Where the Wild Things Are

Nineteen of us in the bus en route to Denali Park’s Wonder Lake fell silent as a grizzly sow popped up over a knoll, two cubs in tow. Our bus eased to a stop as they ambled closer to the road, putting them almost within arm’s reach. The sow flopped to the ground, rolled over, allowing her cubs to crawl onto her belly. In our absolute stillness we heard their suckling sounds.

One decade later, sitting in a sleek dory, The Yampa, we rounded what had to have been bend #473 in the Colorado River, when long-time O.A.R.S. Grand Canyon guide, Bronco, stated matter-of-factly, “Keep your eye out on the cliffs on the left, about a third of the way up. Bighorn like to hang out there.” He spotted them immediately and directed our untrained eyes to the small collection of nearly invisible sheep.

In a recent article titled, Why We Travel, Jonah Lehrer suggests, “We travel because we need to, because distance and difference are the secret tonic of creativity. When we get home, home is still the same. But something in our mind has been changed, and that changes everything. Several new science papers suggest that getting away is an essential habit of effective thinking. When we escape from the place we spend most of our time, the mind is suddenly made aware of all those errant ideas we’d previously suppressed. We start thinking about obscure possibilities—that never would have occurred to us if we’d stayed home.”

Experiencing wildlife on their turf, dropping a notch on the food chain, feeling the hair rise on the back of my neck when a bear bluff charges—all these experiences remind me to reprioritize. Stepping out from behind my desk, into the wilderness, restores balance. The bills will get paid. I will fall asleep despite the neighbor’s barking dogs. That magazine editor will get back to me… eventually. The pressure of replying to those seemingly endless pending email messages dissipates as I watch graceful movements of a wild animal.

I’ve bobbed with Blue-Footed Boobies and snorkeled with dozens of sea turtles, penguins, sharks and rays in the Galápagos Islands. I’ve seen grizzlies and black bears peacefully coexist on the banks of a British Columbia river, fat and sluggish from an abundant late season salmon run. I‘m planning a trip to Canadian Arctic to witness the largest migration of mammals in North America—the Porcupine Caribou herd—on a Firth River expedition. After having recently interviewed O.A.R.S. traveler Janet Walker, I know I’d also like to return to Peru to experience the Tambopata River and the world’s largest clay lick—possibly even spot a jaguar!

Have you envisioned whale watching in the warm waters of Baja or spotting whales from your sea kayak in British Columbia’s misty fog? Wouldn’t you like to stand on an Alaskan glacier and search for mountain goats, bighorn sheep, grizzly or black bear? Would you like to introduce your family to wildlife with experienced guides who will share their vast knowledge of local wildlife habits, the area’s history and lore—and who will keep your children engaged?

What are your wildlife viewing dreams?

Written by Tracy

Writer, Photographer, former Waterblogged Editor