The moment a grizzly stopped hunting fish ... and noticed me

Great paws outstretched, the grizzly bear splashes through the river towards me and my heart leaps into my throat. Suddenly, the bear pulls up and scans the disturbed waters with a confused look.

The salmon it was hunting in the shallow pebbled river has escaped, but now he is aware of something else: me, and our small group of watchers, on the elevated riverbank above him. Ears perked up straight, his great brown muzzle curiously sniffing at our scent, he makes for the fallen tree that bridges the gap between us.

The grizzly turns its attention to the writer’s group.Credit: Justin Meneguzzi

“No, you can’t come this way,” says Heather Robinson, who crouches at the edge of the bank just above the grizzly. Despite having a 200-kilogram apex predator just metres from us, Heather’s voice is calm and authoritative, as you’d expect from a former schoolteacher used to scolding teenagers. The obedient grizzly turns and walks off down the river. The pulse thumping in my ears settles.

“Bears respond well to the tone of your voice,” says Heather, my Indigenous Kitasoo/Xai’xais guide. “Bear spray is a last resort, but no one here has had to use it.”

We’re seated on logs at the bend of a river inside British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest, a 6.4-million-hectare temperate wilderness on Canada’s Pacific Coast. The late summer sun is beating down but here, in the scented shade of giant fir trees, the air is still and cool. Hummingbirds come and go in their search for nectar. It’s the perfect place to watch bears fishing or napping in the sun.

Making a splash – a grizzly fishing near the rainforest.Credit:

Born and raised in Klemtu, a small town wedged into the folds of a coastal fjord, Heather has spent much of her life in the rainforest, including looking for the best places to see what she calls her “extended family”. Despite our group witnessing nearly 20 grizzly bears this morning, they are not our quarry.

Somewhere in this vast conservancy is the elusive spirit bear: a black bear born with a rare genetic mutation that turns its coat a luminous white. Easily mistaken for its polar cousin, the spirit bear is considered sacred by the Kitasoo/Xai’xais people and revered in their songs, stories and art.

The sacred and elusive spirit bear.Credit:

For centuries, the spirit bear’s existence was kept secret by elders who rightly feared it would be targeted by European trappers and poachers. It wasn’t until the 1990s when documentary makers descended on the rainforest that word finally got out.

Each year since, thousands of travellers navigate a mosaic of islands and waterways in the hopes of seeing one, but it isn’t easy. If spotting a grizzly is like trying to find a shaggy needle in a pine haystack, encountering a spirit bear is like looking for a grain of salt. Previously it was believed about 400 individuals existed in the whole world, but new surveying suggests a more accurate figure may be less than 100.

I’ve come to Spirit Bear Lodge, an Indigenous-owned retreat in Klemtu, a four-hour light plane and boat journey from Vancouver. The lodge employs nearly all its staff from the community, and a portion of its fees help fund scientific research and conservation programs, including an Indigenous-led push to elevate the rainforest to national park status. Their advocacy has led to bans on hunting grizzly and black bears, which also protects the spirit bear.

An eagle with its catch.Credit:

With the help of experts such as Heather, I have a greater chance of spotting a spirit bear at prime wildlife-viewing sites reserved exclusively for the Kitasoo/Xai’xais community, including this river bend patch that Heather marked out herself.

After a few hours of sitting in hushed awe, Heather leads our group to a motorboat waiting to ferry us back to the lodge for dinner. We emerge from the treeline into an open estuary and I realise we’re being escorted by two grizzly bears, one on each side, who have come to see us off.

The next morning we’ve barely left the sheltered waters surrounding the lodge when we run into a pod of humpback whales, who are making the water’s surface boil with their energetic feeding below. “If the timing is right, you can usually hear them singing as they swim between the islands,” says my guide, Johnny Berg.

Johnny drops a small microphone into the black water then fiddles the dials on an amplifier, which emits only gentle static. “They’re too busy eating to sing for us today,” he tells me, adjusting his baseball cap then resignedly packing away the recording kit.

