The Night We Awakened A Grizzly Bear

It was fall of 2019. It had been six years since we had last visited Glacier National Park, and we were thrilled to have a handful of days to explore its beauty. However, by the time we arrived on a warm August afternoon, all the park's campgrounds were full or off limits to tent campers due to grizzly bear activity. Not to be dissuaded by this turn of events, we ventured beyond the park's eastern borders past St. Mary, turned south on Hwy 89, and discovered an area of national forest where dispersed camping was allowed.

A few miles down a dusty, gravel road, we found a serene little spot on the far side of a shallow creek on which to pitch our tents. While the kids tumbled out of the vehicle and bounded about in joyful liberation from the confines of their seatbelts, we unloaded our gear from our truck's camper shell and began to set up camp.

Local ranchers ranged beef cattle in this region, and every so often we would hear them lowing to each other across the gentle hills surrounding our campsite. After a while, a few cows came into view. To our alarm, one of them sported huge claw marks across its haunches. The gashes had closed up and seemed to be in the process of healing, but there was no doubt in our minds that this cow had suffered an unfortunate encounter with a grizzly bear. Eyeing the perimeter of our camp with slightly elevated levels of concern, we pitched our tents and started a campfire. The cow served as a grave reminder that we were in bear country.

As we settled into our sleeping bags that evening and listened to the gentle flow of the creek beyond the grassy space where our tents were pitched, we did our best to not think too much about the attacked cow. Bear attacks on humans are rare, and we had observed all the recommended guidelines of keeping food locked up and away from our sleeping area.

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast of potatoes, eggs, sausage, and strawberries, we were all ready for some adventure. However, when your kids are seven, six, four, and two years old, delays occur and you don’t always end up getting on the trail as soon as you had hoped. Some friends had told us about a trail in our vicinity that led to Medicine Grizzly Lake. The hike was 6.5 miles one way and was rated as moderately challenging. We had never attempted that long of a trek with all four kids before, so we knew it would stretch them (and us) to attempt it.

Exquisite views on the trail to Medicine Grizzly Lake.

The trailhead was located just past Cut Bank Campground, only a few miles from where we had camped the night before. As we all piled out of the truck, Samuel and I gathered snacks, water, and supplies to stow in our daypack for the hike ahead. Whenever we went hiking, we made it a habit to always bring a first aid kit, fire starting supplies, and a couple headlamps in addition to food and water. Unfortunately, before the day was over, we would realize we had made a significant oversight in our preparations.

Atlantic Falls

With our gear loaded up and the kids excitedly chattering about every shiny rock, skittering bug, and curious squirrel they spotted, we started out for Medicine Grizzly Lake. The trail was relatively easy with less than 1,000 feet of elevation gain over the 6.5 miles. It follows the North Fork of Cutbank Creek for much of the time. The views of Bad Marriage Mountain and Mad Wolf Mountain (both more than 8,000’ in elevation) were fantastic. Along the way, we took the small spur to see Atlantic Falls, a beautiful cascade along several rock ledges on the Pitasmakan Pass Trail. We found broad grizzly tracks on a muddy section of the trail, every claw mark distinct. The kids were delighted to spot a cow moose grazing quietly alongside the path about a mile before we reached our destination. She gave us a brief, disinterested glance before getting back to her lunch.

Wonder

The kids were overjoyed to finally arrive at the lake, which was picturesque with its backdrop of looming Triple Divide Peak. They lost no time pulling off their shoes and socks and wading into the cold waters on a small rocky beach we had all to ourselves. The simplest rewards are often the best ones. We were proud of them for their good attitudes and perseverance to have come so far. Our family enjoyed a simple lunch and sipped on a couple Body Armor drinks, soaking in the beauty all around us. Since Samuel had thought to bring the fishing pole and tackle along, we tried casting a few lines and were rewarded with a couple small trout. 

It was easy to get lost in the peaceful landscape and enjoy the cold lake water. But then we looked at each other and realized the afternoon was fading, and soon the sun would begin its slow descent toward the horizon. With 6.5 miles left to get back to the truck, we knew we needed to pull our things together and start the trek back. It took some time to get all our little people’s shoes and socks back on, and to pack all the scattered supplies back into the daypack. We had barely left the lake behind when we sighted a huge bull moose in the willows a stone’s throw off the trail. Not more than five minutes later, we spotted a second, and then a third! These massive animals are beautiful to watch from a distance, but we now felt the pressure of all the miles ahead of us. Snapping a few quick photos, we trudged on.

