"Marked Trail"

" One of the most haunting experiences I have ever had as a man took place on an early summer day in Alaska. My family and I were sea kayaking with humpback whales in the Icy Strait, and were stopper on the shore of Chichagof Island for lunch. Our guide asked us if we wanted to go for a hike into the interior of the island, to a clearing where grizzlies were known to feed. we were all over that invitation. After a twenty mile walk through a spruce forest, we came to what appeared to be a broad, open meadow about four hundred yards across. Being middy, and hot, there were no bears to be seen. ' Their sleeping now, through the afternoon. They'll be back tonight,' he said. 'C'mere I want to show you something.'

The meadow was actually more of a bog, a low-lying jungle of brushy groundcover about two feet high, barely supported underneath by another foot of soaked moss and peat. A very difficult place to walk. Our guide led us to a trail of what seemed to be massive footprints, with a stride of about two feet between them, pressed down into the bog and making a path through it. 'Its a marked trail,' he said. A path created by the footprints of the bears. 'This one is probably centuries old. For as long as the bears have been on this island, they've taken this path. The cubs follow the elders putting their feet exactly where the older bears walk. That's how they learn to cross this place.'" - John Eldredge, The Way of the Wild Heart

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