Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary

Canada’s First Grizzly Bear Sanctuary

After a hectic year of intense research and development in the DIY medical home test field my sister Michelle and I have taken a much needed vacation. We planned a break from our sight-seeing in Vancouver and visiting indigenous aboriginal villages in the Queen Charlotte Islands to spend the next three nights in the Kutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary, on Sun Chaser a 40 foot, seven person yacht. As we motor up the Chatam Sound, the tiny port city of Prince Rupert fades into the background and disappears from sight. The foliage becomes denser, hardy Western hemlocks carpet the mountains that guard the entrance to the fortress. The cliffs rise up from the waters of 14-mile—long Kutzeymateen Inlet towards peaks over 6,500 feet high. Beyond these ramparts, at the point where the inlet meets the mud, silt, and fresh water of a large estuary, lies a valley of sedge fields, larch woods, and ancient spruce forests-the protected land of the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary.

This is temperate rain forest country on the wild north coast of British Columbia, Canada, where the battles and burdens of human civilization, our yardsticks and ticking clocks, mean nothing. The people of the Tsimshian nation, who hold aboriginal title to the land and have known this valley for many generations, call it “K’ztim-a-deen.” They suggest a variety of translations, including “a deep valley at the end of an inlet” and “the place where bear meets seals.” To the grizzlies, it’s a place of safety and survival. After the intense lobbying of scientists and conservationists the Canadian government created Canada’s first grizzly bear sanctuary, declared so by Prince Philip in 1994.
 

I catch a glimpse of humpback whales blowing spouts of water and waving their huge tails in the distance. Michelle pulls out her camera as we pass a group of Harbor Seals, resembling stuffed sausages, sunning themselves lazily on a large rock, chances are one of them will become a fine meal for a grizzly.
 

We arrive at Mouse Creek and anchor for the night. Our shipmates Alejandro, a chemical engineer, and his girlfriend Esperanza, a literature professor at the University of Barcelona are chatting with Vivien, a retired pharmacist from Melbourne. Natalie and Michael, Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers and avid nature photographers are impatiently standing by the prow fiddling with skyscraper length lenses, ready to jump into the Zodiac if a bear appears. The anticipation is palpable; I am thrilled by the idea of being 10 feet from nature’s largest remaining mammal in North America.

After a delicious dinner of fresh salmon, fragrant balsamic rice and a side dish of Caesar Salad we barely had room for our apple pie a la mode. Michelle and I opt for a leisurely hour in the kayaks. Neon green Spanish Moss hang off the evergreens weaving a lacy curtain along the coast. The harbor seals pop in and out of the surface and the song of the hermit thrush blends with the occasional screech of a gull. I have the odd sensation that I’ve entered another dimension and we exist in a perfect picture postcard world. As we head back to Sun Chaser I catch a swift movement from the shore. A sub-adult wolf emerges from behind a rock and warily watches our progress. Bears and wolves seem to live companionably in the Khutzeymateen Valley without feeling the need to defend their territory from other species.  A quick hot shower and I fall into my berth; the fresh air and exercise were the perfect combination for a deep night’s rest.
 

We awaken at 7 A.M. the next morning, it is May first, while it is clear, sunny and 23º C, the early morning is still a mite brisk. Dan the vessels captain, own special blend of fresh brewed Oaxacan coffee provides a much needed jolt of energy. From the warmth of Sun Chaser, we all stop to breathlessly watch through our binoculars as a female grizzly emerges from the edge of the forest. Dan informs us it is Lucy a bear he has known for more than 12 years. He became acquainted with her when she was an orphaned cub; her mother had possibly been killed, while protecting her cubs from a male grizzly. Lucy, a survivor made it against many odds. Still sleepy eyed after her deep hibernation she yawns, stretches and gazes at the meadow in front of her on this glistening day. Vivien gasps as two balls of fluff bounce into sight. They are Lucy’s newest cubs.

We abandon our breakfast, jump in the Zodiac and motor to the edge of the creek for a closer viewing and a terrific photo op. The cubs look to be about eight pounds. With their fuzzy coats, they resemble husky puppies. The young chocolate colored female stretches high on her tiptoes when she spots us. Her hair stands on end and she begins to blow and run toward the Zodiac to scare us off. Michelle flinches as the cub bluff-charges several times, repeatedly returning to her mother’s side for approval. The remainder of our small group just laughs and madly snaps away. Digital cameras have certainly improved the quality of nature photographs. As we continue to watch the cub follow his mother on a log covered with wet seaweed, he loses his balance and tumbles to the ground. Adulthood is still a long way off.
 

