Rockies: The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music

It's important to have a respect and caution when hiking through bear country. The Rockies are such a place.

We had a husband and wife, Ed and Marlene, who joined our group because Marlene had an extreme fear of bears. Her husband had convinced her that she would be safe traveling with a group, and professional guides. She wasn't entirely convinced, but was not going to disappoint her husband, nor allow a fear to keep her from doing something she had dreamed of for many years.

We met with our group the night before our trip to discuss the hike ahead. Throughout our orientation session it was obvious that Marlene was uncomfortable. As the topic turned to safety in bear country, she had numerous questions that pointed to an anxiety that needed attention and calming. Her husband mentioned that some well-meaning friends had given her a book entitled, "Worst Grizzly Bear Attacks". She managed to read a few of the short stories before Ed took the book from her to avoid any further damage.

We assured Marlene that we followed a safe protocol in bear territory and never had any serious encounters. Besides, there had never been a recorded bear attack against a group. She offered that she heard that singing was a good way to announce one's presence while hiking. If this would comfort her, then we would do that for her. She said yes. My assisting guides were tasked with fulfilling my promise.

Over six days of hiking through some spectacular mountain scenery, we sang constantly. Someone in the group suggested that we rename the company, Van Trapp Expeditions. Aside of keeping the hills alive with the sound of music, we placed her in the middle of the group while hiking (bears would have to eat through 4 hikers, back and front before reaching her), made sure to locate her tent in the middle of all the others at night (the idea came from old westerns where wagon trains were circled at night), and gave her some bear spray to cuddle up with. I don't think Ed welcomed his demotion.

A successful battle plan had worked its magic. Our last night was a campsite adjacent to Mount Assiniboine. We celebrated our hike, talked about producing an album of our mountain songs, and rejoiced in the fact that we had seen no bears. A full moon, cloudless skies, and a ceiling of celestial points of light supplied an ambiance for a perfect end to a perfect week of hiking. Tomorrow we would break camp early, hike to the trailhead, and return to our separate lives.

I felt good about this hike as I lay my head down in the tent. Sometime, as I reviewed the week in my mind's eye, I fell off into a deep sleep.

What? What's the commotion? Shouts? I rose to my elbows, trying to shake the drowsiness from my head. Something was in camp and causing everyone to stir. We called to each other from within our tents. I instructed all to stay in the tents while the guides exited cautiously to see what our visitor was up to. We hoped that the kaffufle would frighten off the intruder. As we eyeballed the camp area, we became aware of an argument that was being played out in the middle tent. Apparently Marlene was insisting that Ed turn over the bear spray to her. He was afraid that she would, in a panic, fire off the spray indiscriminately, and he would be the victim. She, on the other hand, told her husband that she only wanted to read the instructions, to be prepared.

Nothing about! We told the hikers that everything was fine. Some called out wanting to know what came into camp. My junior guide blurted out that it was only a porcupine. Calmness returned. We went to each tent and made sure that people were once again comfortable. Two ladies, who were seasoned hikers, called us over to their tent. "That creature was outside our tent and it wasn't any @#!!&%$ porcupine!" We just looked at each other.