The Long Version

In no way is this intended to be a definitive statement on how to react to an aggressive encounter with a Grizzly bear. However, it may be helpful as one more piece of a puzzle that might help you avoid injury to yourself or a bear in a similar situation.
I had been backcountry in the Shoshone Lake region of Yellowstone for several days, camping in sites along the northern and western shores of the Lake. I had seen very little bear sign during that time, and no fresh sign at all. Indeed, at that time of year, the appearance of Grizzly in the Shoshone Lake area is a rare occurrence. Of course, nobody tells the Griz that…
I had spent the first night across from the geyser basin on the west end of the lake. It had been an exciting stay, with two huge bull elk battling back and forth along the lake shore, often passing through my campsite within inches of my tent. Sleep was hard to come by because of the uproar, but that's a small price to pay when you have the chance to bear witness to such a wild natural pageant. It was with a great deal of regret that I packed up to head back east along the north shore of the Lake, passing over the low Cement Hills along the way. The Cement Hills are a low, rolling spread of deep wet ravines and dry hillsides that extend for most of the distance along the north shore. The trail winds and dips through the Hills, seldom climbing more than 50 feet. Though I'd seen no fresh bear sign so far on this portion of the trek, the region looked 'beary' to me. The cover was dense in each of the little ravines that I crossed, and the wet summer had kept everything rich and green. I remember pausing a few times to look closely at the little stream crossings, always expecting to see some sign of bear. However, I rolled into my next camp, not far from the backcountry rangers cabin, without seeing any sign that bears were in the area.
Once again, the night passed peacefully, with only an occasional ruckus being raised by the resident bull elk. I hung around camp for quite a while the next morning, enjoying the views across the lake and putting off leaving for the trailhead until near noon. I had about 8 or 9 miles to cover on my way back to the trailhead of the Delacy Creek trail, and knew that time would pass quickly on the mostly flat, easy path. I had really enjoyed the stay at Shoshone Lake and decided to check out some of the other campsites on the way out for future reference. The sites in Yellowstone are usually situated well off of the main trail, something that I'd like to see in other parks. It adds a lot to the privacy of the sites that you stay at. Also, when you reserve a site, you know that you'll be the only party staying there, unlike the Smokies, where you might find 20 other people packed into your campsite.
Maybe it was a premonition, but for some reason, I was a little paranoid about bears that morning. I had a long stretch of dark forest to pass through before reaching the open meadows of Delacy Creek. I was making a lot of noise, or at least it seemed that I was. Just before I reached the turnoff to site #8R3, I spotted my first fresh bear sign, a small amount of scat containing what appeared to be mostly vegetable matter. It was only a tiny amount, though I kept seeing more and more as I neared the turnoff to the site. I wasn't thinking Griz though, figuring that in the dense forest at that time of year, it was more likely to be a blackie. Still though, I started yelling, "Yo Bear!!!" more often and also whistled loudly a few times. At the turnoff, I walked downhill to a point where I could view the campsite. I stopped and made a few notes about the site and then turned and walked back to the main trail. I noticed that the trail to the toilet cut up the hill on the opposite side of the main trail. As a rule, the toilet area is usually located on the same side of the main trail as the campsite. Curious, I walked for a short distance up the hill, made some more notes, then turned and walked back downhill to the intersection. The intersection was on a small knoll. Approaching from the west, I had climbed a slight incline, and as I left, I started to ease downhill through the heavy timber and brush.
I had only walked a few feet when I heard a roar from behind. Spinning around, I saw a large black bear flowing through the downed trees and brush like smoke over water. My first reaction was, "Damn, that's the biggest freakin' black bear that I've ever seen!"
As the bear moved out of the deep weeds and brush and onto the main trail, I immediately saw the long claws and got a better look at its profile and realized it was a Grizzly. When I first heard the bear and turned, it was about 35 feet away. It only took about two seconds for it to close to within 10 feet. Before it reached the trail, I had my hands extended into the air, and was yelling loudly at the bear. I'm a former marathoner, and still do a lot of road biking, so I'm used to dealing with aggressive dogs. I reacted to the charging Griz just as I would one of the inbred pit bulls that make cycling so exciting in some of the areas where I train. The bear stopped moving in, but started circling around me, bouncing up and down on stiff legs, I suppose trying to look as big and threatening as possible. It was roaring and popping its jaws, and was slinging long strands of slobber. A note: to me, the sound that the bear was making was a roar. The folks I talked to in bear management later kept mentioning the bear "growling" - I suppose that it's a matter of interpretation. I know that I've never heard a sound quite like it in my life. Damn, the critter must have lungs the size of a 55 gallon drum. I've had blackies in the Smokies bluff charge me several times, especially back in the 70s when roadside feeding was creating more of a problem than it does today. That is a totally different animal though. Most of the blackies would rush in silently, then turn at the last moment and saunter by as though they'd never even noticed my presence in the first place. At most, they would occasionally do a bit of jaw-popping and maybe slap a few bushes around if they were really agitated. Not so with the Griz - I've never witnessed such raw aggression in any animal. It was an awesome sight, and I remember thinking during the encounter that it had to be the most beautiful animal that I'd ever seen.
