Missezula Lake – Karen's New York Love Affair

Wild women run with bears

The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears. (The worst thing is the cell reception, but I won’t go into that now.) It has not happened often that I’ve had the chance to run with bears here—only a few times in nine years—but it happened today.

I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!

This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!

I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!

At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.

On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!

I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.

But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.

I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!

When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.

Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.

We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.

There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.

Bandit: more about the dog from Missezula Lake

A while back I told you the story of the New Year’s Eve visitor who resembled a wolf, and scared my friend Dorrie as she was sitting on the porch one evening. I recently went through some boxes and found a picture of the dog, and a thank-you card from his owners.

The dog’s name is Bandit. His people are named Chuck and Pat Krastel, and they all live in the community at the east end of Missezula Lake. Bandit is a favourite friend in the community, welcome at many homes. When he was missing, lots of his friends called Chuck and Pat to ask if they’d found him yet. He also has some kitty friends, Dancer (shown here), and Chico. It’s amazing how the feline and canine species can get along!

Missezula Lake is about a mile south of Monkey Valley. Shrimpton Creek flows down into the lake, and I’ve followed the creek down to the lake a few times with friends. The way is tangled with fallen trees in places, but it’s a fun outing to hike down to the lake for a skinny dip!

There’s a campground at the west end of the lake, and a few fishing cabins along the north shore, and then the Missezula Lake community over at the east end. It’s a popular community, fully serviced, with year-round residences and cottages.

Bandit doesn’t really look like a wolf, but remember it was dark when we first saw him. He was an emissary of love, who still reveals to me that part of my heart that is longing for the universe to bring me someone to love. Someone black and white and furry!

Is that a wolf?

Cowboys, dogs, and dirtbikers: visitors to Monkey Valley

You might be noticing that all of these invaders of my privacy are men. Men who break the law and ignore the postings I have put up every 20 to 50 meters around the perimeter of the property. But one time there was a non-human male visitor, and he was so sweet!

I had some friends up for New Year’s Eve a few winters ago. One night after dinner my friend Dorrie was sitting on the porch, legs dangling into space, looking out at the night. I was inside supervising Keith and Marvin while they did the dishes. Suddenly I heard a faint warbled “Help!” I heard it again: “Help!”

I ran to the door and opened it a crack, and a very large creature was standing there looking at me. “Are you a wolf?” I asked. It was greyish, and big, but the tail was wagging a little. The soul of the animal did not feel harmful, but at the same time I didn’t know this creature, it might be a wolf, and Dorrie was scared!

I chased the animal off the porch, and Dorrie came inside. We all talked about what had happened, and looked outside, but the animal was gone. Not for long though. The next day he was back. He turned out to be a very large friendly dog.

I fed him some cat food and vegetarian scraps, which he ate. He had a very thick coat, and seemed okay with staying outside. Over the next few days I became very fond of this sweet fellow. I wondered if the universe was sending me a present for the new year, a new family member. Although I hadn’t had any intention of getting a dog, I was turning over the possibility of keeping him.

However, I also thought I’d better try to find the owner. I called both vets in Merritt, and they suggested I also contact the Humane Society in Princeton. I did, and soon I got a phone call from the dog’s human family, very happy to find their dog was still alive.

It turned out that he lived in the community at the east end of Missezula Lake. On New Year’s Eve there were a lot of fireworks, and he got scared and ran away. Somehow he found his way to my land, and came to the house. He obviously trusted people, and I learned that he was friends with all the people in his community.

Perhaps this is the lesson this beautiful soul brought into my life. That people can be trusted, and will help when we are lost and alone in the cold.