I’d been breaking all the rules. Although I didn’t actually know that at the time. It wasn’t until the last day of my stay, having spent nearly a week trekking through the forests around the quaint town of Jasper in the Rocky Mountains, that I realised the numerous errors of my ways. I came across a noticeboard containing advice to members of the public of all the “do’s and don’ts” of using the plethora of national park hiking trails.
#1 You should never go walking alone in this type of environment.
Here I was, with just myself for company, mid-way through a seven hour round trip from Jasper up to Pyramid Lake, sat at the foot of Pyramid Mountain.
#2 You should always make plenty of noise to ensure that wildlife in your vicinity is aware of your presence.
I thought I’d been doing them all a favour by keeping quiet throughout my hiking excursion.
#3 You should always carry a first aid kit and ensure that you have suitable provisions of food and drink.
My rucksack contained a strip of plasters in case I got any blisters, a two-litre bottle of water and a couple of chocolate bars to keep me going.
#4 You should be prepared for adverse weather conditions, including the need for suitable clothing and camping equipment.
Call me overly trusting, but I had believed the pretty girl doing the weather forecast on the TV that morning, who told me it would be a fine and sunny day. And I fully intended to spend the night in my hotel bed.
#5 You should be confident in your ability to be self-reliant in difficult circumstances.
I wasn’t entirely sure exactly what that was even trying to infer? I guessed it meant being able to deal with more taxing situations than fixing a paper jam in the photocopier on your own, which was more or less at the top end of the difficulty scale that I was generally accustomed to.
So, here I was, slap bang in the middle of the most stunning, spectacular and beautiful scenery I’d ever had the pleasure to witness in my life. And it transpired that, basically, I’d been doing pretty much everything you’re not supposed to do.
But who cares about that when you are witnessing simply the most breath-taking views imaginable? It was a beautiful, clear June day, with mesmerising blue skies above me, and the occasional light, cotton wool-like clouds gently wafting through. At every clearing through the trees, and at every horizon I cared to look at, the rugged beauty of magnificent mountains surrounded me, some still snow-capped from the winter months before. The lakes glittered in the mid-day sun, and at higher points of the trails, clear, crisp, clean blue rivers could be seen meandering through the lower valleys.
The sun was not especially hot, but it was still warm hiking the rugged, undulating trails, and the expansive fir and pine trees I walked amongst provided welcome cover at times. The stunning green flora dazzled as rays of sunlight intermittently broke through gaps in the treetops. The foliage was thick in places, occasionally rustling as it hid an array of fauna around me. In other parts of the forest, the big, old pine trees were spread wide, giving each other room to breathe and to grow tall, branches towering high above me.
I’d barely seen any sign of civilisation for a couple of hours, until a middle-aged couple came into view, walking intently, taking the trail in the opposite direction to me. I prepared myself for some welcome, but brief, pleasantries with them. However, they quickly made it clear they would not be wasting time with any formalities and hurriedly spoke.
“Where you heading to, son?” said the man. “We’ve just seen a group of five, maybe six people up ahead, maybe quarter mile from here. They said there’s been a bear spotted further on, close to the trail. We’re heading back the way we came.”
“Really?” I said. The man looked mildly concerned at the flash of excitement that had very obviously appeared on my face. “Well, I was planning on taking the loop right around and back through to Jasper…”
“We’re not taking any chances. No point putting yourself in any danger. You out here on your own?”
“Err…yeah. Yes, I am.” He looked worriedly at me for a brief second, then his partner, by his side, tugged gently on his sleeve. He nodded at her.
“Well, you stay safe, young man.” He turned to his wife, gave her a silent shrug, and they both turned and scampered off and away down the trail.
“Thanks. You too…” I called after them. Neither of them turned around, the man merely raised his right arm in a waving gesture as they departed. I watched them for a few moments making their hasty retreat and deliberated about what I should do. There appeared to be just one sensible option.
I took a long swig from my water bottle. Then I checked my phone to ensure that the setting was primed to use the camera mode and continued along my originally planned route.
The adrenalin began pumping through my body as I made my way along the trail, making sure that my eyes and ears were firmly peeled for any unusual movement or sound. Tremendous feelings of nervous excitement, intrigue and anticipation enraptured me. This was now a proper adventure into the unknown.
And then, very quickly, a sense of apprehension and severe worry engulfed me. As I moved further along the trail, I began to realise that I could hardly breathe, and my heart was beginning to beat faster and louder against my chest than I’d ever known it do before. Every tiny twitch or rustle in the foliage around me or noise from the dense forest sent my senses into overdrive. Every movement, either from myself or the woodland surrounding me, seemed to increase the panic and paranoia that was developing inside.
What on earth was I doing here? I wasn’t prepared for any of this at all. I was massively out of my comfort zone. I was stumbling my way through a forest thousands of miles from home, potentially heading towards a thousand-pound grizzly bear that, with one swift swipe of his claw, could make an appetiser out of me. But I carried on going, in part because I no longer dared to turn around. That might mean having my back to my predator.
The incline of the trail was slowly beginning to increase, and the surface of the path was becoming more treacherous. Large stones jutted out of the ground, making me trip up. I hardly dared to risk looking down at my feet – that meant taking my panic-stricken eyes away from everything and everywhere else they needed to be scanning. As the trail turned sharply to the left beside a huge rock, the path rose much more steeply. I was virtually on my hands and knees trying to scramble up the slope. I kept trying to look in all directions to see if the grizzly was around, but it was becoming hopelessly difficult, which just increased my alarm and dread. Sweat dripped off my forehead and flowed down my face. It had little to do with the heat of the sun – this was complete and utter fear seeping out of my pores.
Gradually, after my struggles up the slope, the path began to level out and I was able to shakily stand upright again. Having reached the summit of this little climb, the trail opened up into a wide clearing. I rushed towards the centre of it and then spun a full 360 degrees to ensure that my nemesis was nowhere around me.
There was nothing. No big, hungry wild animal in sight in any direction. I began to breathe a little more slowly and calm down. Maybe there had never been anything to worry about in the first place? Maybe that nice couple had been mis-informed? I was filling with a huge sense of relief. My fears were now subsiding, and I allowed myself the opportunity to look at the surroundings for its scenery once again, rather than for the killer bear that had overtaken all my thoughts.
It was then that I felt a strange twinge of disappointment that I hadn’t actually come across the bear. Where was my bear!? This great animal, with the potential to maul me to death if we had encountered one another, had avoided me. Or, more precisely, I’d avoided it. In a slightly twisted way, there was a sense of anti-climax. I’d missed my ‘moment’ – witnessing nature at its wildest. It was a curious feeling. Then I came to my senses. I’d frightened myself nearly half to death during the last few minutes but, ultimately, had a massive let off. I may not have seen the bear, but I’d experienced something completely new and different, and seen a side to myself that I had never witnessed before.