Soaking up the beauty at Medicine Grizzly.

Looking back now, we realize we made a poor judgment on the time we allowed ourselves to return to the trailhead. We should have calculated the distance and the remaining daylight hours earlier in the day. However, hindsight is 20/20, and sometimes you have to make mistakes to learn from them. Unless you learn from other people’s mistakes, so hopefully this story is helpful to that end. 🙂

A few miles further down the path, we both assessed the setting sun and agreed we would not be making it back before dark. The kids were getting tired, and Samuel and I were spending more and more time carrying the four-year-old and six-year-old (I was already carrying our two-year-old in an Ergo on my back, and Samuel was shouldering the daypack). We stopped for a water break and agreed to pull out the headlamps, so they would be ready when it got fully dark. Samuel dug into the smallest section of the daypack, but the headlamps weren’t there. We searched again, this time checking every pocket and pouch. They were gone.

Our seven-year-old chose that ripe moment to inform us that he was pretty sure he had accidentally taken the headlamps out and set them on the backseat of the truck right before we left the trailhead, when he was looking for the lip balm. Great. Resignedly, we repacked the backpack and pressed forward without the lights. We both had cell phones with flashlights, but the charge was low on both our phones, so we chose to walk in the fading light without them, saving the battery life for when we could no longer safely navigate the trail. 

Twenty minutes later, we estimated we still had over a mile to get back to the trailhead. The kids were tired. Samuel and I were tired. Everyone was ready to be done. And that’s when we heard the noise. 

A snuffling, snorting sound, combined with the heavy cracking of branches, just ahead of us, down a small, brushy slope on the right side of the trail. We all stopped, listening. Something large was in the trees, but in the gathering shadows we couldn’t make out what it was. 

After another few moments of tense listening, Samuel said quietly, “I think it’s a moose.”

At that moment, the dark shape decided to climb up the slope onto the trail, huffing and breathing heavily like it had just awakened from a nap. Even in the dim light, I could make out its enormous silhouette. My heart jumped a bit. “I don’t think that’s a moose,” I whispered. “That’s a bear.”

And what a bear it was. 

This animal was almost the size of a smart car. He stood there on all fours in the center of the trail, just looking at us. You could hear his enormous mass in his breathing and his movements. We gathered the kids behind us and encouraged them to be still and quiet. The next few moments were tense. Here we were, still over a mile from our vehicle, with four kids under the age of eight, in the dark with no headlamps, and a massive grizzly bear blocking our only path. 

The seconds ticked by in silence, and then, finally, the bear made a move. Thankfully not toward us. He started up the hill above the trail. He lumbered slowly into the trees, still snuffling, and then stopped again, staring at us. We decided to take advantage of the clear path before us. Samuel whispered for everyone to stay close. Then we moved forward on the trail, quietly and cautiously inching our way past the terribly large creature who watched us from the slope just above us. 

We all breathed a sigh of relief fifty yards down the trail. The kids shakily whispered in high pitches, “Daddy, did you see how big he was??” 

“I’m so glad he didn’t eat us!” 

“My heart was beating so fast!”

Thoroughly shaken by such a close encounter in the dark, we fast-hiked the remaining mile back to the trailhead. I am fairly sure we have never collectively been so happy to see the truck as we were that night. With grateful hearts, we piled into the vehicle, finding the missing headlamps just where our son had placed them. Traveling back down the dirt road, our camping spot was a welcome sight after our tiring adventure. We ended the night on a high note with delicious sausages and s’mores around a cozy campfire. 

Grizzly track

Six years later, we now remember our hike to Medicine Grizzly Lake with fondness, and it’s a fun story to share with friends. Our mistakes have helped us become wiser, more prepared hikers. As a general rule, we wouldn’t recommend a 13-mile hike to parents with small children unless you’ve already been doing it a while (and we had). It was a long day, and it pushed our kids to their limits, which is not a bad thing if it’s done sparingly. When we are stretched to endure discomfort and prolonged effort to achieve a goal, we learn what we’re capable of, and it prepares us for bigger adventures down the road. 

Our oldest son, who was seven at the time, hiked the whole thirteen miles on his own legs. This feat of endurance was one of many that tested his mettle and developed his character. The trip to Medicine Grizzly Lake was a building block that prepared him for future adventures, so that, three years later, when he had the opportunity to jump off an iceberg into frigid waters just for the experience, he took the plunge. 

But that is a tale for another time.