Cue Dramatic Music

Monday, July 7:

Cue dramatic music.

Today's hike will live in the annals of family lore until the end of days.

(Dramatic enough? Read on.)

 

We went on another first-rate hike today, starting at the Many Glacier Hotel and going on a hike that had loops, out-and-backs, side trips, and some of the most spectacular views we have ever seen. In the past three days, I have had my whole universe shaken. For years I have stood firm that Avalanche Lake on the west side of Glacier is my favorite hike in the world and my favorite place in the world. If cremated, this is where my ashes go. But we have now gone on two hikes – Saturday's Swiftcurrent hike to Bullhead Lake and today's to Grinnell Lake – that have upset that reality. Both are incredible, as good as or better than Avalanche. Today, we got to see another baby moose, this one from about 25 yards away. And today, we had our best-ever wildlife encounter as we spent about 1½ hours in the company of a large brown-colored black bear and her two cubs.

As we came around the head of Lake Josephine (please refer to the map you received upon entering Glacier), we saw the baby moose, just off shore in the shallows. We were quite concerned because a moose is a very large animal and, when agitated, won't hesitate to charge/trample humans. And not much will agitate a mother moose more than hikers getting between her and her baby. Moms, you know what I'm talking about here. But we never saw her. We took a couple of quick photos of the calf, and then moved into the woods. But we didn't get 50 yards before the people just ahead of us stopped. Quickly, the word was passed back through the three or four groups of hikers at that point on the trail to hold. People who have never been in the woods might think that the most dangerous bears are big aggressive males, but the most dangerous interaction is when humans surprise a mother bear with cubs. Moms, you still know what I'm talking about here. So we were all on high alert, pulling bear spray out, talking to the bears calmly yet loudly, and waiting to see what happened. But clearly this is a bear with experience around humans; she wasn't too worried about us, and gradually moved up the trail. After about 100 yards we reached an intersection and tour boat dock, and were trying to warn incoming humans of her presence. But due to the intersecting trails and arrival of a tour boat, there were suddenly 25-30 people in this small section of woods, all trying to get better views and better photos. And a few of them – as always happens – couldn't abide by the rules of the park, the woods, or common sense, and had to get too close. At this point, one of the cubs cried out in fear, and Momma Bear got agitated. And the humans scattered. After a few minutes, making sure the situation was safe, we continued on our merry way to Grinnell Lake.

*Best moment in this whole interaction is when, contrary to the usual version of human surprises bear, our bear surprised three camera-toting tourists who immediately side-stepped away from her with their hands held up above their heads. Dad, whispering: “Does that bear have a gun? Looks like she's robbing them.”

**Second best yet incredibly scary moment was when the dude came off the boat, couldn't figure out why all these crazy people in the woods were screaming at him, and very nearly backed into the bear, cartoon-style.

We had lunch at a near-perfect spot on the shore of Grinnell Lake. It was only near perfect because of how many people were there. Don't all these people know that we want to see nature's beauty without them also seeing nature's beauty? Anyway, 'twas lovely. And then after lunch we hiked up a steep side trail to Hidden Falls. That is what I've been trying to do with our backyard garden pond.

And so, finally, we began our return trip. And, after only about a mile, we ran into an old friend on the trail. This time the trail was narrower, the grasses on the sides were taller and thicker, and there was nowhere for any of us – human or bear – to be but on the trail. After just a minute or two, there were eleven of us all in a group, gently, firmly, talking to the bear. She was ahead of us and heading the same direction, and we realized after a few minutes that she was actually our hike leader. A very large, very hairy hike leader. For probably a mile we walked together. She would walk out, the cubs would climb a tree (OMG they are soooooooooo cute!!!!), she would restart, and we would move to where they had just been. It almost became routine. And then suddenly we came upon a bend in the trail, with the grass and weeds three to four feet high, and we couldn't see them anymore. And we talked. “Hey bear!” “Good bear!” Pretty bear!” “Here come the humans!” And stepped verrrrrry slowly, and then suddenly there she was, coming back to us, not 10 yards away. There was just a moment of stumbling panic until everyone remembered their training: Back away, don't turn. Don't make eye contact. Whatever you do, don't run. And so we backed up as quickly as eleven people in tall grass on a boardwalk with no room or possible escape can back up. And she kept coming toward us. Until finally, she stopped, looked up the hill, and led her cubs up that hill, through the woods, and away from us. It turns out that she had just been daydreaming and missed her exit.

An hour later we arrived back at the trailhead, and the sublime joy of indoor plumbing at the Many Glacier Hotel.

All told, we spent 4½ hours on the trail, and hiked 8¾ miles.

p.s. We will upload fantastic bear pics and unbelievably cute cub-up-a-tree pics as soon as we get them from Dad.