I wanted to drop my hand down to reach my pepper spray, but couldn't drop my guard until the bear calmed down a bit. Once I was fairly certain that we'd reached a standoff, I reached for the spray, a 7.5 oz. canister of UDAP. I carry the stuff on my pack belt where it's quickly and easily accessible and can be fired 'from the hip'. As soon as my hand dropped, the bear jumped towards me, coming so close that it slobbered on my right leg. I fired the spray almost straight down into the bears face, giving it about a 2 second blast. It immediately moved back to about 10 feet, but continued to growl/roar and bounce up and down. Then it moved back in again - I remember thinking to turn slight to my left, presenting my right leg to meet the charge. By then, I had the spray out of the holster and fired directly into the bears face from a distance of about 5 feet. This time, the effect was more dramatic. The bear backed off a few more feet and gave me a look that I can only describe as 'puzzled'. It was strange, but I swear it looked offended - I hate to give human interpretations to the actions of a wild animal, but that was how it looked to me, like I had really offended its sense of dignity.
The Griz then retreated, but slowly, seeming to want to save as much face as possible. It was still displaying a threat posture, spread out to appear as large as possible. It would turn every few feet, growl loudly , and then move on. It was also rubbing its head against brush and weeds along the way, probably trying to wipe the spray off. Just before the Griz disappeared from view, I remembered the camera hanging around my neck and squeezed off a couple of quick shots, shooting from the chest without aiming. It was dark in the timber and the pix turned out pretty blurred, but the one accompanying this account is one of my most prized possessions.
As the Griz moved out of my sight, I also started backing away, continuing to yell loudly and steadily. I moved slow, being careful not to fall, hoping that the bear wouldn't reconsider and come back to settle accounts with me for good. I knew that the two blasts of spray had probably used much of what was in the can, and I still had a lot of miles to cover before reaching the trailhead. Luckily, the UDAP did the trick, and I saw no more of the bear.
On the hike out, I passed a number of other hikers and one backpacker on the popular Delacy Creek trail. Most of them were carrying spray, but none of them were carrying it so that it could be reached in a hurry. A couple had it inside their daypacks, and the single backpacker that I passed, a young fellow from Europe, wasn't carrying spray at all. He told me that he was heading west along the north shore of the lake, which would put him in the spot where I had my confrontation within the next couple of hours. I warned him about the Griz and told him to make sure that he made a lot of noise as he hiked through the Cement Hills. He replied that he liked to sing while he hiked, and that he figured that his singing would be loud enough to ensure his safety. I spent most of the next two weeks in the backcountry, and most of the folks that I ran across were similar in their preparations. Many had spray but few had any idea of what they'd actually do if they encountered an aggressive bear.
Lessons learned:
More than anything else, I feel that having thought through possible encounters was the most important part of my coming through the encounter unscathed. That, and the tolerance of the Griz. I can't emphasize enough the importance of pre-hike preparation if you're venturing into Grizzly country. You have got to consider the possibility of an aggressive encounter, and you need to have a plan in place. I owe a lot to the folks that I know that deal with Grizzly on a near-daily basis - people like Tim Manley, Grizzly Bear Management Specialist in northwestern Montana, Carrie Hunt of Wind River Bear Dogs, and Mark Methany of UDAP Products, who made the spray that I used. Each of them, along with a number of other people with a lot more knowledge and experience than I have with travel in Grizzly country, have contributed a lot of good advice and common sense rules for proper bear country etiquette.
