WONDROUS WILDLIFE WATCHING
A B.C. grizzly bear safari
With Canadian travellers likely roaming closer to home this year, an isolated patch of B.C. wilderness might fit the ticket.
You’ll have plenty of room to spread out on a Canadian grizzly bear safari in British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest, part of the largest coastal temperate rainforest in the world. In the six weeks that pink salmon surge up streams to spawn, the remote Bella Coola Valley in the heart of the rainforest, 400 kilometres from the nearest traffic light, features one of the highest concentrations of bears on the planet.
Grizzlies are as Canadian as Mounties and moose. Safely see them while accompanied by the professional bear guides of Tweedsmuir Park Lodge. These guides escort groups of up to six into the wilds on foot and by drift boat to observe the mighty apex predators, closer than most of us who are untrained would dare. While human instinct is to avoid bears, during their pre-denning period they are focused on fishing and fattening and are more tolerant of people.
British Columbia’s two-yearold ban on hunting grizzlies was a hard-won victory for the bears and a boon for the sustainable bear-viewing industry. Since then, ecotourism has raised three times more than the average contribution raised for bear conservation from hunting associations and is much more profitable.
In recent years, international demand for wildlife viewing has soared. But this year, when restrictions on borders and non-essential travel lift, tourism insiders anticipate many travellers will be hesitant to go far afield. That will mean more opportunity for Canadians, especially those within driving range, to join a grizzly bear safari — or another wildlife watching trip — many of which are often sold out months in advance.
High on our bucket list, we made our first trip to Tweedsmuir Provincial Park — South, one of B.C.’S largest parks. While flights are not usually a highlight, the 70-minute journey northwest from Vancouver to Bella Coola on a sunny late-august morning was stunning. In isolated terrain, the snowcapped peaks of the Coast Mountains, the icy tongues of blue-tinged glaciers, the sun casting diamonds off the Pacific’s shimmering inlets, and the waterfalls thundering over jagged slopes all had me snapping photo after photo.
That was just the beginning of a five-day nature odyssey that saw us toting cameras every step. Like paparazzi, we quickly learned Tweedsmuir’s abundant wildlife appears unbidden, any time, anywhere. Is that a bear ambling across the sprawling front lawn, taking its cue to delight guests gathered pre-dinner in the riverside viewing station? Yes, click!
This second-storey platform (which ironically corrals humans within an electrified fence), plus large chalet and main lodge decks, allow guests to watch bears on-property — not just while out touring — setting Tweedsmuir Park Lodge apart from other bear-viewing accommodations.
Another hallmark of the upscale wilderness property is gourmet food. Despite being active hiking, boating and exploring the Nuxalk First Nations’ millennia-old petroglyphs, a couple of pounds leapt aboard as we savoured the chef’s daily creations and an impressive B.C. wine list by night. This was capped by a soak in the outdoor hot tub or a nightcap nestled by the campfire under a Milky Way so unmarred by light pollution it was like a planetarium.
Tucked in a valley between towering mountains, the setting was beautiful, tranquil, raw and restorative, deeply connecting us to the marvels of Mother Nature. But it was the grizzlies in their natural habitat whom we had come to see.
From our experienced river and hiking guides, like Okotoks native Ellie Lamb, a bear-viewing guide with years in the field and certification by the Commercial Bear Viewing Association of British Columbia, we learned much about the powerful bruins and their ecosystem.
On forays into the old-growth rainforest, our naturalist asked us to respect the silence. Breaking the long-instilled “make noise” bear-avoidance rule kept me onguard, especially as she was unarmed, save pepper spray.
“Firearms are overkill,” Lamb reassured.
As we walked the spongy moss floor exploring the rich biodiversity
while looking for bear signs, her contagious passion soon had me seeing ursines in a less threatening light. Transforming how one views bears occurs, she explained, “when our fear of them is replaced by our respect for them.”
In spite of fresh scat and wet tracks, grizzlies were a no-show. While Lamb’s demeanour and bear guiding credentials assuaged my nervousness, I relaxed more observing them from the drift boat and viewing station where, over four days, we saw several.
Another day, returning from our final hike, we came upon a grizzly gorging on kinnikinnick across the highway. She was not bothered, nor, surprisingly, was I.
To cap it off, a patient last spell in the viewing station paid handsomely. Upstream, a sow and her triplets waded in for clumsy tutelage on catching the still fast-moving salmon, a comical end to a Canadian trip of a lifetime.