David explains that he had been able to make out two forms moving on the other side of the creek. He had fired shot over their heads and they disappeared. He knew that the Ulgatcho people were gathered at Tanya Lake, 16 kilometres down the valley, for their annual fishing and that probably they had pushed the bears away from the animals' fishing. So it wasn't a pterodactyl, after all, or even a cougar. In David's considered experience that incredible sound had probably come from a grizzly cub.

It's decided an all-night vigil is needed, and the wranglers agree on turns. David encourages the rest of us to get some sleep. The rest of the night passes, blessedly quiet.

It had just been that morning that I had flown in from Bella Coola with Rob Skelly of Vancouver Island Helicopters to join the 10-day trail ride during its final three days. The flight had afforded me an eagle's eye view of the Rainbow Mountains and the Beef Trail Valley through which the horsemen had already travelled. The Rainbow Range, a prominent feature of Tweedsmuir Park, is the remnant of major shield volcanoes that were glaciated in the last ice age. Its 2,500-metre-high peaks stand above the surrounding plateau. Its rock bluffs and scree slopes show an astonishing palette of reds, oranges, yellows, and lavenders.

In that great expanse of country we had spotted the smoke from the campfire. As we descended into the Mackenzie Valley I counted 29 horses grazing in the emerald green meadow adjacent to camp.

I had arrived just in time for breakfast and marvelled at the wonderful contraption Joyce was cooking on. A heavy mesh screen was slung with chain from an iron rod and supported by two adjustable poles allowing the rate of cooking to be expertly controlled. This is not unimportant when one is cooking for 16 people twice a day over a campfire in the mountains.

David and Joyce introduced me to their company of wranglers, numbering five, and their customers, eight of whom are from Vancouver and two from Bella Coola. Testimonies were enthusiastically given for the gourmet fare served over the previous seven days. By all accounts, too, the trip so far had been thoroughly relished.

As these dishes were being done and lunches being made, Wanda's 12-year-old daughter, "Punky", was bringing horses in to be saddled. I commented that it looked as if she had been born on a horse. "Almost," said Punky. "Mom brought me home on a horse."

A few of the folks planned a lazy day in camp. The rest of us rode north up the valley turning east and climbing for an hour until we were above treeline. The landscape opened and we came upon Crystal Lake. We spent the afternoon contemplating this wondrous country, bird watching, and hoping to see some of the caribou that graze in this part of the park. From around the lakeshore we gathered a fantastic collection of rocks, some enclosing intricate quartz patterns that dazzled in the sun.

Photography and Text © Gary Fiegehen

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