by Jimmy Harris
Unicoi Outfitters
A lot of Southeastern anglers regularly make a trip out West for the world-class trout fishing and magnificent scenery. My personal pilgrimages began in 1987, and I’ve tried to make it back at least once a year since then. The Yellowstone region is my favorite both in and out of the Park. I’ve been fortunate to observe a lot of wildlife while fishing; black bear, bison, moose, elk, wolves, even a few grizzlies just to mention a few, and I was humbled to be fishing in their territory.
I can’t say I’ve truly been fearful at any time. Alert for sure when a big bull bison chooses to slide down the bank right behind me and cross Soda Butte Creek. Goose bumps maybe when a pack of wolves began to howl up on the shelf across the river from me right at dark. Then another pack howls in response from the ridge behind me. Wow! That was cool. Think I’ll mosey on back to the truck now.
Grizzlies were elusive for almost 20 years for me. I just never crossed paths with one. Oh, I knew they were in the area. Occasionally, the Park Service would put up signs warning of them in certain areas or they may even close off an area, but I was never lucky enough to see one in the flesh. Twice I’ve found huge paw prints in the mud alongside a river that were probably only minutes old and certainly weren’t there when I fished through earlier. That will get your attention and heighten your senses.
In the last decade, I’ve seen a fair number of the big bears from a comfortable distance and often while standing in a crowd of tourists with spotting scopes. What amazed me was how a hillside of nothing but sagebrush could conceal a fully grown bear. If Old Scarface wasn’t on top of his dead buffalo, you could have been right on him without realizing he was even around. Amazing!
My relationship, as well as my awe with grizzlies, took an abrupt turn a couple of weeks ago while fishing the Firehole River near Biscuit Basin. My partners and I were off the road a few hundred yards but still within hearing of thousands of tourists and traffic. We had all gone our own way, and I worked my way downstream leaving the other two to fish upstream. Fishing was excellent; great dry fly action for beautiful browns. An hour into the morning I begin walking upstream to catch up with John and Vince. It crossed my mind that these were the “beariest” woods I had ever been in. It just felt different. Thirty years of minimal interaction with Grizz began to fade away as my head swiveled in all directions straining to tune in to my surroundings.
Finally, I see my buddies. Vince immediately yells across the river that John just spotted a big sow and two cubs a hundred yards upstream out in the meadow, on MY SIDE. John tells me I need to be on their side. No kidding! Problem was the river was too deep and swift where we were for me to cross. John even waded out to see if I could reach his outstretched hand, but it wasn’t going to work.
My choices were to walk back through those spooky woods for a quarter mile until I found a spot to cross, or ease my way upstream about 50 yards and cross where the meadow met the trees. John volunteered to slip up the other side and see if Mama Bear and her babies had moved on. I timidly followed on my side, staying well behind so he could give me a signal if the old girl was still hanging around.
Just as John is about to tell me he no longer sees them in the meadow, I step past a pine tree and look to my right. There, about the length of a first down on a football field, I’m looking at the 3-foot wide hind end of a bear. Thankfully, she’s facing away from me and the wind is in my favor. Otherwise, I may not be telling this story. One of her cubs is standing up looking right at me. I have no idea where the other cub is. Fear and clarity don’t begin to describe what’s going through your mind at this point. It’s amazing how quickly your brain can analyze a situation like that and send the signal to your feet to GET OUTA HERE!
Fortunately, I think I escaped without her even being aware I was nearby. It could have easily been a disaster. Interestingly, as I’m hot-footing it downstream in my waders, I find a place to cross the river that only minutes before seemed impassable. Here’s the bottom line and the advice I want to pass along. If you plan to fish in an area known to have grizzlies, regardless of your confidence level, carry bear spray with you. Not only in the back country but anywhere in the Yellowstone area. Nothing I can tell you can prepare you for a close encounter with a mama grizzly and her cubs. It’s one of the most dangerous scenarios you can ever face. Don’t take it lightly.