I’ll never forget the first time I saw a grizzly bear. It was through the telephoto lens of a camera and so mesmerised was I that it took me a good few seconds to understand why I could no longer get my camera to focus on it.
The reason, I realised with a rising concern, was that the huge 400kg animal – one that can run at speeds of up to 27mph - was just a car length away from me. I froze.
And though I’d watched all the safety videos and read the ‘Bear Aware’ literature pre-trip, now in the actual moment I couldn’t remember a thing. All I could do was simply sit and hope for the best.
The bear sniffed the air around me deeply and purposely – in a move that seemed to last forever (though was, in reality, only a few seconds).
Then, clearly unimpressed with the absence of berries (this was September and he was on the hunt for food to fatten up pre-winter), he sauntered away back into the scrub.
It was only then I noticed I’d been holding my breath...
After that unplanned close encounter several years ago I’d shied away from chance run-ins, and, if walking in bear country, would sing out songs so loud I undoubtedly scared away any grizzlies – and likely any hikers in nearby valleys too – in order to minimise my chances of happening upon one unawares.
What persuaded me to give it another go was the opportunity to watch them by boat. And not just any boat, but a nimble zodiac with a high draught meaning it could nip up into tidal rivers at high tide – prime bear habitat owing to the layers of nutrient-rich sedge grass – and sneak a peek at them in a kind of moving hide.