Beautiful BC: Butte Inlet’s Grizzlies
The big boy with his second catch of the day - just after pranking us
I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life on our recent trip up to Northern Vancouver Island. I went out with the Homalco Nation from Campbell River into BC’s mesmerizing and almost untouched, Butte Inlet, and it felt like stepping into the heart of wild country.
The first grizzlies we saw were a mama and her cub. The cub was so young it was clear she was still figuring out the world. She didn’t know what we were, and I couldn’t tell who was more mesmerized — us staring at her, or her staring back through the opening she found under the bridge. Mama bear was calm, undisturbed. She led her cub down to the water, caught a salmon, and carried it back to shore. She laid it down and shared it, but I couldn’t help but feel she was also guiding her cub to look away from us. She knew these two-legged creatures were rarely good news.
We moved deeper along the riverbed and stopped at a small opening on the road. Nobody would dare walk this alone at this time of year. We got out of the vehicle and made our way to the river’s edge. Most of the group climbed up into a “bear cage” for safety, but I stayed on the ground. And that’s when we spotted him.
A massive male, right across the river, finishing off a salmon he had caught earlier. He tore into it with power and precision, wasting nothing. He noticed us too. Everyone went silent, cameras ready. And then, in a split second, he charged — straight toward us.
The adrenaline hit like a wave. I froze. I heard the Homalco guide say, “You’re okay,” and without even thinking, I shot back, “Are you sure?” He laughed and confirmed. My finger stayed on the shutter, clicking away. If it had been my last moment, at least the photos would have been worth it.
The bear was charging I could swear. He came close enough that I felt the air move as he came to a sudden stop right in front of me. No, no. He wasn’t charging us. He just secured his second catch of the day, or maybe third. He grabbed it and moved into the forest, settling in so close we could hear him biting into the fish, sharing scraps with ravens and whatever else lingered in the shadows. Minutes later, he emerged again, this time walking in the forest in our direction. We all climbed into the cage, just in case. He passed by, steady and sure, never once making me feel like we were his target. Not after that first run that is.
It’s hard to describe what it feels like to stand there, so close to a wild grizzly in his element. Every sense is heightened. Every instinct screams both awe and fear. And once I took a breath and calmed down, underneath it all was gratitude: to be there, to witness it, to feel the connection that ties these bears to the salmon and, in turn, to the orcas of this coast.
I’m still mesmerized by the depth of knowledge of the Homalco nation and their willingness to share it with all of us. I loved every moment. I’m in awe at their ability to hold the peace and the calm, as the three of us standing right by the water were near ready to pass-out from excitement and fear in that one memorable moment. I’m humbled once again at how much we have to learn from them, and from all First Nations peoples.
I’m already looking forward to going back again next year. Butte Inlet is one of those rare places where you can actually see how everything fits together. I need to clarify that, you can feel how everything fits together. Salmon, river, forest, bear, orca, us. We’re all still part of the same story here.
