Mountain Driving at Night

One very dark night I was driving my car from Banff, Alberta, and heading for Calgary. The old highway I was traveling on clung to the side of the mountain, with a steep drop off to my right and a cliff to my left. The road wound back and forth with many curves that did not allow any distractions.

There was no other traffic in the beginning, but eventually I was passed by a brand new 1955 Buick on one of the few straight sections of the road. I was driving a 1953 Hillman convertible which had trouble with the hills, but handled the mountain curves with ease.

As the miles passed, I would catch up with the other vehicle on the curves, but then fall back on the straight sections, which were few. Normally I do not like following another vehicle, but it was such a pitch black night I appreciated the lights of the car ahead, as he gave me warning of the direction of the curves.

The miles were sliding by, until we ran through a serious of sharp curves, during which I caught up. We then reached a straight section of the road which led down a slight hill.

Suddenly, with no warning, the tail lights of the other car came on, in what was obviously a panic stop. I immediately applied my brakes and the two cars skidded in unison down the highway. I can clearly remember seeing the smoke curling up from behind each of his rear tires as he was skidding. Almost at the same time, the Buick smashed into something on the road, and a short distance later, came to a full stop.

I managed to get my vehicle to stop with less than ten feet separating our vehicles, but I stalled the engine. The headlights on the Buick were knocked out and just the tail lights remained on.

I got out of my vehicle and as I walked forward, the other driver got out. I asked him what happened but he did not know what he had hit. All he saw was a dark object on the road just before he smashed into it. Steam from his broken radiator was leaking out in the cool night air and it was very difficult to see. The other driver was not injured but he was quite upset.

There were no towns or even homes in this area of the Bow River Valley, so it was pitch dark in every direction. As I had a flashlight in the car, I went back to get it, so we could check the damage.

When I came back with the flashlight, we examined the front of the car and found the entire front end smashed along with the hood and fenders. We found blood on the road and it led to the edge of the highway and then down into a steep ditch.

I suggested that he had hit an elk, since they were numerous in this area of the mountains. When I grabbed the flashlight I had also grabbed my service revolver, in case we had to put the injured elk out of its misery.

My flashlight was not very bright so we proceeded slowly, down into the steep deep ditch. Once we were safely down the slope I shone the light on the other side of this very dark ditch.

It took a second for it to sink in, just exactly what we were looking at in the puny beam of light. Standing upright with both front legs spread wide was the biggest black bear I had ever seen. Its mouth was open, its eyes were glaring and blood was dripping from the jaws.

In one motion, the two of us spun around and climbed out of that ditch with record breaking speed.
As we ran up onto the highway I took a quick look with the flashlight to see if it was following us. While still running, I saw the bear fall backwards on to the far side of the ditch bank and lay still.

It took a few moments for us to calm down and get our hearts beating at a somewhat normal rate. Then I slowly moved back around the front of the smashed car and checked out the location of the bear. By this time it was lying motionless on its back and the eyes were closed. We waited some moments to make sure it was not breathing before we checked it up close.

The bear had died from massive injuries, but had enough strength left to stand up as we jumped down into the ditch. It was probably as frightened as we were in the last seconds of its life.

We left the Buick with the tail lights on and set out some warning reflectors before I drove the owner to the next town where he could hire a tow truck. I continued on to Calgary and was quite wide awake for the rest of the trip.

The next morning on my way back to Banff, I stopped at the scene, but everything had been cleaned up, including the bear. I found out later that some local Indians had removed the bear and made use of the bear meat, and in particular the bear claws.

Trail Companion

This is Mya, a ten year old Norwegian Elkhound and my snowshoe partner.

She is the last of eleven Elkhounds I have owned during the last 35 years.

She has never been tied up or even owned a collar. She is fearless and will stand her ground when faced with just about anything, She weighs close to a hundred pounds and is far too heavy and awkward to pickup and place on a scale.

 For all of her impressive appearance, she loves children who visit and stands at the perfect height to lick their face and produce many a giggle.

I could write a hundred stories of my experiences with Norwegian Elkhounds, but they have taught me more than I have ever taught them.

This is an outdoor dog that loves winter but loves to sleep on a bed when no one is looking. She is welcome in the kitchen and spends a great deal of time sleeping on top of the big wood box lid, near the kitchen fireplace. This is a perfect spot to see what is going on in the house as well as keep an eye on the outdoors through the kitchen window.

She was raised with her sister Tillie, from the time they could first walk, to all the outdoor sounds and activities.
Before they were a year old they could howl back as perfect mimics to the family of coyotes that were raised in a den nearby.

The coyote parents learned to make a wide loop around our property because a single howl on their part usually produced a loud concert of replies from three to five Elkhounds in our woods. Many a cold winter night, with the sky filled with countless stars, I have stood transfixed by the coyotes and the Elkhounds howling back and forth to each other. I understands a coyote howls for many reasons but mainly to establish his territory with other coyotes. I think my dogs understood and at the same time made it clear what territory was theirs.

The Elkhounds were so good at producing a coyote’s long drawn out howl that I felt as if I were standing with my own coyotes.

Two full grown Elkhounds fighting will make a brave man step back.  It rarely happened with our crew but it was an event to be remembered. I could step into the fray and break them up with a yell and a push and was never bitten, but then they always knew I was in charge.

I intend to use the Nor’ west Scribe Blog to record many of the experiences I shared with these loyal companions.