Discover more from The Grizzly Bear Diaries
Pure Hollywood
(This video is of two young grizzlies high in the mountains above the lodge cooling off. We captured the footage as part of our trail camera project which has been running for several years.)
We have had a few episodes of pure Hollywood at Wild Bear Lodge over the years - moments so perfect, or unlikely, that had they been on the big screen audiences would have rolled their eyes and groaned.
There was the time in the early years when we were pestered, even hounded, by a paranoid policeman who decided we were in cahoots with drug-runners operating a black helicopter in our valley at night.
That in itself was fantastic enough. There are less than a dozen souls in the upper 20 miles of our valley and to imagine that one of those hard-working folk was a mole for the Cali Cartel, El Chapo or Cosa Nostra was, well, imaginative.
For weeks the Mountie - a small man festooned with badges and with multiple gadgets Velcro-ed to his body - would arrive unbidden. He would ask if I knew anything of a black helicopter - I didn't. He asked if I had seen a black helicopter. I hadn't. Had I perhaps heard a helicopter?
In answer to the last question I should have simply said 'no'. But instead the imp in me surfaced and I mused audibly (and untruthfully) that perhaps I had heard a strange whoop-whoop-whoop over the river in the dead of night.
"Could it have been a helicopter?" The gumshoe's breath quickened.
"Well, I suppose, it could have been….." I drew out my words.
Eventually the man from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police realised I was mocking him. Then his face darkened and his eyes narrowed. He stomped across the yard, climbed up into his police truck, and left.
As luck would have it a few days later the bucolic calm of the valley really was disturbed by the sound of churning blades. I walked out into the yard to see what was happening, expecting a helicopter to pass high overhead, or possibly fly up the river.
(The government occasionally counts the salmon in our river from the air to assess whether the population is healthy. They then, for some reason, enact policies to try and ensure that they are not. But that's another story.)
As I watched, the helicopter, a gleaming beast with orange and white livery, came closer and closer until it was hovering right about me. The trees were swaying, the horses were galloping around their paddock, and our young puppies, excited and dismayed, began to yip and howl.
Then the machine lowered its lozenge-shaped torso onto our lawn, blades thumping furiously. And at that very moment - and I know the timing beggars belief - the diminutive Mountie and his outsized truck turned into the top of our driveway.
As the man in uniform pulled into the yard and dismounted from his automotive steed the bird finally settled and its rotors began to spool down.
I stood, mouth agape. I looked at the Mountie. His face was darkening as the sky does when the clouds rolls in after a hot summer afternoon.
This human bloodhound was clearly on a trail as he moved to approach me.
But a helicopter is a helicopter and demands a certain respect. In my world - perhaps because I am an airplane nerd - it outranks the fuzz. And so, motioning that I would be back in just a second, I ran towards the chopper.
The pilot was unsure what to do. He was as wary of the law as anyone else and smelled trouble, or at least that his was an untimely intrusion.
"We used to store fuel up here with the old owner," he said, his smile turning to a slight frown as he took in the smouldering constable. "I was wondering…." His voice began to trail off.
"But I can see this is not a good time," he said finally.
With that he reached inside his jacket, pulled out a business card and handed it to me. And then he hopped back into the helicopter, the rotors wound up, and he lifted off.
I knew, of course, how it all looked to the Mountie. I had vehemently and repeatedly denied that I had even heard rumour of a helicopter in the valley. And then this…
To make matters worse, he had seen the pilot (furtively) hand me something and me push that suspicious something deep into my pocket away from prying eyes.
I walked toward him.
"I can explain," I said.
But by now I had a silly smirk on my lips. He was red in the face and sizzling like bacon in a frying pan. For a moment I thought he might even draw his riot stick or one of his other accessories and set about me with it.
Then he spluttered: "I don't want any explanations!"
With that he jumped back in his truck and sped off back up the driveway. (In time he would be back, but that, too, is another story.)
So that was the Mountie and the helicopter incident. But there have been others too - unlikely stories from the wilds of British Columbia that have been burnished in the telling around our dinner table, or in front of the crackling log fire in the main house.
The lodge is, after all, my home, and enjoying the views over the river and a tipple and a chat after dinner with guests is one of my perks.
There was the time when a black bear tore up the upholstery on our mountain buggy as our guests were out for a hike in the mountains, and then stole one of our guide's helmets, only to return it to the scene of the crime later.
Or the time when a friend got bear spray all over his hands - a chemical significantly spicier than Tabasco - and then went for a pee in the woods. You can imagine what happened next.
But for pure fairy-tale quality, there was the bears that appeared on the last hour of the last day of the last season before Covid closed the lodge for two years.
We were sitting in the sauna with some of our favourite guests, regulars who have returned several times. It had been a wonderful four days and we were now on a platform over our mountain river relaxing and reliving some of the best moments.
And then, just as the sun dipped behind the mountains, and the last glow of the day faded, there, right across the river from us, appeared a mother grizzly bear and a cub.
We watched in awed silence as she slowly meandered down the river, pawing the shallows for salmon, with the cub following dutifully behind.
Set against the old-growth trees - tall, silent, cathedral-like - and the snow-capped mountains that framed the view, it was a moment of pure Canadian wilderness magic.
(Since then we have added a small, elegant wooden plunge pool to our sauna deck, and now have the wood-fired hot tub running.)
If that sounds tempting we do still have space in mid and late October this year - the peak time for grizzly viewing in our valley. (We are fully-booked for late September and early October.)
We even have one or two dates when we could customise our holidays to fit around your fantasies (and possibly your budget).
An overnight in the sub-alpine in bear country? A whole-family reunion in a gorgeous spot? A quiet few days spent unwinding, watching the river, and reading? Send us your ideas….
What we have is, at least sometimes, every bit as good as what Hollywood can offer. And life is so much better lived in the raw than in front of a big screen.
NEWS & LINKS
+ Kim and I are off to Ukraine for two weeks on Monday to put some of the finishing touches to our Wounded Veterans Project. Several women have now applied as well as many men and we will be meeting some of them next week. After that we will travel to south-eastern Ukraine and spend the weekend with a local group that is already taking veterans into nature as a way to help them heal. We will be bringing six or more wounded veterans to the lodge for wilderness skills training and to give them a chance to recuperate in one of the world's nicer spots. We have had some problems - including a significant change to Canada's visa process for Ukrainians - and some advances, and will bring you a full update soon. Wild Bear Lodge is paying the largest share of the costs and many of you have also given very generously. But we are still a little short, so donations are still gratefully received.
+ Again thanks to all of you who have sent us notes worrying about the wildfires and how they are impacting us. We are, thankfully, not affected.
+ If you think you might want to visit this year, drop me a line on julius@wildbearlodge.ca and I will send an e-brochure and more information. You can also look here: https://wildbearlodge.ca/bear-viewing/autumn-grizzly-viewing/.