A friend in need is a friend indeed

Dale Johnson and his girlfriend, Rhonda Anderson, were hiking along a narrow trail leading to Trout Lake in Montana’s Glacier National Park. It was early afternoon last October, with shafts of sunlight streaming through the trees, and Dale, 31, led an unhurried pace.

Not far now, he encouraged Rhonda, 27, who was a step behind. A trim pretty woman in T-shirt and sports, she wore a pink bandanna over her light-brown hair. Her beaded earrings were a gift from her lean, dark-bearded companion. The couple had been chatting back and forth, their voices ringing through the silent woods, but now, in tune with the hushed tranquility around them, they had grown silent. As they approached a bend in the trail, Dale stiffened. He caught a movement in the bush ahead, and in the same instant he heard a guttural growl. To his horror, two bears, cinnamon brown, came snorting straight at him. His heart pounded. Grizzlies!

From the corner of his eye, Dale saw Rhonda jump behind a tree. But he stood rooted, frozen with fright. The bears were in full charge, their fur rippling in fury. Don’t run! Was Dale’s one thought. To grizzly, a runner is prey, and the bear will give chase at speeds no man can match. Dale’s mind seized upon a desperate ploy. Make yourself bigger. Bluff them. Leaping, yelling, waving his arms, he confronted the charging bears. Immediately, one veered off into the woods, but the other – 400 pounds of

unrestrainable savagery – bore down upon him.

Snatching a stick as long as a broom handle and as thick as his wrist. Dale brought it down on the bear’s skull. At the same time he let out an unearthly scream. When the club shattered, dale rolled to the ground and curled into a ball. Park rangers always advise people to assume a cannonball position if attacked. It is suppose to indicate to the bear it is not under threat. Face in the dirt, Dale wiggled his backpack higher. You have got to protect your neck. He felt the sharp rake of claws across his back. Suddenly all sensation was lost in the sound of his screams. Only Rhonda, watching from behind the tree, would remember the terrible moments that followed.

It is a seven-mile round trip to lake, Dale had said when they parked their station wagon and set off about an hour earlier. A sign at the trail head warned that they were entering bear country. But being from nearby town of Whitefish, Rhonda and Dale were well aware that the park was home to black and grizzly bears, and they were ever watchful.

Noise was the best protection against a surprise meeting with a dangerous grizzly. Usually Dale wore a small bell on his pack for added security, but he had forgotten in this day. Rhonda noted the time, 1 p.m., and remembered that bear were mostly spotted in the early morning or late afternoon. They’ll all be sleeping at this hour, she thought. At any rate Dale and Rhonda knew that bears preferred to keep their distance. It was

rare for a grizzly to make an unprovoked attack. When Rhonda saw the grizzlies, her instinct was to climb a tree. In panic, she grabbed for branch, but there wasn’t one within reach. Paralyzed with terror, she saw the bear claw Dale’s shoulders, then close its great jaws over his left arm, wrenching it from side to side, biting though muscle and bone. In anguish, she thought, he’s being killed! Do something!

An image crossed her mind: her neighbor’s fierce Labrador. Once he had come snarling at her when she was taking out garbage. She had grabbed the metal can and held it in front of her, fending off the animal. Don’t, Buster, don’t. At the command in her voice, the dog had backed away. Shucking her backpack, she held it out as a shield. Advancing on the hulking grizzly, she cried, Bear! Go away!

Startled, the giant dropped Dale’s arm and looked around. With lightning speed, it charged Rhonda. She reeled back. In a blur, she saw the grizzly’s lips pulled back over huge teeth and four inch claws the color of amber. The teeth sank into her pack, and claws slashed her right wrist. Blood spurted from the wound as she fell to her knees and screamed. Hearing Rhonda’s cries, Dale came out of his daze just in time to see woman and bear, face to face, inches apart. Bear! Bear! He shouted, determined to lure the grizzly away from Rhonda. The attacker’s head snapped around. With a rush, it turned once again on Dale. Get down, he yelled at Rhonda. We have defense, he thought. We have to play dead!

An instant later Dale was in the air, being shaken violently, the bear’s jaws locked on his buttocks. Claws swiped at his shoulders. Flooding adrenalin had numbed him to pain, but Dale knew his body was being savaged. If he doesn’t stop, it is all over for me.

