I remember it was July and Mount Rainier was in the height of visitor season. From Longmire all the way up to Paradise, the park was teeming with people. The snow had receded up the mountain to reveal all the upper hiking trails and making it easier for climbers to navigate their way to the top. The visitor center at Paradise was buzzing with activity and across the way the Paradise Inn with its majestic old growth beams and tall narrow roof was completely booked for the weekend.

I pulled the government sedan into a “reserved for employees” parking spot tucked behind the Visitor Center. The parking lot was completely full and Law Enforcement Rangers were directing people down to the lower lot to park. My windows were down and the smell of fresh mountain air and hot dogs wafted into the car. I sighed inwardly to myself before grabbing my backpack and opening the door.

I’d worked for Mount Rainier National Park for three years doing Northern Spotted Owl surveys for the Wildlife Crew. This year however, was very different. I was chosen to create a program to address the issues in the park regarding wildlife. As in all National Parks, the wilderness is preserved within the boundaries of the park, however when people enter, they bring with them ideas and cultural attitudes that at times can conflict with this idea of wilderness. At Mount Rainier, things had gotten to the point where funding had been set aside to deal with these conflicts.

I placed my pack on the ground and began to rifle through it. I noticed with slight embarrassment that my hands were shaking. I wasn’t sure if it was because of fear or excitement, maybe both. I pulled out the odd contraption that was supposed to be a sling shot. It contradicted the pictures I had in my head from movies and cartoon strips. This device was made of a formable black plastic, with extra hinges and knobs that I had no idea how to use. I was scheduled to go to the shooting range with the Chief Law Enforcement Ranger next week to learn how to shoot rubber bullets with a real gun. For now I had been (in my opinion) irresponsibly armed with a contraption resembling a sling shot with no instruction booklet and a large bottle of bear spray. I decided to go with the spray.

I was responding to a report from a ranger that a bear was hanging around the back of the Paradise Inn where the commercial sized dumpster sat. This was a favorite hangout spot for the kitchen staff to take their breaks and eat their lunches. One of these employees had experienced a very uncomfortable, up close visit from a bear less than 30 minutes prior. I had been immediately called via radio to come deal with the situation.

I strapped my pack on and headed uphill toward the Paradise Inn. I can still see my shadow, on the asphalt as I walked; the sun bright in the clear sky.  I was wearing the park’s green and grey ranger uniform with my gold badge pinned prominently on my upper right chest.  I am sure I looked very professional yet I felt like a fraud. Wildlife crew members don’t get uniforms. There is no funding for it and besides we are not in direct contact with visitors, we are usually hiking around in the back-country doing surveys. However, my new position required lots of direct contact with people and so I had been given a uniform, just like the Law Enforcement Rangers and the Interpretive Rangers.

I walked passed the front of the Inn where people milled around in hiking shorts and sandals. It never ceased to amaze me how unprepared visitors were. We often heard reports over the park radio of medical teams being called up the Paradise trails where foolish visitors, with no water and poor choice in footwear were unable to make it back down to their cars. This cluelessness of wilderness was one of the many reasons I had my job.

Around the side of the Inn the asphalt gave way to gravel alongside the edge of a sharp upward slope covered in sub-alpine flowers. A young Asian kid barely eighteen was sitting nervously on a picnic table alongside the building waiting for me. As I approached he jumped to his feet and I remember noticing how tanned he looked from hours spent on the mountain. He repeated the story I already had heard over the radio. The only new information I did extract, involved the fact he was eating his lunch when the bear approached him. I then pointed to a large garbage bag sitting in the sun beside the back door to the kitchen.  Yes, it was garbage. Yes, he knew it wasn’t supposed to be there. No, he didn’t realize the smell from the bag would tempt the bears.

After watching the boy place the bag into the dumpster and crank back down the lid firmly, I left him with clear instructions to inform the staff I would be back another day to teach them bear etiquette. The boy had pointed toward the far end of the Inn, where the outdoor porch was for visitors to relax, eat and enjoy the Mountain scenery. I pulled the bottle of bear spray from my pack and held it up to read the back. Bear spray, according to the information sheet I had been given was a “sophisticated delivery method utilized to create an atomized blast which produces a pepper cloud slow to dissipate. More effective than foam, stream or cone sprays. The bottle will distribute a large amount of high pressure spray into the target area, requiring less accuracy than other methods”.

On the bottle the instructions read as follows:

• aim toward the approaching bear; adjust angle for downward wind direction
• steady your arm and depress trigger with thumb
• deploy in 2 – 3 second bursts when the bear is 30 feet away;
• aim the spray slightly above his head as gravity will effect the placement of the spray
• try not to use the entire contents as more than one application may be needed.

A safety warning at the bottom read:  “persons contaminated with bear spray will experience the mucous membranes of the eyes, nose and lungs to swell and be irritated. The eyes will involuntarily close and tear, the nose will run profusely, coughing will result. It may take up to 15 – 20 minutes before relief from the symptoms are felt. If the symptoms persist seek medical attention”.

This was surely going to teach any old bear who was really boss in this park I thought.  I plucked the safety tab from the nozzle and creeped toward the end of the building. I could hear the chatter of visitors on the porch; laughter, kids squealing, silverware clinking on plates. Since I didn’t hear any screaming I knew the bear was not on the porch. Unfortunately where the porch ended the meadow started. Large bushes and a few trees flanked the beginning of the meadow, tall enough to block  an old employee only  dirt road that headed off down below the parking lot. As I reached the road I could make out distinct bear prints in the dust.

Joe, one of the volunteers for the Wildlife Crew once said to me “the best action to take around a bear is to go in the other direction”.  The memory of him telling me this came back to me as I stood there looking at the bear tracks. My job at the park was to teach people how to be safe around wildlife, and to teach wildlife to stay away from people. To do this I had to go against everything I was teaching!

My love of wildlife is deeply rooted in my childhood. I’ve admired nature and all its creatures big and small, ferocious and docile. As a veterinarian technician I have wrestled rottweilers and as a wildlife rehabber I’ve caught bald eagles the size of a 3 year old child.  I’ve stalked around the back country at night hooting for owls when cougars are active and I’ve been up close and personal with captive wolves, through all my experiences I have never been truly scared. Standing there alone with my bear spray, aimed and ready, I found myself feeling for the first time a slight sense of distress.