6 years ago this summer, I was taking my first long-distance motocamping overland trip. I left Minneapolis and gave myself 3 weeks to go to the Pacific ocean and back, hitting Seattle, Yellowstone, Glacier, the North Dakota Oil fields, and everything in between. It's Season 3 of 2W1C. You should check out all 80-some-odd episodes, they're pretty great.
Anyway, during this trip, when I found myself in Montana's mining backcountry, I decided to challenge myself and stay at a campsite near the Garnet Ghost Town. It was a dispersed campsite, meaning no bathrooms, no water, no campground, just the tent and the stars. Oh, and Cohete, my old motorcycle.
I was two weeks in, and I thought I was hot shit for making it so far. Things were going great and I was able to push myself to new extremes now that I'd been established on the road.
Those nights at that site, though? I was terrified at times. It's grizzly country. I had bear mace and a machete, no bear bag, and no way of contacting anyone. I made it through, but every little sound outside my tent terrified me. There are a lot of things that wake up in the night, looking for food or mates-- you know, nocturnal life.
Bears were the main concern, of course. The thought of one coming up to my tent seemed like and endgame scenario. There would be an obituary or headline reading: "Minnesota Motorcyclist Made into Mince Meat and Mauled by Midnight Marauder" and I'd be another one of those rows on the Wikipedia list of deaths by bears in North America. Surprisingly few, I might add.
Harking back to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, to roughly quote: "There are known knowns, some known unknowns, and then unknown unknowns." In my mind, bears found themselves ranked in the 'unknown unknowns' categories of my psyche.
This is now no longer the case.
After spending 2 months in Canada and Alaska, after being cast into the far reaches of North America's arctic interior, after spending night after night in their territory, their stomping grounds, I've come to know more about the largest carnivores in our hemisphere.
After spending time watching them in Hyder at the Salmon Spawning grounds of Fish Creek, I was able to observe them up close. In 2006's Best Picture "The Departed", Jack Nicolson plays unhinged mob boss named Frank Costello. After waving a pistol in the face of Leonardo DiCaprio's character, he mutters the line, "You can learn a lot, watching things eat." And I have. Watching them from the observation deck in Hyder helped me understand their nature
In Hyder, as I was indulging myself on the M&M version of one of her signature sweets, Ms. Fudge was able to give me a few of her best bear stories.
Bear Story 1: Bop the Bear
Ms. Fudge grew up around horses, and as she was working in the garden one day, one of her horses sniffed her plumbers crack. She turned around and bopped the horse on the head. Growing up around them, she knew that horse's skulls make a hollow *thunk* sound when bopped. The horse proceeded to do it one or two more times, getting bopped each time.
Then, after another sniff at her behind, she turned around and bopped one last time but she didn't hear the hollow sound. A bear had come up behind her and had been sniffing her while she was gardening and she absent-mindedly slapped a full grown brown bear on the muzzle. They both panicked and retreated from the scene.
Bear Story 2: The Friendly One
Ms. Fudge and the rest of Hyder burn their trash at a 'burn unit' down at the local dump.
Every time Ms. Fudge would go there, there'd be a brown bear she'd shoo away every time she'd come by. It wouldn't run into the forest, but rather retreat to a safe vantage point and just watch. He wouldn't hurt anyone, he'd always listen, but he HAD to watch from a distance. He eventually had become too buddy-buddy with the locals and it was time to relocate him. If he had become any more friendly with the people of Hyder, there was a high chance he would either cause an incident or be euthanized.
When the authorities had found him and tranquilized him, they knew they would have to track him down fast in case he decides to fall over unconscious in a puddle and drown. Upon finding him, Ms. Fudge affectionately held the friendly brown bear in her lap, listening to him sleep soundly before he was relocated to parts unknown, far away in the Alaskan wilderness.
After she came home, her dog was in a panic, jumping around on furniture and barking incessantly at Ms. Fudge because she had come home smelling of bear. It must've been very confusing.
Bear Story 3: The Wrong Neighborhood
Ms. Fudge had been working outside of her shop when she was approached by two black bears in her back yard. She assumes it was a mother and a large cub that had not yet grown out of the watchful eye of its mom. Having dealt with bears hundreds of times before, Ms. Fudge waved her hands, made herself big, stomped and attempted to shoo the bears away. Seeing she was outnumbered, the bears looked at each other, looked at Ms. Fudge, and decided "Nah, we're going to keep walking toward you anyway".
Ms. Fudge then felt the Fear. She knew if she ran she'd be completely overrun, so she grabbed a nearby metal object and banged it on her car and on the metal siding of the building. Luckily, the loud noises were enough to spook the bear and they retreated back into the forest.
You see, I've learned a lot here. Bears are large killing machines but they're ultimately skittish, immature, curious beasts. You never want to get the jump on one, so always make yourself known. Give them a chance to know that you're there. Black bears and Brown bears are quite different, and even Ms. Fudge said she knows 'her own bears' that live in her area in the Alaskan fjords as opposed to those in the interior of the continent. I'm not going to pretend to be an expert, and I suggest you read up on official sources on what to do when you come up against one rather than listen to me.
As I sit here at the Rose Lake campsite, typing this up, my tent is drying on the picnic table next to me. Last night, I spent the night here listening to all kinds of sounds in the night. Before, I used to hold my breath, my hair would stand on end, and my heart would grip with fear as I listen closely to see if the sounds were getting closer. Now, I listen for the signature sounds and if it's what I think it is, I say loudly and in an annoyed voice "That better not be a bear out there or I'm going to mace your ass."
I now have the confidence to say I can identify at least the -type- of animal they are by their sounds.
The light pitter patter of leaves by rodents or small birds.
The rustling of bushes and calculated heavier steps of deer and elk with their pencil-like legs.
Bear? They're like blindfolding an overweight child and telling them to walk through a thicket. Bears are loud, they break twigs like crazy, and you'll see them coming by the movement of the foliage. They don't stalk you feline-style like bobcats or lynx. If it's one of these brutes, you'll know. Or at least, I do now.
JT - 8/25/2022