It was about 5:00 pm and we needed to make plans for the night. We were still game to spend another night out if we could find a good campsite not too far from Jackson, but we didn’t have a lot of time left and we were definitely not in a safe place. While we sat there waiting, Natalie read the pamphlet on bear safety that came with our big can of bear spray, which I had removed from its holster and now held at the ready, safety off. Among other things, she read that bears can reach speeds of 30 to 35 mph in a split second and can cover 50 yards in less than 3 seconds, so you should never try to outrun a bear. She also read they might make a huffing or woofing sound as a warning that they’re about to charge.
After waiting about 15 minutes without seeing either the mother or cub again, we considered it likely they have moved on, and decided to continue cautiously down the trail. I went in front with the bear spray in my right hand and my finger on the trigger. We walked slowly, talking constantly, and stopped every few steps to look around in a full circle.
We were just a stone’s throw from the clump of trees where the bears had been when we heard it – the moist, raspy sound of air being expelled rapidly through the snout of a large animal. Without ever having heard it, without having to think about it or discuss it, we instantly knew it was the huffing sound that warned of an imminent attack if we came closer. But it wasn’t coming from the spot where we’d last seen the momma bear just to the left of the trail. Now she seemed to be to the right of the trail, invisible among trees, but very close. We didn’t waste any time looking around trying to see exactly where she was. Quickly but without running or panicking, we took several backward steps, then turned around and walked steadily back the way we’d come, back toward the Granite Highline Trail and away from Jackson.
When we were well out of the bears’ personal space, we stopped and sat down again. Now what? We still wanted to head back toward Jackson, but there was only one trail and the bears were blocking it. The whole trip, we had avoided getting off the trails shown on our map because of our lack of hiking experience and my notoriously poor sense of direction. But there was no way we were going back down that trail. Assuming the bears had cleared out had obviously been a mistake – one we wouldn’t repeat.
As we pondered, I studied the map and noticed it showed a creek to the left of and parallel to the trail. This wasn’t the Cache Creek, which we wouldn’t reach for another half mile or so, but a much smaller one. I pointed it out to Natalie, and suggested we follow it until we were well past the spot where we’d seen the bears. It ran a little too close to the clump of trees for comfort, but not as close as the trail, and to maximize our distance we could stay as far to the left as possible without losing sight of it. Natalie was apprehensive and so was I, but we couldn’t think of a better plan, so off we headed through the knee-high underbrush. The picture below is the only one we took during our off-trail detour.
Our decision on whether to spend another night out or head back to Jackson seemed to have been made for us. Within two hours, we’d seen three bears and been threatened by one. We were about seven miles from Jackson, all downhill, and in about an hour and a half we’d be on the wide section of trail used by bikers and covered wagons full of tourists. We picked up our pace and figured we’d make it back by about 7:30. I have to admit the prospect of sleeping in a real bed was pretty appealing.
As the end of the trail drew near and we started to come down off the adrenaline high we’d been on for four days, we realized how tired and sore we were. Later that night, we would go out to get a bite and pick up a few items from the store, and our feet would be so sore we’d have trouble walking normally. During those last couple of hours in the Gros Ventre, we talked about everything we’d seen and experienced, especially on that last day, and it occurred to us that seeing the lone bear up on Granite Highline Trail had been a blessing in disguise. Had it not been for that incident, we wouldn’t have been so alert, and might not have seen the mother and cub as soon as we did. After all, we had only seen them briefly, when the mother stood up and the cub climbed the tree. If we’d been looking at our feet, we might have kept coming until we were right on top of them.
We knew we were getting close to Jackson when we heard talking and singing from a loudspeaker. Apparently it was a party of tourists who had been taken out into the “wilderness” two miles from Jackson for dinner and a show. A few minutes later, with the trailhead almost in sight, we passed a few horseback riders in cowboy and Indian costumes killing time and talking. Apparently they were part of the show, and were either done for the night or were waiting to make their entrance.
We did the trip back to Lincoln in one day, with only short pit stops. We had a lot of good conversation and the time went by quickly. Whenever we stopped and got out of the truck, our feet hurt and we walked gingerly. We got home about 1:00 am. Sam had made treats for us (lemon blueberry biscuits). Even though it was so late, we stayed up another hour and a half eating and talking and showing Sam our pictures.