This is his tale.
I waited for about 30 seconds before deciding that I could safely continue in the opposite direction to the east. As I looked out over a ridge, I saw a mother grizzly bear running west with her cubs. I spotted two cubs and a grizzly sow as I began my hike up into the high country of southwest Montana, which was an early-fall morning.
Approaching swiftly and close to the surface, she was sprinting with her ears pinned back. This was the genuine thing. It was completely different from the sluggish, meandering stride of the heavy, domesticated bears in films. As I turned, I noticed the female bear emerging from the hilltop approximately 40 yards away, directly approaching me. Shortly after, a sound from my left side grabbed my focus, just a few steps away.
She carried her momentum and speed through the orange cloud of mist, propelling me onto it. As we reached about 30 feet, I smashed the trigger down hard, unleashing a full blast of bear spray in her face. Within just a couple of seconds, she was nearly upon me. I had never imagined she could move through waist-high grass with such speed. Hoping to slow her down or stop her, I yelled out and quickly pulled the bear spray from the holster on my chest, instinctively removing the safety clip.
Choking due to the bear spray, she vanished within a matter of seconds, though it felt like an endless stretch of time. Her elongated fangs penetrated deeply into my right arm with every gnash, while the sound of the muscle being crushed and torn resonated in my ears. Gnawing at my arms, shoulders, and back, the bear swiftly positioned itself on me. To shield myself, I clasped my hands and encircled my arms around the nape of my neck. Plunging my face into the soil, I averted my gaze and hurled myself onto the ground.
Stopping to attend to any injuries that required care, I desired to continue moving and create distance between the bear and myself. Expressing gratitude to God for guiding me safely through this ordeal, I was confident in my ability to hike the distance to the truck. Although the bleeding seemed to be slowing down, the wounds were still seeping through two layers of clothing. My right arm and shoulder had sustained numerous deep puncture wounds, with my backpack absorbing the majority of the attack. Only briefly pausing to assess my injuries, I maintained a steady pace. I descended towards the trailhead and my truck, three miles below, with a strong belief that the bear had departed. The injuries were significant but not life-threatening, primarily affecting my arms, shoulder, and upper back. I considered myself fortunate to have survived a grizzly-bear assault and, feeling dazed, I cautiously lifted myself off the ground.
The bear knocked me to the ground and then turned away as I quickly reached for my pistol or bear spray. I didn’t have time to use either, as it happened so quickly. The grizzly bear was already within ten feet of me and turned around again in a matter of seconds. My adrenaline rush was subsiding and I felt clear of danger within minutes.
I couldn’t believe this was happening a second time! I was so lucky to survive the first attack, and now I questioned if I would survive another.
Once more, I shielded the back of my neck and sides of my head with my hands and arms, while hugging the ground tightly to safeguard my face, eyes, and vulnerable areas. The bear forcefully descended upon me, viciously sinking its teeth into my shoulder and arms with even greater aggression than before. The intensity of each bite resembled that of a sledgehammer with teeth. One particularly deep bite on my left forearm resulted in the audible snap of a broken bone. Instantly, my hand became numb and my wrist and fingers became limp and useless. The sudden surge of pain caused me to flinch and gasp for air. This slight movement and sound triggered a frenzy of additional bites to my shoulder and upper back. I understood that it was crucial to avoid any further motion, or else the bear would tear me apart. I focused all my concentration on disregarding the pain and remained completely still, with my face pressed against the ground. The bear continued to deliver more bites and claw swipes to my head, resulting in a five-inch gash above my right ear that nearly scalped me. Blood poured over my face and into my eyes, rendering me temporarily blind. Nevertheless, I remained motionless and silent. The pain was effectively blocked out by my intense concentration, will to survive, and adrenaline rush, although I could still sense and hear the force and tearing of each bite as the bear’s teeth penetrated deep into my muscles. She repeatedly lifted me off the ground and slammed me back down, only to bite again.
I kept reassuring myself that if I could just hold on a little longer, she would eventually leave to ensure the safety of her cub. In the hopes of bringing an end to the attack, I remained completely still, fully aware that any motion would only prolong the assault. Whether it be my throat, eyes, or face, she would surely flip me over and have access. On this path, I would eventually bleed out from an artery in my neck, and the bear’s strike was a constant fear. I genuinely believed that this was the end.
