My hiking partner squeezed my shoulder, forcing me backwards on the rocky mountain trail.

“What is it?”

I was worried it was the cougar the friendly outdoorsy kid described while I washed dishes in the Upper Kananaskis Lake the night before.

“It’s a grizzly with her two cubs,” Brad managed to utter as we turned up the path stiffly and swiftly, bear spray in hand.

Relieved it wasn’t a pouncing cougar, I regained some calm since I felt no claws or teeth in me.

Still I could not look back.

I followed Brad’s lead on when to use the bear spray. I was concerned about not getting the bear spray out of the holster in time, but it was in my hand, safety off, no problem.

We made it around the bend. Brad felt we might be in the clear. Thankfully we walked down the mountain another 10 metres.

As I clutched my bear spray, Brad explained why we should wait before continuing up the mountain.

Just as I said, “What if the bear is coming this way?” she appeared around the bend, cubs by her side, strolling along looking for berries.

Again, I could not look back. We started up the path where the remains of a massive rock slide met with the path that descended down the rocks to the lake trail.

There was a bench on the decent, about six metres below the ridge where the grizzly and her cubs were sauntering along.

I reached the bench and finally looked up at the path. I thought about reaching for my camera, but froze.

The mother grizzly swung her head and stared at me.

As I repeated the phrase, “Please keep walking,” she did. She was really quit mellow for a grizzly with cubs.

Brad scurried to see if the bears walked past the ridge and down the path.

We debated whether to hike up the mountain or back down the lake trail to out campsite at the Point.

Suddenly we heard young voices screaming and chattering. We walked to the ridge. Three young boys and their dads were coming up the path the bears just walked down.

We asked them if they saw the bears. They didn’t.

The men were at ease with the fact their kids’s racket must have scared off the bears.

I’ve never been so happy to be in the company of boisterous kids.

We walked with them along the path, up the mountain, until I felt comfortable to carry on without their ‘protection.’

As we were getting ahead of the group, one of the kids fell on the rocks and started crying. His brother yelled back, “Don’t be bear bait.”

The gruelling trail to the top of the mountain took its toll, but the view was gorgeous.

Our climb down was just as gruelling but if we did not keep the pace, we would have to be forced to walk the mountain trail in the dark.

I had a flashlight that makes noises. I figured out how to make it sound like an abnoxious bird and believed the constant chirping would keep the bears away.

At dusk, we stopped at the bench below the ridge for a breather. We sat for a minute before Brad’s gaze over the valley became focused.

“You see another bear, don’t you?” I said.

Then I saw the grizzly running amazingly fast from the lake. It merged with the path and disappeared behind trees. I could not see if the bear was going to run up the hill towards us or toward our camp.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Brad asked.

I quit a few week’s before, but smoked it as if it actually tasted good and it truly could be my last.

We started the walk toward camp with the bear spray ready for action.

I was determined not to be bear bait.

— Originally published in the Calgary Sun on Sunday, August 5, 2007.