Bears, Dogs, Mystery, and High Country

A few years ago me and the dogs were up in the Wind River Mountains in September, during a windstorm, coming downhill through a thick grove of whitebark pines, all short, about 15 feet high, since we were not far from timberline. About the same time I noticed the pines were absolutely full of mature cones, I saw the dogs had picked up a strong scent, which excited then immensely. I have always wondered if we chased off a grizzly that was foraging in the pines. White park pine cones are the grizzlies favorite food in the fall, and this spot was teeming with them.

It will remain a mystery though, just like the time something walked into the perimeter of my camp on the east side of the Teton valley. I might be stupid enough to backpack where there are grizzlies, but I have retained enough sense to being cautious, because you know I have these dogs with me that I want to take care of. When I camp in heavy grizzly country I wind a line of 25 pound fishing line around tree trunks near camp. I attach the fishing line to two or three personal alarm with 9 volt batteries. When an animal walks into camp it will push in the fishing line set about 3 feet off the ground, and trigger one or more of the alarms.

I figured my alarm would never go off, but at 3:30am on the second night of camping I awoke with it blaring away. I yelled to chase off whatever tripped it, tied Ben and Maggie to a tree, then went out to turn off the alarms. Then I found something was still out there watching, and decided to leave as the quiet returned to the forest. At that point I heard heavy footsteps, knocking over rocks, flushing a grouse, and rambling down a ridge. Likely a grizzly, but a mystery. I stayed awake til dawn.

An then last somewhere, just west of Yellowstone, in the Madison Range. Me and Ben and Maggie were an hour up the trail, right after sunrise when I got a glimpse of something dark watching me from behind an evergreen, twenty feet ahead. About that time you tend to remember the yellow Montana Fish and Wildlife sign down at the trailhead that said 'Warning, Grizzly Bears in Areas.' I wondered if it would charge out from behind the tree as I grabbed for my large canistor of pepper spray at my waist. In my excitement I pressed too hard as I flipped off the safety tab, releasing a small cloud of pepper spray up and to my left. Some of it drifted down across my face.

I can attest to the potency of Counter Assault Bear Deterrent. It is designed to irritate tender skin and eyes and it surely damn does. My skin immediately burned like fire, and I could barely see.

Now that is the just the sort of thing that can happen in the presence of a large bear. Simple things become difficult. A hunter once pulled the trigger time after time as a wounded bear charged him, with no results. His gun was examined after he died. It was in good condition, but the safety lever had not been flipped up.

I managed to keep my composure somewhat, and strained hard so I could see what was coming. (pause)

What I saw a black cow walk from behind the tree. My dogs barked to hurry it off. I dropped to the ground.

After ten minutes of dealing with the pain, I recovered enough to start on again, hoping that my vision would eventually clear. A while later we came to a small stream. I knelt down and splashed water on my face to wash off the residue. That made it hurt worse, and I leaned over in anguish.

Ben and Maggie came by and nuzzled and licked me, concerned for my well being.

There is another good thing about dogs. They stand by you, as true friends, no matter what kind of stupid things you do, oblivious that they have a darn fool for a master.

Those two have backpacked with me since they were just about puppies. When Ben was just barely a year old and Maggie was nine months old, they put their noses into a Grizzly track so fresh that that you could see lines in the dust from wrinkles in the bear's footpad, in the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area just south of Glacier.

On that trip I happened to see a family of otters playing on a streambank, wrestling and sliding down the bank, obviously having a great time. Then all of a sudden they must of sensed my presence, because they vanished.

That's what I attracts me to the mountains and wilderness - the unexpected, like those otters, or a grizzly track, knowing that they ae nearby. I like the unknown at dusk, at morning as the darkness fades. I makes me happy to be somewhere where everything is not all laid out, in long lines and sharp angles, to realize there is something more, the feeling evoked from all that space, all that height, hard ridges to the peak summits, in the shadows of the spruce forests.

And you know I think the greatest beauty has a mystery about it - like those otters, that disappeared, like something watching me from the darkness, like the thousands of stars visible through the tops of the spruce and pines, like the rose alpenglow on a high mountain.

It probably is not coincide that I discover those moments of such beauty on my solitude trips. Alone I expect to witness incredible sights, and never am disappointed. Thoreau said it: "The scarlet oak must, in a sense, be in your eye when you go forth. We cannot see anything until we are possessed with the idea of it, and then we can hardly see anything else.'

So you see I go up there knowing I will experience mystery and beauty, and of course I always do.

I also feel that this mystery and beauty has its origin in the divine. Muir said that no synonym for God is as perfect as beauty.

And so going up there is sort of like a pilgrimage for me, travelling to a sacred place. I am not naive. I know nature is harsh, and that if a meet a mother Grizzly with cubs me and the dogs are in big trouble, but still, at the same time I sense so much holiness up there.

I once had a dream where I was up high, the kind of place I always like to camp, on a ridge at the edge of timberline. From there you can walk up to the vast expanses of the alpine, which as as pure as place of freedom as exists on this earth. You can look down into the tall spruce and fir forests, shady and quiet, where the elk like to take cover. You can see the rocky peaks, and the golden light on them at sunrise, the clouds swirling above them and over their face.

In my dream I had a vision that the end of life might be in a place like that, then solid footing with the earth gives way and you move into it, all, like a hawk soaring during from the mountain top over a forest valley, just beneath the ridges, backed by clouds and snow and the alpine. Now there is a mystery.