Northern Saskatchewan, Canada – What began as a father-son bear hunt deep in the remote Canadian
wilderness turned into a powerful story of survival, connection, and once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
In May, my father and I set off on a journey that would take us 27 hours north by car and then deeper still by
floatplane into the untamed backcountry of Saskatchewan. For a week, we stayed in a 130-year-old fur
trading cabin-full of history, mice, and character-with no power, no running water, and plenty of wild company,
including a black bear that visited nightly.
My father raised me in the outdoors, teaching me how to hunt, fish, and respect nature. It’s a passion I’ve
nurtured ever since, both in practice and behind the lens-capturing these wild, fleeting moments through
photography and video. But nothing could have prepared me for the drama and beauty that unfolded on this
trip.
Every morning we fished for walleye before heading out to our stands-some more than 10 miles apart-alone
in the vast wilderness. On day one, my peaceful afternoon in the stand turned suddenly ominous. The skies
darkened, rolling with smoke. A wildfire, later revealed to be human-caused, had broken out about 50 miles
away. It was one of 14 out of 17 wildfires in Canada last year started by people.
Despite the looming threat, we remained in the woods. Hunting continued, bears appeared, and each day
brought new stories. I’d seen a number of young black bears-lean and lanky, more curious than
threatening-but my guide assured me, “You’ll know when you see a big one. They’re worth the wait.”
He was right.
On the third day, while eating an MRE lunch and-admittedly, not wisely-smearing peanut butter in the tree
above me, I unintentionally attracted a smaller bear who stuck around long enough to become an unexpected
ally. While watching him, I spotted movement far down the rapids. A massive figure emerged-the bear. Even
from 600 yards away, its size was staggering.
As the bear swam across the stream and moved in my direction, it vanished into the woods. The sound of the
rapids made it impossible to hear his approach, but my little companion acted like a compass, pointing me
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Black Bear and Wildfire: An Adventure Beyond the Trail
toward the giant’s movement. Once the big bear was about 150 yards out, the smaller one bolted, leaving me
alone with a peanut butter-scented tree and an approaching behemoth.
At 15 feet, the massive black bear stopped to rub against a tree, giving me the perfect opportunity. My shot
hit every vital organ, but even then, the bear-built like a tank-charged, bumped my stand, and climbed a
nearby hill before taking his final breath.
Fifteen minutes later, my father and our guide arrived. Their jaws dropped. The guide, who had hunted the
area for years, said it was one of the largest bears seen there in more than 15 years.
But the day wasn’t done.
As my guide and I returned the meat and hide to the main camp, I joked to my dad, “I hope you get a bear-as
long as it’s not bigger than mine.” Of course, fate had other plans.
Exactly five hours later, just as we motored back to his stand, a thunderous shot rang out. We ducked
instinctively, thinking we were under fire. But it was my dad, harvesting a bear of his own-just as massive, if
not bigger than mine. The wilderness had given us each a trophy, just hours apart.
The rest of the week was filled with fishing, campfires, and reflection. But as we prepared to leave, the fires
became impossible to ignore. Ash fell from the sky like snow. The only road out of the nearest town was
threatened by flames and closed to regular traffic. Hotels were packed with evacuees. With no guarantee of
safety, we took a gamble-navigating an unmarked network of dirt roads shared by other desperate travelers.
For two hours, we outpaced the fires, racing down gravel paths with towns being evacuated around us. We
finally broke through to a larger town and safety. Less than 24 hours later, the hotel we stayed in-and the
town itself-was burned to the ground.
It wasn’t until I returned home and sat with my wife, reliving the journey, that I truly understood the magnitude
of our luck. We were alive, unharmed, and bonded tighter than ever by an experience no one could script.
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Black Bear and Wildfire: An Adventure Beyond the Trail
This trip reminded me how fragile and precious life is-and how wild places have the power to strip us down
and build us back up again. It reminded me to be grateful-for family, for safety, and for the simple beauty of
this world.
Take a moment. Step outside. Breathe it in. That’s what it means to be alive.
- Charles P Horan
About the Author