I pressed my face into the rocky dirt and my chest was smashed into the ground. For 30 seconds, she stood there motionless, crushing me. She emitted an almost gag-inducing pungent odor. She pinned me to the ground, sinking her claws three inches into my lower back, just below my backpack. I tried to hold my breath, afraid that she would attack again if I made a noise or moved. I could hear and feel her breath on the back of my neck, just inches away from my spine. In that brief moment of dead silence, I will never forget the sound of her sniffing and breathing. Suddenly, the bear stopped her attack and stood on top of me.
When would the next onslaught of biting begin, I wondered. But I still didn’t move, my breathing deliberately faint.
She was gone at that moment. The immense burden had been lifted off my body. I desired to inhale a deep breath of crisp air, but I was uncertain of the bear’s whereabouts. I pondered if she had departed to inspect her cubs or if she was merely standing ten feet away, observing me. I remained still for another ten seconds, attentively listening. There was complete silence.
During the attack, my body had been ripped apart. I was now defenseless and my body had been torn apart during the attack. Slowly, I moved my right arm from behind my head and reached under my chest for the pistol. I stayed in a position on the ground, only relying on the pistol for defense as the bear’s spray had gone flying during the chaos. I needed to protect my life. I feared that I would never survive a third attack.
The bear’s attack had left my body torn and the straps of my holster broken. The pistol and holster were lying ten feet away from my side. She was gone. With fear still lingering, I slowly raised my head to look around, worried that the bear might attack again. With hesitation and great concern, I carefully wiped the blood from each eye.
I believe I survived a double grizzly attack. I couldn’t move towards the trailhead again, so I quickly picked up my scattered gear and moved down the trail. I hoped she was gone by this time. Nervously looking around for the bear, I thumbed back the hammer and apparently dove with the bear.
The hemorrhaging was not life-threatening and I could endure the 45-minute trek to the truck, but a swift evaluation reassured me that blood was still oozing from my cranial injury and off both forearms, and my shirt was saturated with blood up to the waist and down into my trousers.
The security clasp was removed while holding the bear repellent in my right hand. The handgun was securely positioned between my arm and chest, for convenient availability if necessary. I kept my left arm close to my body to limit movement and avoid causing additional harm to the torn muscle, cut tendons, and damaged nerves and bone. In order to create distance between the bear and myself, I proceeded further along the trail.
At the truck, if necessary, I was capable of providing initial medical assistance. I didn’t concern myself with any wrapping, since the gradual pace of bleeding was still tolerable. I took two breaks to evaluate my injuries.
My second hand was oozing blood, and considering the amount of blood, the message would be unreadable. Regrettably, my wounded arm was ineffective. I made an effort to compose a cautionary message and attach it to the notice board at the beginning of the trail. It was just 8am, and I was anxious about the well-being of archers who might arrive for the weekend and venture into the identical vicinity. After forty-five minutes, I reached the trailhead and my automobile without harm.
I was on my way to inform them when he asked me to call the hospital, so I stopped alongside the road to speak with a rancher. After driving for about half an hour, I headed towards the hospital and town, and I placed some jackets over the seat of the truck to collect some of my blood. I quickly took a video of my wounds and snapped a couple of photos. I decided to take a few seconds to capture the moment to share with my hunting buddies. Now that I felt completely safe and relieved, I slowed down and reached my vehicle with the bleeding under control.
It was almost unattainable to raise that arm too, my left arm was ineffective and the profound laceration in the deltoid of my right shoulder, along with numerous puncture wounds to my bicep and triceps. I had to request the officer for aid in unlocking the door, shifting the truck into neutral, and releasing my seat belt. A physician, nurse, and deputy from the local sheriff’s department greeted me at the emergency entrance twenty minutes thereafter.
X-rays revealed a broken ulna bone in my forearm. It took six hours to stitch the closed wound, and the injuries on my upper back, shoulder, and arm were caused by the bear’s biting and puncturing. Fortunately, the bear’s canine teeth didn’t completely tear through the soft stomach tissue, and it only bit me. The four puncture holes in my right side, just above my hip, reminded me how lucky I was.
Additionally, a gruesome scar would mark the five-inch cut on the side of my head. Furthermore, my left arm and hand would require extensive use during the anticipated months of physical therapy. Moreover, multiple nerves had suffered damage. The tendons were reconnected and the torn muscles were repaired through a surgery on my forearm, which resulted in the severing of the tendons.
I am grateful to be here, alive, and able to share my story with all of you, but October 1, 2016 was not the best day of my life.