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Glamping with grizzlies: What it's like to sleep next to wild bears

If you go down to the woods today... - CopyRights by Henryk Sadura Travel Photography (CopyRights by Henryk Sadura Travel Photography (Photographer) - [None]
If you go down to the woods today... - CopyRights by Henryk Sadura Travel Photography (CopyRights by Henryk Sadura Travel Photography (Photographer) - [None]

Encircled by the hulking shadows of mountains, as fading stars surrender to the rising sun, our boat drifts silently in Quesnel Lake, as if slowly orbiting the bottom of a well. Plummeting 2,625ft at its lowest point, this is the deepest fjord lake on earth, seeping into some of Canada’s wildest terrain.

Sprawling ice fields feed tumbling glaciers, serrated peaks slope into swathes of temperate rainforest, and barely any tarmac has been laid in this intermontane plateau that makes up British Columbia’s Central Cariboo.

Plunged in darkness, it’s an overwhelming environment, but daylight softens the edges and extends an inviting hand. By 5.30am, amorphous forests have become clusters of innocuous trees and individual peaks emerge from ridge lines, expressing bravado rather than threat.

“Boy is that mountain making a statement today,” chuckles our veteran guide Gary Zorn, admiring the bold outline of Mount Wotzke cutting a sharp figure in the sky.

It’s a cue to start the engine and begin our journey along the Mitchell River, hurtling into the Cariboo Mountains Provincial Park, a place where people are far outnumbered by grizzly bears.

British Columbia's Cariboo Mountains - Credit: istock
British Columbia's Cariboo Mountains Credit: istock

A tough and endearingly stubborn 72-year-old, whose snow-white hair is the only indication of his senior years, Gary has been guiding in British Columbia’s backcountry for the past four decades.

A pioneer of wildlife tourism in the province, he’s the proud owner of bear guiding licence 001, having shunned hunting tours in favour of capturing animals with a lens. Local government, forest councils and National Geographic film crews have all sought his expertise; and his trademarked “bear whisperer” moniker has been deservedly earned.

Granted tenure over an area the size of Switzerland, he operates programmes through Ecotours BC with his wife Peggy, the eternally affable mastermind who keeps cogs whirring, but would never dare ask Gary to slow down.

In winter, he takes guests snowshoeing in search of wolverine and lynx, and in summer he heli-hikes through high alpine ranges where the wild inhabitants may never have encountered a human before. But his latest project is the one that excites him the most.

Striking another first for Canadian wildlife tourism, his Glamping with Grizzlies package allows tourists to camp safely just yards from bears, with two smart safari-style tents erected on a floating pontoon. It’s a 50-mile jet boat ride from former gold rush settlement Likely, where the Zorns host tourists at their Pyna-tee-ah lodge. Any roads hit a dead end a long time ago.

Tourists are able to camp safely just yards from bears in smart safari-style tents - Credit: ECOTOURS-BC
Tourists are able to camp safely just yards from bears in smart safari-style tents Credit: ECOTOURS-BC

Along BC’s coast, bear-viewing lodges are numerous, but here inland there are very few. No one else in the province offers such an intimate experience or would even consider venturing so far off the grid. “This is tough country,” warns Gary, through a bristle of frosted beard. “You need to know what you’re doing.”

Vapour coils from the icy water as we course down the Mitchell. An uncharacteristic early-October cold snap has sprayed the landscape silver, and hemlock spruce fronds are buckling beneath the weight of crystal jewels. Plopping into the water, startled beavers shatter mountain reflections, while swooping bald eagles and golden eagles tear through veils of mist.

Having wrapped up their salmon count for this season, the last boat from the Department of Fisheries and Oceans left yesterday, Gary tells us. From now on, we are alone. Killing the engine, he wades into the water and begins to pull our boat upstream to avoid disturbing the bears.

“The water was red with sockeye salmon this year,” he whispers, squelching over a riverbed of decaying fish guts. “I’ve not seen a run like that in 20 years.”

Even this late in the season, fish are still arriving from the Pacific, pumping life into the Cariboo Mountains, a flow of blood through its watery veins. But after reaching their birthplace to spawn, one outcome is inevitable. Head bursting above the surface, a flailing, gasping salmon performs its final death throes.

Gary Zorn, The Bear Whisperer, guides tours by boat - Credit: sarah marshall
Gary Zorn, The Bear Whisperer, guides tours by boat Credit: sarah marshall

“That’s the cycle of life,” laments Gary, in his earthy drawl. “All that effort just to come up here and die.”

It’s a gallant act, but by no means futile. Very soon, a new generation of fry will feed on the larder of carcasses piling up in the Mitchell, and graveyards on the riverbanks will inject nutrients into the soil, fuelling a forest ecosystem that really is larger than life.

