The Bear Necessities

Originally, we expected to camp in Glacier NP. At the east entrance, we saw that there were only a few places with sites open so we would take the Going to the Sun Road all the way through. Our intention was to find availability at one of the campgrounds, but after the two and a half hour drive through the park, all of the camp sites were full. Of course we didn’t find this out until we got to the campgrounds themselves, and by that time, it was getting late. Too late to drive out of the park and pay for some other campground. So we drove to the Ranger Station.

Actually, we THOUGHT it was the station, but it was really his residence. Talk about some prime real estate. At the end of this windy, gorgeous private drive there are cabins for the rangers right on Lake McDonald. Michael a friendly man of about fifty with salt and pepper hair was off-duty, sitting in his home office. As we walked up his sidewalk, he hollered to us through the window, “Alright ladies you get two questions. It’s my day off.”

We only had one. Where can we camp tonight? Michael got on the radio to the visitor center, and sure enough, every campground was full. Ok here is why Ranger Michael is the man. You can’t camp in National Parks, but you can camp anywhere in a National Forest. Turns out, Michael knew of an awesome spot to camp on the river that separates the park and the forest. The land may or may not technically be part of Glacier NP, but it backs up to a railroad and doesn’t get a lot of traffic or monitoring by any authorities. There is an awesome bridge that’s close now, but beyond that, there is a trail down to the water with a little beach. It’s a perfect place to camp. “I used to camp out there many years ago when I was your age…” Michael said, “you should be fine down there.”
Then, he gave us detailed directions to the spot. He even drew us an awesome map to get there. Just outside the park in West Glacier, behind a schoolyard, down a gravel road, past a now closed bridge, up a footpath and down a well-hidden trail, we found the beach.

It was gorgeous. Right on the river with bright teal water flowing through. The mountains in the background. A Sandy beach. A little privacy.

But wait…maybe a little too much privacy. What about bears? If we scream…who will hear? Our parents have been freaking out about all the bear attacks, and everywhere you go in the park there are warning signs with instructions on what to do if you encounter a bear.
Make noise while hiking. Bring pepper spray. Fight back if it’s a black bear. (They are much smaller. Apparently like “big, dumb dogs”. Not as aggressive either.) Play dead if it’s a grizzly. Don’t run. Ooh ooh, I love this one—talk to the bear and a calm, low voice. Haha. You got it! I’ll put on my best Barry White and ask the bear, “What’s shakin’ big momma?”
But Michael, one of the head rangers, didn’t mention anything about bears. It’s all just a lot of hype. He said we should “be fine down there.” We decided to trust ol’ Mike. We set the tent up and headed back up the bridge where our car was. We would cook and hang out there, change clothes, and only sleep in the tent.


The view was amazing. We walked around the bridge and took pictures of the river. I asked Amber to take a picture of me out on this rocky cliff over the water. I climbed down to the spot and Am took the photo.
Then, as I am climbing back up, Amber says in a low, calm but definitely serious voice, “Katy.” She paused, “There’s a bear.” She spotted the black bear, maybe 180-200 pounds, down river from us, maybe 50 yards away on the bank of the river. He was on the other side from our tent, sure. But can’t bears swim? Mostly excited, we jumped up to get a closer look. Amber got a shot from far away. The bear was just hanging out. Going about his own business, and then he walked away into the woods. Just like that.

We looked at each other, giggling, jaws dropped, and decided, okay. Let’s pull over here and think this thing through. It’s not like bears aren’t out there. They just very rarely attack usually only if they are feeling threatened. Most attacks happen when a bear is startled or protecting their young—like when hikers surprise the animal. We are already set up for the night. Once we are in the tent, it’s not like the bear would stalk us. (Insert mental image of Anthony Hopkins in the movie “The Edge”) We would only sleep there. There will be no scent to attract a bear to food. Everything would be in the car. Also, this was a black bear- typically harmless, not a grizzly. We were already set up here and it was almost dark. We didn’t have time to find another spot, and if so, where would we go? We asked some people we passed fishing. They had never had any problems here. THE RANGER sent us here. He said we’d be FINE.

We decided that the risk of a bear attack was no different now than it was before we spotted the thing- So we would stay. We cooked dinner on the bridge and relaxed a little. We decided that this spot was amazing and we should enjoy it. Before bed we changed clothes, packed the car, and walked down the trail to the tent.
We brought pepper spray and metal water bottles to make noise if need be, and a couple of knives. There is about a one percent chance we would need this stuff, but we felt better knowing we were prepared. (Funny thing is—I brought the pepper spray from home…one of those things you can put on a key chain. The next day, when we were waiting in line at a store, Amber pointed to a box, laughing. It was a can of bear spray…probably the size of a small fire extinguisher. What I brought---MIGHT make a bear sneeze.)

Once we were in the tent, we laid down and felt fine. We chatted a while and looked at the blog on my phone together. Then—we heard something. The sound of something brushing against the tent. We had camped many nights in the woods by now and were used to the sounds of wind, rain, and even other animals, but this was different. Something was out there. In the silence in the tent, we heard the noise again. “That sounded sketch for real huh?” I eloquently asked Amber. “Yep,” she responded. Listening hard, we became acutely aware of every little sound around us. Crickets chirping. The babbling of the water on the bank of the river just a few feet away. That was the worst. I was sure a bear was walking by our tent for a midnight snack of mountain trout in the river and we would startle him. Threaten him. Teeth chattering, hearts pounding and legs numb, we began to talk to each other in our best “low, calm voices”.

This would be our second time sleeping on the car. We gathered enough guts to head back to the Jetta. We clapped and sang Ray Charles together the whole way. (Why Ray? I have no idea) “Weeeeeell….I gotta woman…doo doo…way over town…doo doo…that’s good to me….OOOh Yeeeah!” The walk back seemed a lot longer in the dark. But we made it back to the car safely, and surprisingly enough, slept really well in the car.