NO MAN'S LAND

In a remote corner of Montana, hikers and activists clash over the future of a grizzly bear population hanging on for dear life.

- ELISABETH KWAK-HEFFERAN

THEY SAW THE FIRST sign of bears near dusk, on the way up to their campsite on the broad slope of Davis Mountain in northwest Montana. Levi “Rocks” Mason spotted the track, a five-toed, long-clawed imprint in the garden-rich soil of the trail, dwarfing the span of his hand. A little farther on, when he and his girlfriend, Cara Foley, found a clearing flat enough to pitch their tent in the wildflower-dotted slopes below the 6,000foot summit, they also noticed flipped-over rocks, furrowed dirt, and sizable piles of scat, unmistakable signs of grizzly bears.

The pair considered their options. It was nearly dark, the end of a 23-mile day on the Pacific Northwest Trail through the Yaak Valley. Neither wanted to hike on into the uncertain twilight. So they put up the tent, retreated several hundred yards to an overlook to cook dinner and hang food in Ursacks, like always, then crawled into their bags back at camp.

Mason wasn’t exactly surprised to see evidence of grizzlies in the Yaak. In fact, when prepping for his 2019 thru-hike, he’d heard a podcast about how a local group was fighting to reroute the PNT out of the region because of concern about hikers’ impact on the bears here. Mason had even considered leaving the official trail and hiking around the Yaak. “I love wildlife, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize wild bears,” he says. When he reached the area, however, he decided that his and Foley’s presence would barely register against the logging activity and ATV trails they saw around them. They pressed on, following the trail.