The peaks of the mountains were lost in the heavy clouds. Evergreens faded away into the wet blanket above us as we pulled up to the famous Cameron Falls. No trip to Waterton is complete without making a stop at this historic waterfall, but, unbeknownst to me, this visit would be different.
We found a parking spot and piled out of the car. I was one of the first out of the vehicle and watched as everyone else made it out. My mind transformed our car into an old green MINI Cooper and everyone in it to clumsy circus clowns. I think we could have had a pretty phenomenal act.
Anyways, we all got free and made our way to the other half of our group who were waiting for us at the falls, but with each step forward I became more and more on edge – something wasn’t right. Usually this area is packed with people right up by the fence taking pictures and admiring the slanted waterfall. Today everyone was on the opposite side of the road, a good 100 meters away from the fence, looking up at the water in almost complete silence. Two Park Rangers’ trucks were parked, flashing their lights and acting a barriers between the quite crowds and roaring water. I slowed, tensely scanning the trees. What was going on?
I saw the rangers first. There were three of them in their khaki shirts, one on the far side of the bridge and two on my side. Then I saw it. A bear cub. The girls in the crowd let out a collective, “AWWWW!” as it ran across the bridge and into the trees with the rangers following closely behind.