Last fall, my father and I went camping in the magnificent Gallatin National Forest of Montana. When we arrived at our campsite, we were greeted with these troubling signs:
I’d never seen two “watch out for bear” signs before. So what did we do? Well, after taking in the scenery and the absolute silence, we set up our tents.
Campers camp. Writers write. And bears scare campers, no matter if the bears are more afraid of you than you are of them. This is how it has always been.
I spent five days in the Crazy Mountains back in 2006, camping and hiking by myself. The “Crazies”(as they are known to locals) rise 7,000 feet above the Yellowstone River and the tiny town of Big Timber, Montana. The Crazies are an island range, running 32 miles north to south, and 15 miles west to east. They are a dry range, receiving less moisture than the massive Absaroka-Beartooth Range just to the south across Interstate 90.
There’s something about an island range that appeals to me, and I admit The Crazies continue to inspire my fiction. While not an official wilderness, they are still part of the incredible Gallatin National Forest. Unlike the Gallatin National Forest south of I-90, the Crazies do not have grizzly bears. This makes for better sleeping if one happens to be tenting. The Crazies do, however, contain wolverines, which are just as wild as grizzly bears. A hiker might encounter mountains goats, too, or the rare goshawk, which require old growth forests. A careful observer may also glimpse cougar, black bear, and lynx.
This was taken on the eastern side of the park, near East Glacier Lodge (which is one of the coolest buildings I’ve seen). There’s a trail that leads right from the tiny train station to those mountains, one of the many reasons why Glacier is known as the ultimate hiker’s park.
If I remember correctly, the image consists of five to six separate frames, which were then blended using Photoshop. Feel free to download the image for personal use (screensaver, etc). Just click the image to download the full size.
I hope to return to this magnificent park this fall. We’ll see.
Every fall I embark on a road trip. This is not a comfort thing. I sleep in a tent, with a “self-inflating” (haha) mattress. I wake up at 2 a.m. to the sound of bears sniffing my tent. I wake up to moose farting after they decide to bed down next to my tent. A moose’s digestive system it not a pleasant think to wake to from three feet away. It sounds like muffled screaming.
Sometimes I go to California. Or the Northwoods. But most often, my target is Montana and the northwest corner of Wyoming. Places like Yellowstone National Park, Grand Teton National Park, and the Gallatin National Forest. I am drawn to this area because it is not strip malls. The ecosystem also supports grizzly bears, which no other place in the lower 48 really does. They are cantankerous beasts, disliking roads and development. In that way, we are the same.
I do not seek daily showers or pampering. I seek solitude amongst the wild beasts. When I’m in town, I’ll sample the nightlife, maybe stay with friends. But these are usually quick excursions, and it’s back to the national forest.
So why do it? The wild spaces are my church, my religion…things I can touch and see and feel. In my wake I leave unchecked strip malls and a sickly brown haze in the sky. It has to be this way.
Who knows where I’ll end up on this one. Maybe a simple national forest like the Chippewa in Minnesota. Or maybe Olympic National Park in Washington. All that matters is that it’s wild and clean. Because these last places are the actual rare jewels in 2013.
A dryer.
You’ve all seen the heartbreaking photos.
A majestic polar bear, while desperately searching for seals on the Arctic island of Svalbard, collapsed to the tundra and called it a day. At that point, the polar bear looked like a rug.
I have no doubt that this story will be largely ignored. Many people will go about their day as if nothing happened. And why not? We live in a strip mall construct. Our thoughts focus on point a to point b to point c in this concrete vortex. What’s the big deal about a starving polar bear way in the middle of nowhere, with the hard Arctic wind at its back, and a few sea birds screeching about? What does this have to do with how much it costs me to fill up my car, buy groceries, or pick up my kids at soccer practice?
That’s why I’m proposing that a mock-up be made of this special polar bear. Actually, thousands of mock ups. It should be funded by the pentagon because it is a national security issue. Every day for the next year, one of these starved, mock-up polar bears should be placed in someone’s freaking driveway, so they are are forced to look at it, forced to have the emaciated bear occupy their thoughts as they figure out how to move the damn thing or get around it (at last Johnny has a use for his 4WD).
We tend not to pay attention until it hits us in the wallet or shows up in our yards. We go and buy that 10 MPG SUV when the 30 MPG sedan will do.
Today, a hungry bear died, far, far in the north.
There was nothing insignificant about it. Especially when your great grand kids ask where the glaciers went. Or where the polar bears went, or where the wolves went, or the wolverine, or the bees (and thus our crops) or who knows how many species. And at some point, somewhere down the line, a desperate, hungry generation will trudge upon this Earth much in the same way that polar bear trudged upon Svalbard Island. And they too, will collapse to their mother, evermore.
