Two falls and a slide
A spring walk in the Canadian woods
It’s the time of year to get out and explore the trails, work off the winter lethargy, and get the dog back into shape. But not every hike goes exactly to plan.
If anyone fancies a bit of autumn grizzly bear viewing I still have a few spots in mid October. Please drop me a line on julius@wildbearlodge.ca or check out wildbearlodge.ca.
It was an afternoon hike I used to make annually - but it had been the best part of a decade since I last attempted it.
Across the river on the old bailey bridge, north along the airstrip, and then an hour or so through old growth trees along a bench of land that runs along the bottom of the valley.
From there you pick your point, scramble about 1,000 vertical feet up some steep forested terrain hanging onto foliage to keep you from sliding, and complete the circle along an old logging track.
All in, assuming no mishap or drama, the loop should take about three hours. I was accompanied by a very happy German Shepherd, who is not in the first flush of youth, but still keen.
For the first hour the hike (more a walk really) was uneventful. I criss-crossed a fading path I had marked out a few years back amid ancient trees and around deadfall.
Then I picked up a wildlife trail used by bears, elk and deer.
At one point, close to the river, I found several fresh bear scats. A black bear, I fancied, was living in the area and feeding on the green spring vegetation.
And then, as I exited a small patch of devil’s club - a spiny plant covered in needles that can burrow into your skin - my foot caught on a meaty root and I went flat on my face.
Katya the dog looked at me pityingly.
I picked myself up. Even after 20 years in the wilderness such falls still happen with regularity and, providing you don’t spike yourself on something nasty, are pretty much without hazard.
One time I broke my watch, so now I tucked my new affair from Apple - I know, I know, hardly the stuff of Bear Grylls documentaries but it has so many useful functions - under the cuff of my hiking jacket.
And then five minutes later it happened again. And this time I fell harder. Again I picked myself up, wondering if I had spent too much time in the city on pavement and my feet had become lazy.
I glanced at the watch and it was in a proper fluster.
‘You’ve had a serious fall,’ it flashed, or words to that effect. ‘Preparing to send out an emergency alarm.’
It gave me three choices: contradict the device and tell it that it was wrong (tempting.)
Admit that I had had a fall but tell it that I was alright (the truth.)
Or sit back and wait for a helicopter to arrive. (And given that the gadget has an ability to talk to satellites I wouldn’t have been surprised if one eventually did.)
I reassured the watch that I was fine.
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