Sometimes, Not So Lonely Trail

As we motored across beautiful Waterton Lake, the boat captain droned on about safety for our upcoming adventure. Suddenly, his droning voice caught my attention: “bears think food when they hear bells”. What? I had been very careful in my preparations for the Crypt Lake hike by purchasing bear bells. They were supposed to alert the bears to our presence not invite them to a feast!

Any adventure in the Waterton, Glacier Parks — near my wife’s home in Alberta — has always been worrisome because not only did Ursus americanus live there, but so did Ursus arctos horribilis. The common black bear, Americanus, sounds almost friendly compared to horriblis, the grizzly bear. Preparing for the Great Divide means preparing for potential encounters, as one pedals every watchfully and fearfully, through Alberta, British Columbia, Montana, and parts of Wyoming.

Now, it seems, everyone says carry a whistle and bear spray not bells on the GD. Maybe our boat captain’s word has gotten around. We bought the loudest whistles I could find. Then I saw an electronic version for a bike. With the push of a button, a loud whistle would terrify horriblis rather than end horribly. Plus, the electronic version would save all the air in our lungs for a Demare like Tour de France sprint.

Unfortunately, testing either of these devices would require a life threatening experience and the local zoo frowned upon our entering the bear cage. So we decided to test our e-whistle on the next best thing: people and animals along our local trail. Maybe a grizzly would’t respond exactly like a yappy little chihuahua, but any barking produces adrenaline in a bicyclist. (see next weeks post about testing bear spray).

Our local trail, just down our street, is an interesting urban experience. I know some of the homeless along it from work in the ER. Others we’ve come to know from riding it so frequently. Most of them don’t require an e-whistle as they are more commonly along the side or under the bridge. We’ve shared our energy bars and snacks as we’ve pedaled past them. We don’t usually need to e-whistle although finding one passed out isn’t uncommon and once 911 was in order.

The geese along the Arkansas are another matter. They are big and they hiss at us. This time of year they are nesting and protecting their young. I’ve not been bit, and while not quite at the level of a grizzly bear threat, it couldn’t be fun to have those bony beaks grab a chunk of calf muscle. Hopefully, their response is unlike the grizzly. Whistle or not, they just stare and strut across the trail even with bikes bearing down on them.

In many ways they are similar to the average trail walker in our city. They all act like there couldn’t possibly be anyone else on the trail: stare and strut. As they wander down the middle of the trail, we eventually “have to” e-whistle, and it is loud. Then they jump or suddenly swerve realizing the trail wasn’t built just for them. We ride by apologetically and then have a good laugh further down the trail.

I’m hopeful, likely naively, that we’ll have similar experiences in grizzly country. The grizzly will jump off the trail as we approach with our e-whistles blaring. We’ll then pass calmly by and have a good laugh further down the trail. Of course, assuming we live, rather than laughing we may be changing our pants. Any grizzly is horriblis, even if the e-whistle does work to remove the danger.