A Revenant Memory

 

This story appears in the Spring, 2016 issue of Bright Side magazine

By Dennis Waller

Some memories surprise me. A dramatic one came back at the award-winning movie, "The Revenant." The crowd didn't stir for two and a half hours of action highlighted by a grizzly attacking Leonardo DiCaprio. Later, catching our breath during the credits, my wife whispered: "Bet you're the only person here who's been treed by grizzlies."

My April experience was decades ago and the grizzly didn't chomp or toss me like a rag doll like poor Leo. We were chased while hiking in Montana's Glacier Park on the popular Avalanche Creek trail - the only snow free option early in the year. Ignoring the "bear warning" sign at the trailhead, we chuckled at the Eddie Bauer types with noisy bear bells. We were experienced hikers sharing the trail with a few noisy greenhorns.

Drinking freely from our wine botas, we followed the well-trod trail alongside the gorgeous creek cascading down from the deep blue lake, fed by waterfalls off surrounding cliffs. As we climbed about the logjam where the lake emptied into the creek, I thought I was seeing things. Were those three brown bears loping up the stream, backlit by the afternoon sun? Or was it the wine?

"Bears! Run!" my brother yelled. He was with several others closer to the trail and they raced down the path, expecting us to follow. However, the sow and two large cubs were closing fast and the stranger nearby froze. I yelled to get up a tree, but she whimpered, "I've never climbed a tree." I helped her over the slippery logs to a large pine, where I grabbed her belt for a boost, yelling, "Climb, higher!"

I narrowly made it to my tree, the sow huffing at my back. Once settled some twenty feet high, the bears began feeding on insects and grubs under fallen trees. When I snapped a limb, the sow charged, reared up on the tree trunk and roared. My heart raced.

As we calmed down, I suggested the woman look at the amazing wildlife. She was a member of the San Francisco Symphony traveling with her boyfriend, who'd split with the others. Lightning was flashing in the darkness of overhead cliffs and it was sleeting when we heard them. Two rangers yelled before firing rifle shots, sending the bears into the bush. Unable to walk, I carried my symphony friend across the stream, where she was consoled in a blanket.

A ranger asked if I was scared. "Nah, once I was up the tree," I said proudly. "Cause grizzlies can't climb trees."

"Who the heck keeps telling you tourists that? If she wanted, she'd a yanked you down. Only bear can't climb is that obese Gentle Ben."

I still hike in bear country, but I've adapted. The wine's replaced by bear bells and bear spray.

The writer is a retired publisher and author of a childhood memoir, "Walkin' Joe and The Midnight Marauders," on Amazon.