Rhonda had heard Dale’s cry to get down, but she could not abandon him. Grabbing her tattered pack, she advanced once more, yelling for the grizzly’s attention. This time the bear attacked on its hind legs. Towering over her, its jaws on her upper left arm, teeth crunching hard to the bone. Somehow Rhonda kept her feet, toe to toe with the bear, not conscious of pain, but of rising fury. Setting her jaw, she pounded a fist into the animal’s stomach. In an instant she was flung to the ground. Rhonda expected jaws to close on her, but the grizzly dropped to all fours and loped off into the trees. Dale struggled upon from the ground. His left arm was crushed at the elbow, the forearm laid open to the bone. From the feel of his buttocks, he knew the bear had bitten out a chunk of flesh. Rhonda managed to remove the sweat shirt tied about her waist and bandage her wrist. Her neck and shoulder wounds oozed blood. I am sorry I dragged you into this nightmare, Dale said. He vowed to himself that her life would not end in misery on a trail in the woods. Hooking her pack over her undamaged right shoulder, Rhonda led off down the trail. She didn’t ck for confidence. Form motel maid and fast food waitress, she had moved on to a good job as an examiner in a real-estate-title office.

Now her concern was for Dale. His wounds were deep, and they had to walk three miles. But she didn't question his determination.

In ten years, Dale had obtained a degree in electronics from a small college in his native Oregon into a position as co-owner of a company that specialized in computerized aerial photography. Seeking out a spot where they could couple business with sporting life-style, he and his partners moved the firm to Montana’s Flathead Valley. Walking behind Rhonda, Dale kept shouting to spook any bears that might still be nearby. The pain in his arm intensified. He felt lightheaded, and realized that surrender to shock would be the end. As a veteran hiker and climber, he knew that he was at the edge of his limits. Then Rhonda saw the creek she remembered was near the trail head. Her watch read 2:32 p.m. -- 32 minutes since the attack – when they reached their station wagon. We made it this far, said Dale, his voice labored. The next part can’t be as hard. But his face was creased with pain, and Rhonda knew she had to take over. Tugging the keys from her pack, she unlocked the door and eased behind the wheel. I think I can drive, she said. Rhonda had no strength in her left arm to hold the wheel while shifting with right, so Dale changed gears as Rhonda worked the clutch. Crouched dizzily at the wheel, she tried not to run off the road.

After several miles, they came to Lake McDonald Lodge. It was closed for the season, but Dale spotted a pay phone and shouted for the Rhonda

to swing into the driveway. Mercifully, there was a dial tone, then a 911 operator on the line. We need help, he said hoarsely. We have been mauled by a bear. The operator took down the location and notified Glacier Park headquarters. Ranger Charlie Logan reached the lodge within minutes, and a highway patrol car soon delivered a nurse, who set up intravenous lines. By 3:30 p.m., the battered hikers were beginning their ambulance ride to Kalispell Regional Hospital. Dale and Rhonda spend eight days n the hospital, and each had three operations. In addition to wounds on his back and buttocks, the elbow of Dale’s left arm was fractured, and the bear had broken of an inch long knob of bone. Doctors performed a fourth operation later to repair the elbow damage. Rhonda’s left biceps muscle was completely severed – and bear-tooth fragments were lodged in the bone of the upper arm. The claw that cut into her neck missed the jugular by a quarter-inch. On their third night in the hospital, Rhonda sat at Dale’s bedside and told him how she had attempted to drive off the grizzly with her backpack. I thought you were being killed, and I had to do something. I didn’t know that’s why the bear left me, Dale said, his voice growing husky. You save me life.

As part of the healing, Rhonda went home to her two-room cabin. She put a video documentary about life in the North Country that she loved so much and let her cat curl up on her lap. Before the grizzly attack, Rhonda had not really comprehended how dangerous such an attack could be. But

the event had confronted her with her own vulnerability, and impressed upon her how much we need the closeness of family and friends – and to be there for them when need us.

With her left arm in a cap. Rhonda fund even the easiest her chores difficult. One day she was trying to braid her long hair with fumbling fingers when the telephone rang. It was Dale. There was a new dimension to their relationship now. If love was built on respect, they knew they had a solid foundation.

I can’t even braid my own hair, she said brusquely. I think I’ll cut it all off. There was a pause, then he said, come on over. I’ll make you dinner. When Rhonda arrived, Dale sat her down gently and began braiding her hair. It was, she thought, the sweetest gesture she had ever known.