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- Johnston Creek, near the Inkpots
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- Luellen Lake
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- Upper Johnston Creek Valley
Bear stories are boring. Actually most animal stories are boring. Everyone tells them. Yet the magic we feel during a close encounter with wildlife is difficult, often impossible, to convey. And most people simply aren’t skilled at story telling. All of us have politely listened to others’ animal stories, feigning interest throughout the tedious litany of unnecessary detail, so it’s best to keep that in mind when we’re tempted to regale our friends about our latest wild-kingdom experience. Regardless how cute that chipmunk was, how crazily that moose behaved, or how much that bear terrified us, we’ll only bore our friends if we burden them with the whole story.
So we’ll be brief here.
On our recent backpack trip up Johnston Creek Valley to Luellen Lake, Pulsatilla Pass, and Badger Pass (Trip 101, page 370, Don’t Waste Your Time in the Canadian Rockies), we encountered a sow grizzly with her cub. We’d been making bear-warning calls (http://www.hikingcamping.com/bear-safety.php), so the bear was not surprised. She heard us approaching and was moving in our direction, clearly coming to check us out, when we spotted one another about 40 metres apart. She continued slowly but confidently striding forward. We scanned the area, assessed the situation, spoke briefly to one another, unholstered our pepper spray, then retreated—all the way back to the trailhead. End of story.
Our point is this: Let the bear be the boss. Bears live in the backcountry. It’s their home. We humans are uninvited guests. Bears generally display remarkable tolerance of human beings. But if we test their patience, it might end tragically—for them as well as us.
Deferring to a bear, in a situation like ours, can be counter-intuitive. “What? Back down? Turn around? Me? Now? No way!” Letting the mere presence of an animal quash our efforts and alter our plans is in direct opposition to what society has taught us about humans being masters of the planet.
We’d started hiking in Johnston Canyon, camped the first night at Luellen Lake, and were in the upper reaches of Johnston Creek Valley, a mere 1 km shy of Badger Junction campground. We intended to camp there, then dayhike to both passes. The weather was magnificent. We’d been unable to shoot good photos of either pass during our previous visits due to rain and low, heavy clouds. Finally, our timing was perfect. So, we admit, we considered maneuvering around the bear and continuing.
But it was apparent this bear and her cub had taken up temporary residence in the area and were disinclined to leave, which made us disinclined to stay. It was a painful decision. Prepping for a backpack trip takes hours. We’d hiked—carrying hefty packs—nearly a day-and-a-half prior to mama bear’s stern greeting. Turning back at that point meant another day-long slog, and a virtually empty camera card. Save for Luellen Lake, the hike had been a scenic zero—a long march through disenchanted forest on a muddy, horse-tromped trail. Finally, our reward was just ahead. We’d soon be surging into the alpine zone. The bear didn’t overtly threaten us, but she tore our trip into tatters.
During the long, rather depressing, down-valley hike, we replayed the situation in our minds, discussed alternatives, pondered our decision, and agreed we’d chosen the wise course of action. We thought we should tell you about it because you could someday find yourself in similar circumstances. Having a frame of reference might help you make a quick, smart decision under pressure.
Remember to make lots of noise on the trail; it’s your best defense. (Download our Bears Beware MP3. Listening to it while driving to the trailhead could save your life.) If you do encounter a bear, remember to let him or her be the boss. And later, though it might seem like a fascinating tale, remember to spare your friends the details.
Click on “comments” (below) to see what others are saying, then join the discussion.
So, in a situation like this, I’d definitely be unwilling to give up the rest of my trip (considering I get 1-2 trips per year). Would it have been a mistake to wait a bit, try to go widely around the bear, and hike further than you had previously planned (to put distance between you & the bears)?
Heck, I’d even consider backtracking a bit (1 mile?), camping for the night & making a go of it the next day.
Is the concern that the next time your in mama-bear’s territory, you may not have such an uneventful encounter (i.e. you won’t spot each other until it’s too late)?
Posted by Dan on July 29th, 2010.
This is a pretty timely story in light of the tragedy down in the Beartooth area:
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE66R5VK20100728?type=domesticNews
Posted by Dan on July 29th, 2010.
Hi Dan, I understand why you’d want to continue despite the bears’ presence. But if you knew the topography, you might think differently. Our next campsite was just a few minutes past where we encountered the bear. And beyond that, the valley ended in steep terrain. So it was largely a dead-end. Camping in a relatively small, enclosed area with a sow and cub? No thanks. Sure, we could have returned to our previous camp and tried again the next day, but we felt lucky to have encountered the bears in a place where they could see us and we them while still at a safe, comfortable distance. The next encounter might have been too close for mama bear to remain at ease. Skirting the bear? Again, it would help if you saw the terrain. We briefly considered that tactic, but we realized we would instantly lose sight of the bears. This would certainly heighten mama bear’s anxiety. And we would, from then on, have no idea how close the bears were to us, or even where they were. Not good. Hastily creating such a precarious situation seemed unwise. For us, we know we did the right thing. I respect your point of view and empathize with your desire to make maximum use of very limited outdoor time. But I’d still urge you to turn back if you were in our boots. Too few days to hike is better than perhaps never hiking again. Live to hike another day.
Posted by hikingcamping on July 29th, 2010.
Your post reminded me, but I forgot to mention that Johnston Canyon/Ink Pots was the first day hike my wife & I *ever* did together. Anywhere!
I remember how beautiful things were and marveling that people were “coming out of the wilderness” with backpacks on. We had a snack at the Inkpots, were assaulted by habituated ground squirrels, and huffed & puffed up the tiny hill. It was a great little hike!
Thanks for the stroll down memory lane!
Posted by Dan on July 30th, 2010.
Here’s the outcome of the story Dan was referring to…
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2010/07/30/128882901/officials-put-mother-grizzly-to-death-for-camper-maulings
That’s extremely unusual behaviour for a grizzly, but it’s a helpful reminder that bears are unpredictable, and it reassures me that Kath and I made the right decision turning around recently when confronted by a sow and cub near our intended campsite beneath Badger and Pulsatilla passes, in the Canadian Rockies.
Posted by hikingcamping on July 31st, 2010.