The spray: I use UDAP bear spray. There are several good suppliers of the spray. I've also carried Counter Assault, though I've never had the occasion to use it in a bear encounter. I carry UDAP simply because I've met Mark Methany and I like his dedication to wild country and the critters that keep it wild. He himself was mauled by a Griz while hunting and instead of swearing vengeance on the bears, he started making products, good products, that protect both bears and humans in wild places. He also took time while we were at an international bear conference in Gatlingburg, Tennessee a few years ago to demonstrate his product to me and to point out the qualities that make an effective spray. On this occasion, I was carrying one of the small canisters that are sold at the Park stores, but I prefer the larger Magnum canisters. Because of the small size of the canister, I 'rationed' the spray when I used it, rather than delivering the large burst that is recommended. In the future, I'll either pack the Magnum canister or tote two of the smaller ones. It's un-nerving to exit the scene of an aggressive encounter with miles of trail still ahead of you, knowing that you've used all or most of the spray that you had with you.
It's common to hear folks that have had little real experience with bears chatter on and on about how the only defense that you need is a good .44 Magnum. That's bullshit, plain and simple. If you've never been up close and personal to a charge by an angry Grizzly bear, you have no idea of how fast they can move. Chances are that if you don't pull a Barney Fife and blow your toe off, that you will simply wound the bear and really piss it off. A mature Griz is a huge beast, and a bullet has to be placed precisely to stop a charge. Few people have the skill or nerve that is needed to do that. With pepper spray, you simply fire the canister, projecting a wide cloud of red-hot spray that the bear has to run through. The stuff works, it works very well, and most importantly to me, the bear as well as the human survives the encounter. I do not want to be responsible for the death of a Griz and if traveling in Grizzly country means that I have to start packing a gun, then I'll stay out. That's my side of the bargain that I make each year when I backpack in the northern Rockies.
Having said that, to quote Stephen Herrero, author of Bear Attacks, the Causes and Avoidance, pepper spray isn't brains in a can. Nothing beats using proper bear country etiquette when traveling through wild country. Keep a clean camp, make plenty of noise, avoid traveling at dusk or dawn when the bears are most active, avoid solo travel if possible, and never, ever, approach a carcass. Don't camp on trails or even close by a trail - the bears often use them when moving through the backcountry themselves and it doesn't make sense to block their passage with your tent. Obey area closures inside the National Parks that the Griz call home. Bear management has a tough job protecting the few remaining Grizzlies in the lower 48 and we can help out a lot by using a little common sense and by following the rules that they enforce.
And so, I now turn to what I did right and what I may have done wrong in my encounter at Shoshone Lake. In my opinion, the burden of 'doing it right' falls on me, and not the bear. I'm in its home, and like a guest in my own home, I should follow the rules according to its sense of what is right and what is wrong, to the best of my ability.
First of all, it's important to announce your presence when traveling through Grizzly country. Most maulings are the result of the bear being surprised. The Griz evolved as a beast of the open tundra, where climbing a tree wasn't often a viable form of defense. It learned to stand and fight - the old saw about the best defense being a strong offense is the creed that the Griz lives by. I had been making noise as I hiked along the trail from my camp that morning, especially after seeing the scat on the trail. However, I wonder if the noise was really adequate. I do know that the volume of my yelling increased substantially after the encounter, as well as the frequency. Sure, if you're used to hiking in places that aren't honored by the presence of the Great Bear, it's hard and sometimes downright embarrassing to move through the backcountry sounding like a character in a Monty Python movie, but it is a powerful tool in protecting both you and the Griz from an unexpected encounter. In short, if it knows that you're coming, it will usually either move out of the area or hunker down calmly until you pass on by. In my encounter, I think that I may have antagonized the Griz by walking back and forth several times, right by where it was probably concealed. I was checking out the campsite at the time, but from the bear's perspective, it probably appeared that I was coursing back and forth looking for it, much as the bear would do if hunting for elk calves. I probably passed right by the bear, within a few feet, at least 3 or 4 times without it revealing its presence. I was making a pretty good bit of noise, so it knew that I was there, but I finally over-stayed my welcome. By the time I finished taking notes on the campsite and moved on out the main trail, the Griz had had enough and decided that it was time to put me in my place.