Sunshine sprays through a canopy of Goliath birch, black cottonwood and aspen, invigorating a forest floor of patchy lime-green moss, draped haphazardly over boulders like a threadbare rug. Although several fallen trunks cross our way, there’s not a hint of decay; having found new purpose, splintered stumps sprout wildflowers and upturned roots are laced with lichens. One boreal skeleton still bares all its naked branches, rising from the water like an emaciated rib cage with every single clawing bone intact.

Gary hauls our boat on to a shale beach littered with iridescent scaly bodies, and we head into an ancient cedar forest, where girthy trunks will serve as our “blind”. There are no viewing platforms or safety rails; in Gary’s words, we are entering “the bears’ living room”.

Aware but unperturbed by our presence, a heavyweight grizzly catches salmon 15 yards from where we are standing. Climbing ashore, his glutenous haunches wobble like a trifle.

892797806 - Credit: istock
'Head bursting above the surface, a flailing, gasping salmon performs its final death throes' Credit: istock

“Will you look at the dimples on that,” says Gary, whistling. “That’s Jethro; he’s the big bruiser around here.”

Growing up in the east country, Gary was frequently dropped by his dad in the middle of nowhere with only “firearms and a fishing rod” to get by. As a result, he moves and breathes with the forest, guided by an intuition that has never let him down.

“Some bears will let you creep right up on ’em,” he claims, although he also knows when to back off. “I’ve never had to spray a bear and I won’t start now.”

Years of wandering through wilderness have taught Gary invaluable lessons that could never be learned from a blackboard or a book. “You don’t know anything until you come face to face with a grizzly,” he insists.

Recently, he has had to exercise more caution – a result, he believes, of two consecutive years of wildfires, which raged through the region and delayed the opening of his glamping project due to insurance complications. “We’ve seen some really grouchy bears this year,” he sighs. “The smoke upset some of them.”

Zorn on the Mitchell River, hunting for bears - Credit: sarah marshall
Zorn on the Mitchell River, hunting for bears Credit: sarah marshall

Caused by lightning strikes, flames consumed thousands of hectares and homes. Clouds of ash forced people to drive with headlights in the middle of the day, and intense heat sent the bears into a nocturnal feeding pattern. Although fires never reached this part of the Mitchell, the effects have been acutely felt.

That afternoon, wind direction isn’t on our side, so we sit on the decks of our floating home, cooking a barbecue feast and listening to the flutter of falling birch leaves compose a golden symphony on the shore.

Stirred by the shriek of a great horned owl, I awake in the early hours to hear Gary mumbling, trying to calm some of the bears down. “That was Homer, Jethro’s brother,” he tells me the following morning. “That grizzly was bawling at me all night.”

Having watched them grow from cubs, Gary is like an absent father to these bears, familiar with individual quirks and physical traits, but forever on the peripheral of their lives. We run into a sow with a voluptuous ruff and Gary identifies her, without hesitation, as one of Matilda’s daughters; and when we meet a bear so docile it ambles within yards of our boat, he knows unequivocally that it’s Henry.

Over time, Gary has amassed a family album of photographs and he writes a daily diary of encounters, which he is considering sharing in a book one day. “Bears are like people,” he says as we wade through the river. “They have characters. They even get wrinkles as they age.”

The great horned owl, also local to the region - Credit: istock
The great horned owl, also local to the region Credit: istock

An advocate for forest bathing long before the Japanese art of shinrin yoku became popular, Gary takes me to one of his favourite spots: another forest of 1,000-year-old western red cedars, one measuring 10ft in diameter which he loves – but physically struggles – to hug.

When we arrive, the gravel beach is strewn with driftwood, and paw prints in the mud reveal we are not alone. With roots reaching back to the last ice age, these monumental giants seeded long before Columbus discovered his New World. I can only imagine what stories they might have to tell, creaking and groaning in the wind.

Of the world’s five largest lumber companies, Gary tells me three operate in BC, and if it weren’t for the IUCN red-listed mountain caribou, he fears this area would have lost its protected status long ago.

Extraction forms the economy’s backbone, but it’s still controversial; some critics believe land mismanagement might even have been responsible for allowing the wildfires to spiral out of control.

For his part, Gary has ambitions to safeguard the area’s future by forming a conservancy body. Although the rings on his own tree trunk are ever increasing, he steadfastly refuses to grow old.

Even in the face of adversity, nature’s ability to rebound is remarkable. Emerging from the blackened embers of wildfires, fresh shoots are flourishing, and resourceful mammals have commandeered charred spaces as their own.

All endings invite new beginnings. That’s the cycle of life.

The essentials

Discover the World (01737 886131; discover-the-world.com) offers a four-night Glamping with Grizzlies trip from £2,796 per person, based on two people sharing and travelling between now June 26 and Aug 26. Departures from Aug 27 to Oct 16 cost £372 extra per person.

Both prices include full board, excursions, a guide, local transfers from Williams Lake, return domestic flights from Vancouver to Williams Lake and a pre-night in Vancouver – but exclude international flights.

Discover the World offers a range of airline options, with prices this summer starting at around £370 per person between London and Vancouver.

For more info on British Columbia, see hellobc.co.uk.

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