It’s not uncommon to see bears around Squamish; this year, there appears to be a lot more bear activity as they prepare to hibernate. A couple of days ago, I walked past a field and saw some people gathered. There was a lot of rustling in the trees, but hard to see anything. Eventually we spotted Mama sitting high in the tree enjoying a foliage buffet. There was a cub trying to get up to mom, but kept falling out of the tree. Eventually the cub settled into a lower branch to eat. Watching bears like this is just pure magic. Here’s a picture taken a few days earlier of another bear family.

Someone came along from the other direction and said there was a another bear on the tracks. He or she was huge with a brown nose, and just casually walked towards us. Usually the bears will turn into the bushes when they see people on the path, but not this one. We all backed away to give it loads of room, and from a distance saw it heading off on another path. After a few minutes, I resumed my walk, heading in the opposite direction of the bear.

Close to home at the end of my walk, I cross a little bridge that leads to the last little stretch of trail, running on a little raised path before it rejoins the pavement. It’s a narrow path: swampy on one side, and on the other side there are houses, separated by a mostly bushy ditch. There’s a rough path that someone has cut, but it’s steep and slippery, especially after a few days of rain.

Coming up from the road, I see the little cub and Mama bear who, it appears, have eaten their fill. I stopped and ask them, very nicely, in a loud voice to please go the other way because the path is narrow and there’s nowhere for me to go. Usually this would deter them, especially since there’s an easy route for them to get into the bushes in another direction. The curious cub starts to approach. I can’t back up to the bridge. It’s too far and they’d reach me before I reach the bridge. I yelled louder. Baby paused for a second, but mom was just ambling along so baby thought it was ok to continue. They were no more than 75 paces away and coming towards me.

I started to back up and saw that the steep, sketchy slope was my only option to get out of their way. The bear cub continued to approach so I slid towards a tree trunk thinking at least it will stop me. I slid past the tree but managed to hang on to it. I’m now almost in the ditch but the other side is too steep for me to get out. Still hanging on to the tree I look up and the cub sprints by me. Mama comes loping along and I see drops of water on her course fur as she passes with only a quick look and a low growl in my direction. There’s no more than 3 feet between us.

I listened to make sure they’ve moved along and then scrambled cautiously out of the ditch. They’d paused at the bridge to watch my next move. I yelled again and this time they did take off across the bridge. Walking in the opposite direction towards the road I looked back a couple of times to make sure they hadn’t come back.

The entire encounter lasted maybe 90 seconds. Only then did I recognise the taste of fear in my mouth and the pounding of my heart reaching my head. My muddy hands were shaking as someone pulled out of their driveway. Watching them drive away, I felt the grip of fear release in the relative safety of the neighbourhood. I breathed deeply to calm myself and wrap my head around what had just happened. I walked the rest of the way home, grateful to have escaped a potentially dangerous encounter unscathed.

It was beary beary scary.