Meeting Bears in the Boundary Waters

Facing fear to overcome it

It was a great send-off, friends from various parts of my life wishing me well as I struck out across the country. The drinks were flowing as were the words. It helped me avoid the fear that sat on my chest.

I cornered Michelle, my co-worker at a local organic farm. “Have you ever been to the Boundary Waters of Canada? I hear it’s gorgeous.”

I had not slept in a tent but once in my 50 years of existence, but Michelle has been all over the country raising Boy Scouts and camping with OPK (other people’s kids).

I figured she would know.

And if I was heading into the Great Unknown, I needed to find the silver lining. Too many people had groaned while mentioning Minnesota winters. I had heard the Boundary Waters of Canada was a hidden gem.

I live to be outdoors, but was exiting a marriage and exchanging a life of luxury for one of adventure.

Why wait?

Michelle had always wanted to camp in the Boundary Waters. The hostess, Adrienne overheard our conversation.

“I have a friend who is a guide. She has all the gear and she has been bugging me for years! We should do it,” she offered.

Maybe, I wouldn’t be falling off the face of the earth in a bad way? I got in my car the next morning and headed west. I was dreading the drive; I had never gone so far by myself, let alone faced so much unknown. The bear of fear still sat on me.

I had a little too much to drink, Adrienne confessed

I was driving somewhere in Pennsylvania when she called to say, maybe her friend wasn’t doing that anymore. She wasn’t sure. Also, would she be available? She hedged. She may have spoken too soon.

No biggie.

I was coming off the Biggest Disappointment — my 30 year marriage, followed by selling everything I owned and moving 1,000 miles west. If the BWOC trip fell through, it was nothing in comparison.

If it happened, great. If not, I would never know what I missed. It was May and I had my first semester of tech school in front of me.

By August, our trip started to come together

Michelle and Adrienne would fly out to the Twin Cities and we would drive up to Grand Marais to meet Flannery and Diane. Two of Adrienne’s friends would combine with two of her CT buddies. Adrienne called this grafting, just like people do with trees, she was inserting me into her friendships.

To drive north from Minneapolis is to drive by Lake Superior. It could have been an ocean. Magnificent, huge and no sign of the opposite shore makes it an impressive body of water even by Minnesota standards.

As we drove north on the Gunflint Trail, I could feel my self slipping away with civilization. All those cares — about school, my finances, my divorce- I dropped in Grand Marais and simply breathed in the woods.

We arrived at Flannery’s cabin to be greeted by a virtual nest. Tiny, wooden, cozy, I felt an immediate comfort. It was so easy to get to know one another. If any of us suffered with pretensions, they too had been discarded with civilization.

The driveway into the cabin sported a moose and her baby grazing beside the road.

We were in Grand Marais and it felt Other-Worldly

Once Nature outnumbers humans, it is so easy for me to find my place. I was never significant, but I am present. As things fall away, a greater world opens up. There I am, but a puny dot in it.

We went through gear and Flannery explained much of what we needed and showed us how to pack.

We loaded up and dropped off our canoes — two and packs.

I had watched videos of portaging as Flannery had recommended, but I had never done it. Diane, who was in her mid-60’s at the time, was amazing, throwing that boat over her head and hoofing through the woods.

This was once a way of life

The packs for a 5-day trip were not light either. I was a bit shell-shocked and I admit, quite grateful that my friends knew what to pack, how much we would need and what exactly to take.

I was in a challenging place. All of the transition I had experienced was still sinking in. Everything was new and different, and the ground was still shaking under my feet.

We had permits and before entering the Boundary Waters of Canada we needed to watch a film entitled, “Leave No Trace,” which basically admonishes to keep any sign of humans at home, or carry it out with you.

Leave No Trace

Became Michelle’s nickname as she followed us around the camp. When I was brushing my teeth, she would appear over my shoulder and ask, “Where are you going to spit that?”

I shrugged. I don’t know.

“You aren’t. You are going to swallow.” Seriously?

Gulp. Ok.

After dinner, we rinsed our bowls with water, swished it around and yes, drank it.

All in an effort to repel bears.