OK, now the encounter is taking place. I've ran into Griz in the backcountry before, a few times in pretty close quarters. In each of those instances however, the encounter ended quite peacefully, with the Griz and I being able to make a dignified retreat. Each time, I was making plenty of noise and the bear was aware of my presence well before I moved into its personal 'space'. On one occasion, not far from the petrified tree on Specimen Ridge that the ranger-guided trips are taken to, I bumped into a Griz while descending the ridge, off-trail and alone. I knew that a bear was somewhere near by, as evidenced by a huge pile of still-steaming scat and numerous digs that I found. However, I had no way of knowing whether it was behind or in front of me, so I continued on towards the open meadows at the bottom of the slope, making a lot of noise and moving slow. When I was nearly to the edge of the timber and it appeared that I'd made it safely past the bear, I settled down on a stump to watch a small group of mulies work their way up the hillside. I must have sat there for about 10 minutes or so in the quiet, dark woods, watching the deer graze nearby. When I finally stood up, so did the Griz, and it was only 10 or 15 feet away from me. It was fairly small, probably about 300 lbs. and displayed absolutely no aggression at all. It was really quiet in the timber, far below the top of the ridge, and I'll never forget the sound of the water droplets falling from the tips of its claws into the small springhead where it had been laying. I could clearly hear the sound of its easy breathing as it stood upright, calmly gazing at me, nearly eye to eye.
Then, it dropped to all fours, backed away a few feet, then turned and loped off over the small rise behind its hiding place. In that instance, I never felt threatened in any way and even remembered to hit the button on my camcorder as it ran away, getting a quick shot before it disappeared.
I've ran into Griz on the south side of Specimen Ridge as well, but at a pretty good distance. In those instances, the bear made a brief run towards me with head and ears up, clearly moving in just to verify what I was. They then boogied out of sight. Again, I was making plenty of noise, and when the bears moved towards me, I talked to them in a loud voice with my arms spread out to help them recognize me as a human. It worked.
In the Shoshone Lake incident, I reacted as I would to an angry, aggressive dog. I returned aggression against aggression. It's not something that I'd advise as a defense, but it felt right on that occasion. I don't think that simply talking to the bear in a calm voice would have gotten its attention and turned the charge. Again, that's just my impression, but it worked. Having thought about the possibility of being charged and what I'd do if it happened helped a lot, making it possible to stay calm and perhaps even detached a bit, during the encounter.
Luck no doubt played a large role in the outcome of the encounter. The bear made a lot of noise as it initiated its charge, alerting me to its presence. A lot of folks have been mauled in instances where the only warning that they had was the sound of heavy panting and pounding feet against the earth a moment before the bear slammed into them. Luck again was with me in that the air was calm and dry, making the spray as effective as possible. Heavy rain or strong wind greatly reduces the effectiveness of pepper spray, and strong wind can sometimes turn the spray on the defender, That's something you certainly don't want to live through.
I was hiking alone - that's a bona fide risk factor when traveling in Grizzly country. Over the years, I've hiked and backpacked for thousands of miles in the Yellowstone region, both inside and out of the Park. I suppose that it was inevitable that I'd eventually have an aggressive encounter, and if that is the only one that I ever have, I'll consider myself a lucky man indeed. While it's safer to travel with a group, I have to face the fact that I'd probably have few chances to hike or backpack in Yellowstone if I waited until I could organize a group outing. I live for the time that I spend in the wild country of the northern Rockies, and traveling alone is a risk that I've decided is worth taking in order to have a life worth living. To compensate for the solo travel, I've become almost obsessive in my desire to keep a clean camp, and I work hard to stay extra alert when in the backcountry. Another factor in my decision to often hike alone is that many of the groups I pass on the trail are breaking many of the rules that I consider to be of supreme importance. I feel safer by myself in the backcountry than I would with most of the groups that I encounter. I've passed camps, especially the horse camps near the boundaries of Yellowstone, with food strewn everywhere, and hikers with their pepper spray tied out of reach on the backs of their packs, or even worse, stuck inside the packs. I've watched as wanna-be photographers risked the both their lives and the life of a Grizzly by moving inside its 'personal' zone in pursuit of a photo.
And finally, there comes the filing of a bear encounter report. This is important, especially if you care about the life of the bear. I wasn't aware of it at the time that I had my encounter at Shoshone Lake, but two fellows had been attacked by what was probably the same bear the day before I passed through. I say that it was probably the same bear since it happened in almost the exact spot that I had my run-in. In that instance, both hikers were bitten while trying to reach their pepper spray - which was tied out of reach beneath their hiking poles on their packs. Had they stood their ground together against the bear, it's possible that the attack could have been avoided, but that's conjecture on my part. At any rate, I reported my encounter, and to protect the bear, Kerry Guenther, head of bear management in Yellowstone, made the needed decision to close the area to human travel to give the bear time to calm down. I believe that it is especially important now, in light of the drive to remove protection for the Griz outside the Park, that the bear's needs are given preference over that of human users whenever possible.