A humpback breaching.Credit:

Leaving the cetaceans to their feasting, we’re joined by seals and dolphins as we motor north towards a river system known for its black bears, a smaller and shyer cousin of the grizzly. A short hike brings us to another viewing spot along a stretch of river where bears frequently fish for salmon.

It’s late September, exactly when sockeye salmon should be heading upstream and into the jaws of waiting bears, but the fish are late this season. With no salmon to hunt, Johnny guesses the bears may be foraging for berries elsewhere. As with all wildlife-viewing, there are no guarantees, but Johnny is optimistic we may yet see a spirit bear.

Changing tack, the next day Heather leads us to an unnamed cove. Hopping off the boat into cold, shallow water, we follow fresh wolf tracks up the beach and into the trees. The cunning wolves have evaded us, but instead we find a deep, terraced recession. Two enormous tree trunks, which once crossed each other to form an arch, have collapsed into the ditch.

Through the rainforest.Credit:

Heather explains that this is the site of a former big house, a gathering place for the Kitasoo/Xai’xais peoples to host feasts and ceremonies, called potlatching. When the Canadian government outlawed potlatching from 1885 to 1951, they would come here in secret to continue their traditions. Some would never make it home afterwards, drowning in the challenging waters surrounding the island. We’re the first visitors permitted here this season.

Although the clearing has become overgrown, the widespread presence of false lilies – which grow on disturbed soil – reveal this site would have housed hundreds of people during its prime. There have been no formal excavations, but cultural artefacts are still being found at sites such as this and elsewhere along the coast.

“We’re in the process of trying to start a museum, but we want to make sure we have the right processes in place to protect [the artefacts] first,” says Roxanne Robinson, a hereditary chief who has joined our excursion. After decades of oppression, each found item helps the Kitasoo/Xai’xais people fill in a piece of their cultural puzzle.

One day that museum will be housed in the new big house in Klemtu, which was opened in 2002 and is just a short walk from Spirit Bear Lodge. Where its predecessor was remote and concealed among the trees, the new house sits proudly on the shore with a brightly painted totem pole greeting guests as they arrive by water. Its opening was an auspicious event marked by a spirit bear walking into town just days afterwards.

Dressed in red and black regalia, with a large paw embroidered on the front, Roxanne invites me into the new Big House for a spiritual cleansing ceremony, called smudging, before my journey home. Walking inside, I can picture the house squeezed with people during potlach, their singing resonating from the high ceiling and the smell of meat roasting on the firepit, but today it feels cavernous with Roxanne standing alone in the centre.

Guests and guide in the Great Bear Rainforest.Credit:

Roxanne lights a bundle of lavender, sage and tobacco, then gently wafts the white smoke over me using a long eagle feather. I follow her instructions and scoop handfuls of smoke over my eyes, ears, mouth and body, cleansing each of them of bad intentions and influences.

The herbaceous smoke lingers on my clothes when I step out again into the cool morning air. Scanning the dark shoreline around the Big House, I hope a spirit bear might appear for one last gasp – but all is still. Somewhere, far from here, a white phantom stalks between the trees.

THE DETAILS

Spirit Bear Lodge on the edge of the rainforest.Credit:

STAY
Spirit Bear Lodge offers four- and six-night packages at its premium lodge from $8500. Included are an ocean-front room, daily guided wildlife and cultural excursions, most meals, beer and wine, return domestic airfares from Vancouver to Bella Bella, and scenic boat transfers to Klemtu. See spiritbear.com

TOUR
Adventure World offers a six-night Spirit Bears & First Nations Culture package at Spirit Bear Lodge from $11,905. It includes daily guided wildlife and cultural excursions, most meals, beer and wine, return domestic airfares from Vancouver to Bella Bella, and scenic boat transfers to Klemtu. See adventureworld.com

FLY
Air Canada (aircanada.com) flies direct to Vancouver from east coast Australia; Air New Zealand (airnewzealand.com) and Qantas (qantas.com) connect to Vancouver with one or two stops.

The writer travelled as a guest of Indigenous Tourism British Columbia (indigenousbc.com), Destination British Columbia (hellobc.com) and Destination Canada (canada.travel).