Bear Market

One-stop shopping for Blue-Line bruins

by Lynn Sheldon

 

There are times when our very presence in the woods and on the waters alerts the hungry that another free lunch is about to be delivered. Chipmunks, red squirrels, raccoons, pine martens and especially black bears have learned, with keen insight and through creative experimentation, that ripstop packs can indeed be torn, that anchored canoes can be hauled ashore, that high-flying caches can be grounded, and puncture-proof vaults can be broached by a clever creature.

 

Long before Yogi stole his first pic-a-nic basket, an escalating war over granola bars and instant oatmeal has raged. (To the victor goes the breakfast.) Every summer some Adirondack location has a problem with bears, or rather, with the bear-human interface. Take a peek at any backcountry lean-to logbook and you’ll find frustration: “Unfortunately we’re hiking out tomorrow, as we no longer have food for seven days”; encouragement: “Bears are smart, but we outfoxed them”; and plenty of detailed diagrams for smarter-than-your-average-bear food storage systems.

 

For decades backpackers have deployed a variety of devices to ensure their meals are secure—suspending bags with lines, pulleys and complex knots that make end-stage cat’s cradle seem simple. But reality bites through poly rope and can bring down any aerial scheme, as countless campers have discovered.

 

The easiest way to keep prying paws out of your stash, according to Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) wildlife biologist Ed Reed, is to use a well-designed container. “We encourage people to use canisters everywhere in the Adirondacks,” he says.

 

Everywhere, but especially in the High Peaks. The region around Marcy Dam, Henderson Lake and Johns Brook—a corridor loaded with hikers and campers—has proven to be black bear paradise. So much so, in fact, that the area has become a test lab for ursine-resistant kegs.

 

Once bear canisters became mandatory in the High Peaks Wilderness Area, in 2005, reports of negative bear encounters dropped “dramatically,” says Reed. Outfitters carry high-impact food safes—like Backpackers’ Cache, $65, with room for six days of food for one person; or Bare Boxer Contender, $40, holding three days of supplies—though it turns out there’s no ironclad guarantee that animals can’t open them. Yellow-Yellow, a 14-year-old sow bear, has demonstrated such skill in turning plastic tubes into lunch pails that her artistry has become a valuable research-and-development tool.

 

Starting in 2006 a particular brand of barrels, BearVault, began to fail in the eastern High Peaks. The line is popular among hikers because it’s lightweight—two pounds, nine ounces or less—transparent, and can be opened without an implement, whereas others require a coin or screwdriver. But our bruins, particularly a shy female sporting a yellow identification tag in each ear, beat it.  

 

The San Diego company, which offers four- and seven-day-capacity tubs priced from $60, quickly retooled. In 2008 a two-tab system was introduced (to open this new version both tabs must be de­pressed), minus a decal that had marked the lock. The redesign flummoxed other bears—including tough-guy grizzlies out West—but not Yellow-Yellow. She made short work of the BearVault, earning enough notoriety to be profiled in newspapers and blogs across the country. “It didn’t fool her for a minute,” says Jamie Hogan, who, with his wife, Cindy, owns BearVault.

 

In an article last July, The New York Times gushed that the now-infamous bear “managed to systematically decipher a complex locking system that confounds even some campers.” But Yellow-Yellow’s ingenuity may be a bit exaggerated, says Reed. “She bites into the area where the tabs are and pries up with her teeth,” he explains. “I don’t think she knows to push [the tabs] down. She just knows the weak points to attack and pries up until the lid pops off. It’s more brute force than anything.”

 

Regardless, it’s possible that other animals will follow her lead—“I don’t know if she’s holding seminars or what,” jokes Reed—and so High Peaks hikers are cautioned against using the brand. At least for now.

 

This June Hogan expects to test a new line of BearVaults around Lake Colden and Marcy Dam. Although he’s keeping details close to the vest, he promises the next generation will continue to be one of the lightest on the market.

 

BEAR NECESSITIES

Whether you’re using a state-of-the-art polycarbonate cylinder in the High Peaks, metal bear lockers like those at the DEC’s Forked Lake campground or counterbalanced bags strung 15 feet off the ground, always take basic precautions, says Reed—they might protect your Pop-Tarts, and may even save a bear’s life. Last year two “nuisance” bears were killed within the Blue Line by DEC officers, and another was shot by a startled camper near Marcy Dam. Reed offers these tips:

 

—Cook as early in the evening as possible, at least 100 feet from your tent or lean-to; have cleanup done before 7 p.m.

—Don’t wear the same clothes you cook in as pajamas.

—Store a bear canister on the ground at least 100 feet away from sleeping quarters; remove the can from its carrying case, as the straps may allow a midnight prowler to drag the whole kit away.

—If a bear does approach, wave your arms and make a ruckus to scare it off.

 

Bear-proof canisters can be rented from Eastern Mountain Sports, in Lake Placid (518-523-2505), the Mountaineer, in Keene Valley (518-576-2281), Mountainman Outdoor Supply Company, in Old Forge (315-369-2300), or the Adirondack Mountain Club’s High Peaks Information Center, in Lake Placid (518-523-3441). Prices range from about $3 to $10 a night.