The Eyes of a Wolf

It's not so much that the mountains rise.

It's more like the land falls away. The plains of Alberta are thousands of feet above sea level, a high plateau that seems to stretch on forever into the Canadian prairies. But even the prairie ends eventually. Located on the border between Alberta and British Columbia, Jasper National Park marks a shift from flat land to mountain. Approaching from the east, the road plunges along a river valley, and frowning mountains suddenly surround you.

Jasper contains 11,000 square kilometers of near-wilderness. And it's surrounded by other national parks too, making it part of a truly gigantic area that's virtually untouched. Designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the park contains just one small town and only a couple of significant roads. Two million people visit every year, but the park remains a wild place. A place where the natural world presses in on all sides, from the bare peaks of the mountains coated in year-round snow to the startling turquoise waters of the rivers and lakes.

Almost as soon as you enter Jasper, you're reminded just how wild the place is. Majestic elk chew grass by the side of the road. Bighorn sheep climb down from the cliffs to lick the salt from the asphalt. Hunting is forbidden in Canada's national parks, and as a result, animal populations stay high. Herbivores like elk and sheep are happy to stay close to town, knowing the presence of humans will keep away predators such as mountain lions and wolves.

We had only just entered the park when we began to see some of the wildlife. Bighorn sheep walked along the road, seemingly oblivious to the passing cars. As we drove slowly past, a flash of white on a rocky outcrop caught my eye, and I pulled over. A herd of mountain goats was making its way along precipitous cliffs in search of lichen and moss. It wasn't our first time in the park; far from it. At the time, we lived a three hour drive away, and we often made the trip to enjoy everything the park had to offer. But somehow, these wild places never lose their wonder. The cycles of the seasons and the unpredictability of the animals mean that the park is never the same twice. Ordinarily, mountain goats stay high up on the peaks where even a telephoto lens struggles to reach, and I counted myself lucky to have seen them close enough to the road to get a decent photograph.

As we drove on, heading toward town, movement by the side of the road caught my eye. At first, I thought it was another sheep. As the creature stepped out blinking into the sunlight, I changed my mind. A coyote, maybe. But as it sniffed the air and turned its golden eyes toward me, I realized I was seeing a wild wolf for the first time in my life.

He was alone, and thin. Wolves aren’t supposed to be alone, and they’re not supposed be out in the middle of the day. But as I shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, camera in hand, the wolf didn’t seem in the least bit concerned by my presence. Strolling across the road, he began to climb the rocky slope, furred with brown grass, toward the forest beyond.

I held my breath. At the edge of the trees, the wolf turned to look back at me. A stray patch of sunlight lanced through the bushes, and his eyes glowed like amber as they stared arrogantly straight down the lens of my camera.

Nothing on earth has eyes like a wild wolf. There's no mistaking it for the dull stare of a dog or the shy wariness of a coyote. Wolves look at us like they know us. Like they see right through us. As though there's some secret compact between us that they remember, even if we don't. Like the entire snarling wilderness of a million miles of mountain is staring right through you.

My camera clicked. Unhurriedly, the wolf turned and disappeared into the shade of the trees, alone but uncowed. I let out a long breath as I snapped the lens cap back onto my camera. An encounter with the wild that's impossible to forget.