A few days before arriving in Teslin, 178 kilometres from Whitehorse, we were awakened by the horses trying to run off from the high line.

“What was that?” Clara cried out from beneath the covers.

“I’m not sure, the horses are scared of something,” I said, shining my headlamp at my frightened ponies, the darkness eerie after so many days of complete sunlight.

Everything went still. I could hear my heart pounding inside my chest. The horses, wide-eyed and with their ears pitched forward, looked off into the dark forest in front of them periodically blowing air out of their nostrils. 

All of a sudden the silence was broken by twigs breaking. A few seconds passed before more cracked, making Mac and Smokey more agitated. Luckily, the high line stayed fastened to the two willows I tied it to and the horses got turned around.

“There’s something walking around out there. I think it’s a moose,” I told Clara, whose eyes were now wider than the ponies.

I lied. I knew it was a bear. When I shone the light where the horses were looking, I saw its glowing red eyes. The twigs breaking also gave him away. It sounded like a human walking, trying to sneak around in the forest.

“Get out of here,” I yelled, now outside holding my headlamp with my left hand and some hay with my right. I yelled for a few minutes while Clara slammed on the horn of the old motorhome.

“You guys are okay, everyone just relax,” I said to Mac and Smokey before giving each a flake of hay. I tried to sound way more confident than I felt.

Luckily, the bear went off into the night and we went back to sleep… or tried to anyway.