A Vancouver Island Bear

I can tell you all about the beauty of Vancouver Island. From the ferry ride across the strait to the furthest western point of Tofino, the Island is a Canadian treasure. For these and other reasons, Vancouver island is a popular destination for tourists and retirees alike. So how could such a place — of all the places I have seen throughout the Rocky Mountains (there have been a few) — swiftly bring me into the clutches of a hungry bear? Maybe it was fate, but I shall herein recount the tale…

Firstly, how did I come to discover Vancouver Island, anyway? I suspect that a bit of background clarity will assist with the development of this epic tale.

So, t’was midsummer morning (as this story happened over a decade ago), when a friend and I embarked on this great and magical journey to reach Vancouver Island. Of course, this friend did mention — before our hasty departure — how she'd vacationed in Tofino with her family, almost every year, up until this very year. And, though we were currently having a rather swell time lodging near the warmest lake in Canada (Osoyoos), we still had about a week's vacation time to spare. Thus, it was settled altogether rather quickly: we would venture off together into the unknown wilderness, at once. It was at least a day’s journey by car, but no matter — the call for a more daring adventure was strong with this one!

The journey from thence didn’t exactly start on the right foot though. We were unfortunately stalled by a minor car malfunction (which turned out to be just a worn-out engine fan belt; but it needed immediate replacing). Luckily enough, we were still within the city limits, and thus not far out of the way from assistance. Of course, the morning with the mechanic was a write-off, to be sure, but thereafter we wasted little time cruising along towards the West Coast via the number 3 highway.

I suppose it’s worth mentioning that for all the lakes you pass along this road — all of which sparkle a distinct and constant turquoise-blue — there are mountains that vary a great deal in colour and shape, and desire to enclose them. Coming from the East, the sharp mountain peaks of the Continental Divide begin to level out — becoming drier, arider, and much rounder, as one approaches the valley. Towards the West Coast, however, the climate is much wetter, and thus the vegetation becomes much more lush and green. But, altogether, the back road on the number 3 is a rather fascinating drive.

When we arrived at the ferry terminals in the early morning, before anyone else, we proceeded to park up at the front of a lane. And it wasn’t long before cars began pulling up behind us, and alongside, to box us in.

Skip ahead just a few hours later, and we were cleared to drive forward and board the ferry. The journey across the strait took less than 90 minutes. It was a clear day, with a bit of wind blowing from the open waters during the ride. No orcas in sight, unfortunately. But, that didn't stop us from leaving the car to wander the ferry. We took turns capturing pictures from the vessel prow as well as along the bulwarks. We also spent some time below the deck, where the seating was made more readily available.

Once we disembarked, at the Nanaimo Terminal, we didn’t stop the car again until we reached Qualicum Beach; whereupon we walked along the sand and stretched our legs, before continuing westbound on highway 4.

We pulled off the road again shortly thereafter when we reached Cathedral Grove: A park that is more of a historical site, with ancient 800-year-old moss-covered trees that are so big one alone could easily shelter you, like a home in a downpour. The footpath here was well maintained and there were plenty of 'photo opportunities. And you’ll most definitely experience enough wonder and awe when looking upon these trees on steroids, that you might just convert to the life of a tree-hugger, after all.

But, where is this bear story?

I shan’t disappoint you…

We continued on the number 4 highway, until, eventually, we reached a fork in the road at the very western end of the island. With a right-hand turn and a few more miles, one would eventually drive into Tofino. But we opted instead to turn left into Ucluelet. And it was here in Ucluelet, at dusk, when we set up camp at the local campground...

Yet, we were still able to enjoy some of the activities before the encounter; for, it was, in fact, the second night at the campground when the bear approached...

From walking along the beaches and collecting washed-up sea shells, to dining at the local pubs and enjoying local artwork, there's plenty to do around Ucluelet.

There’s also more hiking available on the Rainforest trail, or the Ancient Cedars loop — if you’re keen.

What’s more, I stumbled upon one of the best sandcastles I had ever seen in my life — whilst just strolling along Long Beach!

We even rented some surfboards and went out to hit the waves just a few hours before the encounter.

So, at last, after finishing the night off with some singing around a campfire, we retired to our tent for the night...

We awoke abruptly (around 3 am) to frantic shouting coming from the tent adjacent to ours. It was, the unmistakable and clearly uttered, “GET OUT BEAR”, which prompted me, almost with a sort of instinct, to reach for the car key in the side pocket of my tent. And with the key in hand, I turned to make sure my friend was on board with the idea of… well, fleeing to the car.

And with a nod, and a whisper in the dark to proceed, I opened the zipper (which was facing the opposite direction from whence the bear cries came), and, made a dart for the car — being sure that my friend was following close at my heels.

By taking the plunge into the dark with no bear spray, nor any true idea of where the bear was at that particular moment, you can bet we counted ourselves lucky when we did arrive back at the car, unscathed; and of course, once we were both safely inside, we didn't hesitate to turn the engine on immediately, to search for a sign of the bear with our headlights.

Sure enough, within a minute or two of shining the beams upon the path whence we exited from, a gigantic black bear on all fours waltzed right on by our vehicle. He didn’t pause; he didn’t stare — it just continued in the direction of the other tents and disappeared into the darkness.

The sheer size of it though!

It dwarfed our car.

I'm sure if the bear had wanted to, it could have easily made a snack out of the both of us.

So we drove off and spent the rest of the night in the car on a lighted street until daybreak came.

Upon our return the next morning, we heard a word from the remaining campers that, thankfully, no one was hurt; but the bear did manage to poke its head into at least one other tent.

Slightly more entertaining was that the bear had made off with a cooler in the night...

The corner of it had been bitten clean off and the contents within it were carried away.

It's hard to forget the extent of the damage to the cooler when the remaining campers did show me it. So now I always carry bear spray and a hatchet whenever I camp in the woods.