Kayaking & Grizzly Bears

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7150834.post-1129327707250911672005-10-14T14:51:00.000-07:002005-11-15T18:43:23.220-08:00Kayaking & Grizzly BearsIt’s mid October and the clouds have finally rolled in, bringing much needed rain to the coast. For British Columbia’s salmon, the rain signals time to return to their rivers of birth to migrate upstream, spawn, and die. The grizzlies have been waiting, too. For their survival, Orford River grizzlies depend on returning salmon, which were late this year because of September’s sunny skies. When the grizzlies arrived in mid August there were no fish and the bears were edgy and short tempered. One day a 900-pound male bluff-charged a Xwemalhkwu guide -- stopping just 5 meters away before ambling off. Stewert Barnes kept his cool and his ground: “You don’t have much choice,” he said. “If you turn and run, you’ll die. I could only walk towards the bear and tell him to leave -- I’m sure glad he did!” The Xwemalhkwu (Hom-al-ku) people have lived in the Orford and fished next to the bears for millennia. There is a history of mutual respect, and their relationship with the grizzlies is mythical. In cooperation with the Xwemalhkwu First Nation, Coast Mountain Expeditions this year organised two kayak expeditions to watch the Orford River grizzlies. In early September the trips set out from Discovery Islands Lodge on Quadra Island, British Columbia. Three lengthy kayaking days got us to the Orford Estuary, 40 km up Bute Inlet, a waterway famous for its mountains and grizzlies, and infamous for its wind. We encountered weather that was flawlessly sunny, warm, and calm – not unusual, but welcome. The scenery was breathtaking. Sea kayaking British Columbia’s mainland inlets requires humility, experience, and caution. Being glacier fed the inlet waters are always very cold, but of more concern are the intense winds that can create wickedly dangerous conditions in almost no time. BC’s coastal inlets act as wind tunnels to and from British Columbia’s highest mountains, producing anabatic (inflow) winds during warm weather, and catabatic (outflow) winds which occur most often in the winter. Summer’s inflow winds occur when the sun heats up BC’s interior land mass. Rising warm air creates low pressure in the interior, pulling cool marine air up though the inlets and river valleys. It usually takes a few hours of heating for the anabatic effect to begin, so the cool of early mornings usually offers a period of grace. We were lucky to escape any significant wind while paddling in Bute Inlet, but during our time at Orford Camp, one day the wind built from zero to sixty knots in less than an hour. Awed again by its sudden intensity, I was reminded of the necessity for early morning starts, and being off the inlet’s water by noon. Orford River watershed (“Papknatch” to the Xwemalhkwu) is home to about 40 Grizzlies. A canyon and series of waterfalls confine the salmon runs in the lower 5 kilometres of the river. With mountains rising to 2,500 meters on both sides of the river, the Grizzlies are forced to stay on the Orford flood plain during their fish-eating season. This 5 square kilometre area is crawling with bears! When I began designing this expedition four years ago, I thought my challenge was to safely combine a sea kayaking trip with a bear watching experience. Since then I’ve come to understand that there is no such thing as really “safe” in the presence of grizzly bears. I’ve observed many grizzlies up-close and have had to realise that when you’re near enough to watch, then you’re close enough to be watched back. And a grizzly can close a 50-meter gap in a few seconds. Even on the river, grizzlies can wade through deep water faster than a kayaker can paddle. How could I plan a trip that intentionally put people in an unavoidably dangerous situation? The Xwemalhkwu people offered me a vision. Every autumn until a century ago, the Xwemalhkwu packed belongings into cedar canoes and paddled the massive dugouts from their summer village to autumn’s camp at Orford River. And for the same three thousand years, at exactly the same time, the grizzlies showed up for the same reason: to fish salmon. For both people and bears, the fish were critical to survival, and through the millennia they learned to share the river valley and fished peacefully side by side. According to the Xwemalhkwu elders, there is no history of conflict; the Papknach bears seem to accept the people as a part of the valley’s scenery. From the Xwemalhkwu point of view, they are simply two distinct nations sharing the same land and the same food. During our kayak expeditions to Papknach, we had the rare treat of watching native people spearing salmon less than 50 meters from grizzlies lunging for other fish; each aware of the other and leaving a respectful distance. The grizzly bear is psychotic about food. After emerging from hibernation, a grizzly needs to increase its body mass by 50% to ensure survival. Failing to gain enough weight ensures death during winter hibernation. During a winter sleep, the average grizzly burns more than a million calories! Nature gave the great bear an overpowering drive to eat. According to the Xwemalhkwu, there are only two ways to really piss off a grizzly; you can threaten its food supply or threaten its cubs. For the unwary, it is quite possible to do both without even knowing it. In a food-rich environment like a river full of spawning salmon, the grizzlies tend to be pretty easy going. Nevertheless, you must always remember that a 600-pound bear can kill you in an instant. With that in mind, a lot of real interesting thoughts go through your mind when you’re watching a big grizzly less than 50 meters distant. With 25 years of experience living and guiding in BC’s backcountry, I’m still “awed” on a regular basis, but I generally feel pretty “grounded” and leave the word “spiritual” for the vocabulary of wilderness-starved participants. Last summer though, I had my moment. Standing on a small sandbar in the Orford River with 8 participants and a Xwemahlkwu guide, we were surrounded by 5 big grizzly bears busily fishing. After a while one of the bears absentmindedly strayed to within 10 meters of us. Watching, waiting, finally our guide spoke, reminding the bear that we were there, and asking him to leave. It was all so calm (except for our racing hearts) and