For the rest of the month until early July the mother bear will consume 60 to 80 pounds of sedge each day, but despite her mowing efforts, the grass will grow as high as five feet. By midsummer the sedge becomes tough and less nutritious, so the bears broaden their diet and dig up the tubers of cow parsnips, skunk cabbage, and chocolate lily. For desert they gorge on ripening berries. Thimbleberries, huckleberries, salmonberries and crab apples are bursting off the vines and branches of every bush and tree. Dots of bright reds and purples decorate the landscape.
 

Another food source is found on the banks of the estuary. Bear cubs gnaw at barnacles and crunch them up for the small crustaceans inside. When this seems like too much work, they bolt to their mother’s side, bawling like kittens until mama finds a patch of grass on a raised knoll and flops on her back. The cubs scamper around her chest and begin suckling. They purr loudly while mama lays back and caresses them with her front paws.

August will bring salmon into the river estuary on their way to the many tributaries where they will spawn and die. The inlet then comes alive as local creatures gather for a feast. When the first fish splashes the water surface, it sends the birds into a frenzy. Often the bears will explode onto the scene, out of the rain forest to join the plunder. The ever patient ravens and gulls jostle for tactical position before their air attacks. What starts as a single meal becomes a marathon feasting season.

Bald eagles are permanent residents of the Khutzeymateen. Their call can be heard from high in the old growth trees. Like grizzlies, the bald eagles look forward to salmon season, when they gorge themselves on the fish, sometimes to the point of being too heavy to fly. The massive birds, with a six foot wing-span, quickly claim the remains of half eaten salmon left by grizzlies.
 

Bears, birds, seals, whales and wolves all depend on salmon to survive. The old growth trees benefit from the fertilizer produced by all creatures and the salmon carcasses dropped at their bases. An intact ecosystem is extremely important in an old-growth rain forest. Plants and animals co-exist in a precarious balance that can quickly topple if one species is removed. Birds and small animals rely on trees for homes and food. Salmon need clean water, free of the silt of erosion from logging and the chemicals of mining. Nature if left untouched will preserve.
 

As we peacefully watch Lucy from Sun Chaser early the next evening we meet Scarface. It is happy hour and we are toasting a terrific day of grizzly bear viewing while enjoying a musky Chilean merlot. Suddenly we hear the crack of breaking trees and the huffing of a steam engine from the forest. As the crashing nears, Lucy pauses in her grazing, looks briefly towards the noise, and then bolts as 800 pounds of muscle and anger emerge from the forest and charge. We clutch our binoculars more tightly while the huge male grizzly froths at the mouth, his hackles standing straight up on his hump. As his head swings ferociously from side to side, he lets loose a deep moan from his scarred mouth.
 

This is the image of bears that horror stories revolve around, and we are rudely jolted to reality-not all the bears in the Khuteymateen are passive and amiable. This bear would not give a human a second chance, especially under the circumstances. He fixates on Lucy’s male offspring and quickly advances to eliminate his future competition for females and territory. His fury explodes and the usual agitation indicators-standing on his hind feet or huffing-are discarded. Instead he makes a direct charge to show he means business. As Lucy herds her cubs and runs terrified into the forest, Scarface follows in hot pursuit. At the forest edge he shoots one last furious glare at us before his black-brown body is swallowed by the trees. We return to our cozy dining table as Dan serves New York strip, a heaping portion of mashed potatoes and the ever present Caesar Salad.
 

It is eerily quiet on our last day in the Khutzeymateen, we hope Lucy has managed to escape Scarface once she reached the thick undergrowth of the forest. We climb into the Zodiac and speed toward the estuary past the guardian’s station as we search for other of the 60 or so bears that inhabit the sanctuary. The grass in the estuary has been recently trampled and we wait patiently but no one appear. Dan points out the bear tracks along the water’s edge. They form a mysterious contrast against the pebbly beach and rippled shore line.
 

On our last morning we sadly pull anchor and prepare to board the Zodiac to meet the float plane, Prince Rupert’s taxi that will fly us back to the heliport where we have left much of our luggage. Natalie gives a shout she has spied the cubs wrestling in the sunlight while Lucy munches on the grass keeping a close guard on them. Even Dan is relieved and he breaks with the schedule for a quick twenty minute zip in the Zodiac for a teary good-bye.

It is a fitting farewell, nature in all her ferocious beauty, while maintaining a delicate balance regains her privacy and shuts the gates to the fortress.