We also had a bear-proof barrel which looked like a plastic 55-gallon drum with a sealing lock lid. All of the food was stored in the barrel.

I pulled my Burt’s Bees lip balm out of my pocket.

“What were you thinking? Bears love honey! That’s made with honey!” Michelle was not pleased.I was a bit uncertain what to do about it at that point. I put it back in my pocket.

It was a taste of heaven

We canoed in lake after lake, spotting otters playing and beavers that smacked their tails when we appeared.

Loons swam next to us and called their mournful laugh.

The days flew by. I was content to be told what to do. Can you shell the edamame? Stir the rice? Go in the same canoe with Michelle. I followed orders and we seemed to function as a perfect body. It was a pleasure to depend on women who were wise in the ways of the woods.

We swam in the beautiful water. Never once did we wear the mosquito netting on our hats; insects were barely existent.

The days flew by.

The initial fear of my future was lifting as I lived moment by moment. Paddling, cooking, swimming. These existed as complete and whole moments strung together with no thoughts or worries of the future.

Our last night we broke out the wine and chocolate

It was heavy but worth it. We were excited to celebrate but sad to end what was for me a perfect adventure. By the third day, I had spilled my guts and no one treated me any less for it. If anything, they drew nearer. I could trust these women fully. I did not realize what a gift it was to realize this dream with perfect companions.

How did it fall into my lap? I still wonder.

I was coming up from the bank where we kept the canoes, when I heard, “BEAR! GET TOGETHER!”

We huddled in a clump as instructed, waving our arms to appear larger. Someone banged a pot. A few of us were shouting.

The bear lumbered up on all fours, definitely bigger than a dog and with fur that swayed as she walked.

I was surprised. Initially, I didn’t feel fear, more fascination. She was substantial, lumbering and had me wondering, what would she do?

As if on cue, she grabbed only Michelle’s back pack, to which we howled. If there was one camper who had done everything to avoid attracting bears, this bear knew it.

Strategy developed

I think it was Flannery who said, “Let’s move en-mass between the tents and get out what we need, then head to the canoes.”

We moved as a group stopping first at Flannery and Diane’s tent, then blobbing over to the one shared by Adrienne, Michelle and I.

Before we finished grabbing gear, the cub appeared.

“OH SH!T. Never get between a bear and it’s cub,” I heard someone say, igniting a new fire under us.

It felt like 30 minutes but I think we were in the canoes in less than 10 minutes, pulling on life vests, grabbing paddles.

By this time, it was growing dark. “Wait! I can’t see the other shore, let alone see where we will pull up. How will we know where to beach the canoes?” I was worried.

“I got this. I know where,” Flannery replied, cooly.

I jumped in. We pushed off.

Finally, the adrenaline rush ended somewhere in the middle of the lake.

“LOOK AT THAT!” I heard someone exclaim. There seemed to be a shooting star every other second in the sky.

We placed the paddles on our laps and leaned back.

The stars showered above and we basked below.

If the Boundary Waters is a taste of heaven, this was the skies opening up to affirm it.

I happened to glance back, and spotted the Northern Lights, a pale green veil draped across the horizon.

I called out and we all turned to take it in.

We floated silently in the darkness, a tiny group of women finding our place in the universe, a beautiful place no less or more because of us.

I knew then, that I could never fall off the face of the Earth. I could travel and explore but never really be lost again. It was all right here and always.

We pulled up on shore and ran into the woods. Our bladders had been clenched for too long and as we crouched, spread out and giggling, I had to wonder, are there any bears on this side of the lake?

We portaged further and pressed on, returning late to Flannery’s cabin. We were exhausted but giddy.

What an adventure!

The next day we alerted the authorities and returned to the campsite to clean up the inevitable mess.

She got into every scrap of food in that barrel, leaving a trail of paper and mutilated containers.

Michelle was thrilled to carry out her bear-marked water bottle and we were all grateful the encounter ended safely.

I could not have had a better trip. All those fears were realized. I lost everything. I met the bear.

And it was no big deal.

Cat’s adventures in nature continue on her blog catstrav.com. She has handled reindeer for Santa and sailed across the Gulf Stream on a 36-foot sailboat. A poet and yogi, she lives for time outdoors.