The good grizzly

The creek wasn't that wide. I only had to jump from the one big rock over to the little sandbar and then I could hop on about three other smaller rocks and I'd be right over the creek.

No sweat, even with this big pack and this big telephoto lens stuck to the camera on a monopod over my shoulder.

I jumped off the big rock onto the sandbar and the big pack drove me about six inches farther than I thought. My feet went into the creek and then slipped on the rocks and my feet, as my feet often do, came out from under me and I landed flat on my back right in the middle of the creek.

My boots both filled with water and the creek flowed up my butt crack into my groin.

What a way to start a hike.

I stood up, walked across the steam, took off the boots, wrung out my socks, put the boots back on and trudged up the trail.

My butt squeaked in my pants. Fortunately it was a windy day and the pants dried out fairly quickly. The feet never dried out, but I'm used to having wet, rotten feet. It comes with being a klutz. A badge of honor.

Five miles later I was at Otokomi Lake in Glacier National Park. It was late October.

There was snow on the ground up there. Not much. Just enough to make a track. Otokomi Lake was a place I'd never been before.

I imagine that it sees more than its fair share of visitors in the summer. But in October, it was just me and the mountain goats and a howling wind.

Or so I thought.

Darkness came quickly as it does in October. I slept pretty well. The stars were out and the moon came up and it was beautiful, even if the wind was whipping. I sleep well in a tent. Better than in bed most of the time. It's the fresh air, I suppose.

The next morning it was just getting gray outside when I got up to use the pit toilet.

About 10 feet from the can I heard a crunching sound. Like a squirrel eating a nut. I started looking up in the tree. I left the bear spray at the tent. It was just a short walk to the can.

And there it was, a fat grizzly rump right next to the toilet. I didn't stick around to see what it was eating. It hadn't seen me so I just high-tailed it out of there, back to the tent.

The light got better a few minutes later and the tracks in the snow told the tale: The bear sauntered into camp, came within 10 feet of the tent, sniffed the air and turned around, walked through another campsite that was empty and then went over to the toilet, where it found something to crunch on.

I didn't really investigate. All I know is this: I'm glad it wasn't me.

Good grizzly. Nice bear.