No spray

I have decided not to carry bear spray when I go into the back country. Hikers I know won't leave home without it, and many non-hikers have heard of it and think it sounds like a great, almost necessary idea. I won't have it.

I was maybe four weeks into my second season of planting trees in central British Columbia. We lived in a camp that was little more than a large clearing on the side of a logging road an hour and a half from the nearest town. Each morning we would load our gear into a covered trailer towed by a 4X4 pickup truck and then jump into a big 4X4 SUV to ride to the clear cut we would be replanting that day. The trailer would have an ATV, boxes of trees, our bags, and our shovels. Everything was muddy or dusty, depending on the weather and terrain, but always a constant shade of dull brown.

We had to switch blocks part way through one day, so we all threw our gear in the trailer and bounced up a particularly bad road to the next piece of ravaged earth requiring new life. We opened the trailer and immediately started coughing. One of the thrown shovels had bounced into the heart of the can of bear spray strapped to someone else's bags. My gear was immediately below the punctured can, now covered in angry orange sauce. Once the air cleared, we emptied the trailer. I tried to carry my bags without getting pepper sauce all over myself. We came to a creek, which took care of the worst of it, but after walking up a hillside to the staging area for the afternoon, I realized I had definitely not left all the sauce in the creek. It was burning my hands and my face where I had wiped the sweat off. I was seriously uncomfortable, and no one had a solution for me. Basically, I did my best to work through it, with that stained hip belt rubbing remnants of hot sauce marinating my midsection even through my clothes. I vaguely remember it being a lovely day and a beautiful spot, but mostly I remember spending the day mad.

During my first season in the bush, one of the girls had a black bear approach her while she was working. She did everything right, not screaming, though it was her standard reaction to most events, backing slowly away, not looking it in the eyes, etc. Since it kept coming, she unloaded an entire can of bear mace directly in the bruin's face at close range. Later, she said the only effect it had was to stop the bear from advancing. Once her can was spent, the bear continued moving towards her. Only the arrival of another crew member with another can of spray convinced the bear that he might not be that curious after all. This wasn't some garbage dump scavenging bear long used to human beings, since we were at least a hundred miles from the nearest permanent settlement. Just a big, curious, possibly hungry omnivore.

Next hiking season I'll be carrying a shotgun on my forest forays. It is the recommended practice for the forest service, and I have an idea it'll actually be safer than spray that expires, blows back and can be punctured. I've encountered bears before and never had a problem, so I expect that experience to repeat, but I'll walk more comfortably through the mountain berries if I'm prepared.