If You Run into a Bear

In the evening, feeling tired and mellow, the talk around the fireplace turns to bears.   There are many black bears in the area, and we have been very careful not to leave anything that would attract them, or their preferred prey, like ground squirrels.

One guide compares black bears to puppies.  Bears are like puppies?  Another points out that black bears can recognize the faces of people they’ve seen before.  Black bears know how to open car trunks (do they use a key, I wonder or....)  Black bears have been known to stalk humans.  I think they’re kidding.  I hope they’re kidding.

At some point in the summer, bears get an internal signal that tells them “Eat more fat; prepare for hibernation.”  Ground squirrels are a good source of fat, and bears dig wildly to get at them.  Dirt and boulders pose no impediment to a fat-frenzied bear.

You can see the rocky edge to this hole dug by a bear who sensed a ground squirrel lurking below... I'm guessing the bear got his prey.

Humans are also a good fat source, although everyone insists there is really no danger.

“So, um, just in case, what should I do if I run into a bear?” I ask.

If I see a bear, I should pull myself up to my full height, raise my arms over my head, and lower my eyes.  “Never make eye contact with a bear because it will see that as threatening and get ticked off,” says a guide. “

This is funny to me, since my “full height” is barely five feet (if I’m on tiptoe). 

“But really,” he continues,   bears are not a threat to humans.” 

I wonder about that.  They’re not a threat? Yet we humans just freeze in a surrender pose with eyes cast downward so we can’t see what the bear is about to do.

I allow my attention to be drawn away from bears to a description of tomorrow’s hike.  We’ll start the day with a hike on Canoe Glacier, and after a BBQ, we’ll head to Moose Meadow.  

View of Canoe Glacier from Lodge

Canoe Glacier is that white area you see up there in the mountains.  Canoe Glacier is, like all glaciers, a river of ice at least a hundred feet thick (possibly much more)  moving its way down the mountain, grinding the earth beneath it.

I’m going to hike on that.  Yup, me.  Up There.  On the glacier.  

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Hike? Me? I'll Just Wait Here...or not

As we make our way into the lodge, I note the steep mountains surrounding us.  This is truly beautiful.  The lodge is deluxe, and around us --rocks, trees, glaciers in the distance.  I know I've said this before, but the feeling never goes away: when I leave 'civilization' behind and see natural formations millions---billions--of years old, I am in awe.  The natural beauty, the immensity of it, puts my tiny place in the vast scheme of things into perspective.

After settling in, we’re head out for our first hike.  We will go by helicopter in groups we choose based on our estimates of ability.  I humbly flash back to my preparation:  

 I could walk for miles.  Flat, sea-level miles.  Occasionally I shook things up by walking hills.  There’s a park nearby with a gorgeous view of the Boston Skyline.  It’s about 370 feet above sea level.  I walked that (she said proudly).

I look at peaks surrounding the lodge and wisely choose a beginner-level group.  We go out to the helicopter.   We form a circle, throw valuables in the circle to protect them from the rotor wind, and huddle....

helihuddle 1

As we’re helicoptering to the first trailhead, I flash back to the catalogue showing a photo of a helihiking trip:  

...a group of smiling people in a meadow of wildflowers,  mountains in the distance, gently rolling hills in the forefront.  Yeah, I can do this.

The helicopter descends to a craggy area that looks sorta like this:

me?  hike here?

um...  This is not what I was expecting.  This does not look like the gently rolling meadows I saw on-line.  The terrain looks forbidding and frightening and steep.  I will tell Ernst, our guide.  “Ernst,” I say,  “This is not what I was expecting,” I say.  “I pictured meadows.  Gently rolling meadows.  I think I’ll just wait here for the helicopter.”

Ernst absorbs my comment, and replies,  ‘You can vait here, but de helicopter doss not come here.”

Plan B.  I hike. And I will stay very close to Ernst. I try to hide my anxiety.

Great news!

Ernst had eyeballed the ominous-looking skies (that photo above has some serious looking clouds)  and thinks a thunderstorm is coming.  Bad idea to be out on the mountains during a thunderstorm.  Ernst uses his walkie-talkie to radio the pilot that he must pick us up to return to the lodge.  I try to hide my relief.  I know it's only temporary, but I will have a chance to summon up my courage. We return to the lodge and await the passing of the storm.  I think positive happy thoughts and prepare to give it another go.

I’m still nervous in the helicopter, but not as nervous as I was.  We take off, we fly about 7 minutes, we land, we exit,  helicopter-huddle, wait for the the pilot's departure. Then we’re off.  

Our first hike is across Encore Ridge, parallel to the Canoe River that flows from Canoe Glacier. In the distance, Mount Robson.

Encore Ridge: parallel to the Canoe River that flows from Canoe Glacier. In the distance, Mount Robson.

As my group starts across the ridge,  I stand back to photograph.    The ridge looks narrow.  The drop looks seriously steep.  But then I look out at summer’s snow-capped peaks in the distance, at the craggy domain stretching out before me.  This sweeping expanse of mountain-tops is breathtaking.  I am in a place where the only humans I see are those traveling with me.  I have never  been anywhere like this, and I have never felt this exhilarated. 

Yes, I can do this.  

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My heli-hiking experience was with Canadian Mountain Holidays, who continue to offer heli-hiking and hell-skiing adventures.  Visit http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com for more information.

Flying in a giant mosquito

If you know the 2016 me, you know I don't hike anymore.  I'm not happy about it, but life gives you lemons,  you make lemonade.

And if you followed the posts about my trip to New Zealand, you know I've been in a helicopter (ro see Mt. Anorak). 

Well, when I took my first heli-hiking trip, I was not hiking anywhere either.  I was walking.  I could walk for miles.  Flat, sea-level miles. 

Occasionally I shook things up by walking hills.  There’s a park nearby --Robbins Farm-- with a gorgeous view of the Boston skyline.  It’s about 370 feet above sea level.  I walked that (she said proudly). 

“Hiking” said the wanna-be adventurer, “is just walking on a steeper hill with no pavement.  I can do this.”  

The heli-hiking part of the tour begins with a helicopter meeting our tour bus in the blissfully scenic village of Valmont, surrounded by soaring mountains.  We drive up to the helicopter staging area and await lift off to a location somewhere at the top of the world--the Canadian Mountain Holiday (Canadian Mountain Holidays)  Cariboo Lodge in the Cariboo mountains.

At this point in my life, I’ve never been in a helicopter before.  It looks like a giant mechanical mosquito on steroids.  Before we board, we receive safety instructions:  when the rotor is spinning, you keep your head down, move away from the helicopter, and lean over anything that might be blown away.  When several people do this, they form a helicopter huddle.

The first group of us obediently form a helicopter huddle,  board, and we're off.  Those awaiting the next airlift  look a little surprised as they’re reminded to huddle.  

We lift off.  I am looking at the mountain directly in front of us and wondering how we are going to get over or around it in our big mosquito-mobile.  I can feel my eyes popping out of my head as the rock face looms large before me.  

I lift my hands in an upward gesture, the way you might do to a child who’s taken a fall.  “Come on,  up, up, up, you can do it.”  This works great with the child.  
Accomplishes nothing with the helicopter.

And then we're up, flying across the mountain sky, leaving a luxury coach, a guide, and all of civilization behind.  I ... um... I can... I can do this?

We land high up in the Cariboos at the luxury lodge where we’re welcomed by warm hosts with hot cider.  The lodge is beautiful.  I note a whirlpool; I hear there's a massage therapist. Yup, I can do this.  

CMH Cariboo Lodge

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