In Griz Country

In college, I loved going over to the grad school housing where Coleen lived. She was in grad school getting her Masters of Library Science. She seemed very old to me at the time, age 25, and having already earned her her bachelor's. She was well read, a clever writer, and always engaging at a cocktail party. 

For her two weeks vacation, she'd always go to her favorite place in the world: Glacier National Park. There she'd make a multi-day trek into the backcountry. 

I asked her if she packed a rifle in grizzly country as all the backwoods Montana packers and guides did. She said no. She figured she was going into their territory and why should she shoot them for her choosing to go into their home? It would have sounded like complete bravado, or a total lie coming from any of my other college friends, but she wasn't lying. She hiked in Glacier and saw several griz, but left them alone and they left her alone.

After two weeks in the back country, I found her back in her apartment, with her futon, her books. Two weeks in the back country and her hair had gone without razor, natural and wild as the Montana rockies. It was one of the sexiest memories I have of her.