight low top hiking shoes. Now keep in mind this is less than a minute after this six to seven hundred pound behemoth beast just lumbered by. Children. 8-10 of them walk playfully by from that direction.

We are all taken aback. Jane, myself, the PB&J eaters. We cannot believe what we are seeing. 

Stunned, I say, “Kids! Kids, where are your adults?”

The oldest, around 12 says, “back there.” Motioning behind her.

I stammer out, “uh…did you guys see a bear?”

She responds, “YEAH! A big one!”

“What happened? I ask quietly in disbelief.

The kid said, “It was walking on the trail, and we saw it and stopped. And it looked at us.” She motioned like someone looking over both shoulders of a person in front of you, “and it turned and went into the woods.”

And the kids walked on. Their parents walking a minute behind them. Not understanding what Jane or the PB&J family blurt out as they pass about there being a bear on the trail, but gone already, and you need to hike with your kids.

And of course, no one got a picture of me and the bear. People shot either the bear or me. But not both of us together. But thats how those instances always go.

I say this story to almost every group I take out. Not because it’s especially entertaining, or especially exciting and dangerous. DEFINITELY not because it makes me out to be some sort of hero. I tell this story to everyone I take out because it is a perfect illustration of the genius of these animals. That bear chased 20 plus people up that trail. I like to think it was amused a little. But when it encountered 8-10 kids, it took a second look and decided not to mess with the human cubs and disappeared into the brush.

It KNEW better! Or, didn't want to risk hurting the young ones. It was not dangerous. And it knew far more than we give it credit for. (Not all bears are like this—but there is a much longer explanation there having to do with range size and migrating prey species and bears access to them—thats another story…)

And with this knowledge. I convinced my new best friends from Nashville to continue up the trail to Virginia Falls. And we did. 

Just a minute up the trail we encountered a photographer. He and his wife were looking at his camera and beaming. I did not ask what they were looking at, just asked to see. It was exactly what I was hoping for. Two beautiful pictures of the grizzly. Massive claws visible in one of the photos. 

Later, I kicked myself for not asking for his contact information. Those are rare photos indeed to get.

The rest of the hike was uneventful except for the astoundingly beautiful panoramic in every direction and the massive thundering Virginia Falls. We returned to the van. And I was to drive them back to the Glacier Guides lodge. The nicest place to stay in West Glacier. On our way back up and over the pass I had to stop in the Logan Pass Ranger Station and see if any friends were working to share my funny afternoon. When I got there a good ranger friend was working behind the information desk with someone I loosely knew. She said, “Oh my gosh, Jeremy, how’s it going. I was just thinking of you and the other guides. Crazy day! We have reports of a bear chasing and attacking like twenty people and a guy, evidently some guide, jumped in front of them and fought it off!”

My Nashville friends looked at me wide eyed. I smiled and said, “Let me tell you what really happened…” With witnesses to confirm the story. 

We had a magical day. Pushed some boundaries. Had a beautiful, albeit hot hike. A family bonded and a 16 year old girl fulfilled her wish of seeing the majesty and the wildness that is Glacier National Park. It was one of those days you don't want to end. Which is why I found myself at their hotel saying goodbye, hugging, promising to keep in touch. All of us happy. And more than one of us a little choked up. I loved these guys. Just as I was about to get into my vehicle and drive back to the office a car rolled into the small Glacier Guides Hotel parking lot. It parked next to me. We all stared in shock as the photographer and his wife we had encountered on the trail got out of the car. 

I begged him for copies of the photos of the grizzly. He agreed to give me the images of the bear on a jump drive. And he told us once again what had happened to him and his wife:

“They were on the trail walking back from the falls when he looked up and spotted the bear. He was a well traveled photographer and knew how rare this instance was. He pulled out his camera and started shooting. Assuring his wife the bear would be scared off by their presence and get off the trail. They stayed put shooting. The bear approached and did not stop. At the last second the photographer dropped his camera from his eye and just stepped off the trail nudging his wife to do the same. The bear walked right by, only a foot or two away.”

Smart bears, most of them. Dumb people, most of us. And a questionable guy from Kentucky getting paid to lead a trip into the wilderness.

I was tipped handsomely. 

My hiking companions were happy with their experience. Jane most of all. I like to think Jane was really so happy because she realized I was right about these bears and about wilderness in general. It sounds a little cheesy. But it’s true. And I firmly believe its what drives us to visit natural spaces. Nature, animals, bugs and snakes are not our enemy—the wilderness is our refuge and place of learning. IF you know how, where and when to go. But you only learn this from going out there! And sometimes, in some places, you need somebody to show you the way. Then you can learn how and go forth to design your own adventures safely.

The next day my boss called me to the office from my campsite(normally, not a good thing). 

I was not working that day, a rarity. Convalescing in my tent. I apprehensively approached and opened the door to the office. 

My friends from Nashville were waiting in the lobby. The bosses, and office staff were all standing with big smiles on their faces. 

“Your hiking companions here are just telling us the story of how you saved a bunch of people from a bear and how you are a big hero! Also brought by more tip money (another $100). What exactly happened out there—Hero?”

I laughed and smiled and said, “Ah, it was nothing. Just another day on the trail for a guide…”

We all laughed as they retold the story a few more times and then left to catch their flight home to Tennessee.

My bosses all laughed and joked with me. And for about 3 hours a few people called me “Hero” around Camp Winnakee, our guide camp. But those types of nicknames don't last in this industry. Our egos are already big enough.