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Barbara Evans travelled on our 'Canada: The West' holiday and submitted this entry to our writing competition.
Great Bear Lodge by Barbara Evans
It was sunrise at Boundary Bay. A skein of Canada Geese formed a horizontal line in the distance as the foreground grasses trembled. Killdeer and Sandpiper stalked and strutted, Yellowlegs walked very elegantly. With Baker Mountain a dramatic backdrop, all was bathed in a soft golden light. Somehow, I felt this was going to be a 'golden trip'.
Our 2-week journey covered many miles and included an abundance of wildlife experiences. However, I will focus on our last extended destination, the Great Bear Rainforest of British Columbia, to share a mere snippet of life in the salmon run estuaries of this temperate rainforest.
From Great Bear Lodge we headed out morning and evening to either a bear hide or viewing platform. On one particular evening we were in full sunshine as we settled on the bank of the Nekite River. Peace reigned but the air was pregnant with expectancy. Wriggling salmon spawned in the clear, shallow water - a swirling kaleidoscope of reflected blues, greens and golds. Others, their life's work complete, lay keeled over, their future buried in the gravel. A plump Dipper perched on the rock in front of us, a single salmon egg glistening like a marble in its beak.
The spotlight shifted to the synchronised, darting movement of a small group of Common Merganser which, like a ballet troupe, would swiftly and suddenly all change direction, moving as one.
A nudge down the line and we were all focused on our first Grizzly Bear. From the overhanging branches on the far side of the river emerged a beautiful female, looking somewhat furtive as the sun caught the glint in her eye. She had a thick, dark coat devoid of any blond highlights. This, too, glistened in the sun. Strong forelegs powered by the distinctive Grizzly muscle 'hump' ended in huge paws with long, straight claws, clearly capable of inflicting serious damage. However she padded slowly on the pebbled shoreline with an easy gait. Not until she entered the water did her pace alter. She had spotted the salmon. Timing was critical - one false move, one rushed attempt and all would be lost. Beneath the water those same powerful legs moved cautiously. Above, her gaze was intent. She closed the gap and made a plunge for the catch. A myriad of tiny water droplets filled the air forming a cascade either side of her body until she reappeared - triumphant with her catch.
Being solitary meant she could eat as much or as little of this fat Chum Salmon as she chose. Others were in a different position, however, for it was not long before a family comprising mother and triplets appeared. These were first-year cubs who would have left their winter den high in the mountains for the first time earlier this same year. They had already learnt to swim and probably dig for clams. Soon they would have to learn where and how to catch salmon. They would stay with their mother for three years, learning a variety of life's lessons but, for now, they could still delight in being young and carefree whilst enjoying the security of their mother's protection as she taught them all about the food most prized.
Watching these youngsters wrestling and cavorting with gay abandon whilst their mother caught salmon was a real joy. In time they waited on the river bank watching earnestly as she brought them supper, still wriggling in her mouth. Portions sorted, they settled to enjoy their picnic. When they finally left, tummies full, the triplets were so engrossed in chasing one another round in circles between the bushes that they missed their mother moving on round the bend in the river. A moment of panic ensued, thankfully short-lived, before they were reunited.
Another solitary Bear, not as skilled at catching salmon, sat soggy-bottomed in the middle of the river enjoying a good scratch. Perhaps it was its head that needed scratching!
Yet another huge Bear was more interested in us, its audience. Bears see the world through their noses and this one would have been aware of us long ago. As it came closer, half a river's width away, to check us out, Tom reassured it with his familiar low-pitched voice. I sensed this was more of a formality with this individual who seemed curious but very relaxed. Perhaps it was intended as a reminder for us - after all, this was a very powerful, if benign, wild animal and we were visitors to its world. Indeed, what a privilege to be this close to such a magnificent creature. How profoundly humbling and enriching to be allowed to share their world and to witness the web wherein the cycle of life begins once more anew.
Read more about our 'Canada: The West' holiday.