unconditionally a spiritual experience. Coast Mountain sea kayak tours are “unsupported” meaning that we pack everything we need and tent-camp along our kayaking route. We also camp as we paddle the shore of Bute Inlet on our Xwemahlkwu Grizzly Expedition, though on this trip we are well armed with bear bangers and pepper spray. But there is no safe or comfortable option for camping on the estuary, so the Xwemahlkwu offered us space in the solid buildings of their camp. We were warned that before we moved between kitchen and bunkhouses we should check the 30-meter route for grizzly bears. Just after lunch one day, our Belgian participant Erwin, stepped out the front door and slammed back in wide-eyed and breathless exclaiming that there was a bear just outside! We cracked open the door and watched an 800 pound male amble away from the kitchen, where he had been drawn by the smell of food. During the 72 hours we were at Orford, we saw 30 grizzlies, some from our kayaks while paddling in the estuary, and many up-close while we were with Xwemahlkwu guides at the gravel bar. Was kayaking among the bears a sensible thing to do? I couldn’t find any handbooks or information about watching grizzlies from the waterside. The Xwemahlkwu thought it would be OK, but they had never made paddling among the bears a part of their interactions. At first I felt confident that I could paddle faster then a bear could wade, but that was only before I watched them fish. Try catching a salmon in a river with your bare hands… Even in deep water the most massive grizzlies move with astonishing precision and speed! One morning at high tide, we paddled a kilometre upstream on the tidal bore and hung onto a submerged root while we waited for bears. Our patience was rewarded when a female and two cubs emerged at the river’s edge. Sensing us, the mother bear immediately lowered her head and flattened her ears, a clear signal that she felt threatened. Her cubs bounced and played around unaware, but I will never forget her penetrating stare, and my respect for motherhood increased exponentially that day. I still have a lot to learn about being around Grizzlies. Here are a few things that I have come to understand. · Grizzlies need space like we need air and they need people to respect that. These bears also demand space and respect from other grizzlies. Grizzlies also need a lot of food to survive and any being that threatens a bear’s intended food will probably be challenged. · Grizzly bears have the lowest successful reproduction rate of any mammal in North America. Female grizzlies are the world’s best moms; they have to be. Females will always vehemently defend their young, so it is no surprise that most grizzly attacks are from mother bears that have felt surprised or threatened. · An easy, reliable food supply sets the best stage for viewing opportunities. Surrounded by abundant food (such as spawning salmon) bears become more relaxed and can act almost casual around humans. · Coastal grizzly bears utterly depend on the salmon runs for survival. Even moderate warming trends have already affected salmon returns. In 2004 a number of BC’s major salmon runs collapsed due to high river temperatures. Habitat destruction has also had serious impact on both salmon and bear populations. The future for BC’s coastal grizzly bears is a perilous path and some apparently trivial environmental change could easily spell disaster. · Bear watching opportunities are best where grizzlies and people successfully coexist. The Xwelhhlkwu people will tell you that coexistence means mutual respect of territory. When bears trust people to leave them alone, then bears are more apt to ignore human activity. The cardinal rule of coexisting with bears is that they can never be allowed to associate humans with a food supply. Managing garbage is of utmost importance. At their Papknach camp the Xwemalhlkwu are exceedingly careful with waste. Everything from the kitchen is washed and sorted for recycling. Other waste is stored carefully until the boat makes a trip to town -- 60 miles to the nearest recycling depot in Campbell River, a significant recycling effort!! My experiences with the Orford grizzlies have given me many amazing moments, new insights, and profound respect for the complexity and power of nature. I also have renewed admiration and sympathy for the profoundly misunderstood and very vulnerable grizzly bear. Getting to know the Xwemalhkwu has also been an amazing experience. I continue to be humbled, for the Xwemalhkwu people receive us with such warmth and hospitality. Since first European contact more than 150 years ago, the Xwemalhkwu have been robbed of their land, denied their culture, and forcibly deprived of their children who were taken away to prison-like residential schools. In return we gave them smallpox and missionaries. Despite these and other historic abuses, the Xwemalhkwu have shown us only generosity and kindness. Late on our final night at Papknach I lay pondering Life and the many things I learned in the presence of the bears. Contemplating the relationship between the Xwemalhkwu and the grizzlies, I think these people have connection to a reality most of us can’t begin to comprehend. New age gurus might call it mystical, but for the Xwemalhkwu and the grizzlies, it is simply a mutual understanding beyond the scope of modern thinking. Lost beyond words, I am trying to think of something to put it all in focus but my vision is not clear. In the morning we launched our kayaks at daybreak. Not willing to take any chances with the wind, we set out quiet and thoughtful. Bathed in sunrise light, the mountaintops towered above misty bright clouds, glory all around us. Just before we rounded the edge of the bay, we heard a truck bouncing down the dirt road to the dock, and people jumped out. It was our Xwemahlkwu friends waving goodbye. We waved back and paddled on. Somewhere down the inlet I finally remembered the Henry Beston quote that had eluded me: “We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken a form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth “<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7150834-112932770725091167?l=www.coastmountainexpeditions.com%2Fsea-kayaking-bc-blog.html'/></div>Coast Mountain Expeditions, Lannie & Ralph Kellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13349751263566046749noreply@blogger.com