Almost sidetracked by 'bear market,' Chip Roame's and Skip Schweiss's hike-and-network group goes (mostly) long-only in Montana with an upsized group

"The Chip and Skip Excellent Adventure" got past COVID-19 but nearly got knocked off course by roaming bears, before completing a giant hike with a huge crew of varied archetypes -- including a healthy number who prefer not to know a stock from a bond.

The once ad-hoc hiking group of 13 type-A financial execs culled in 2011 from the Tiburon CEO Summit ventured this year to Summit Montana’s Glacier National Park. 

Tiburon Strategic Advisors Founder Chip Roame and Skip Schweiss originally organized the trek, hence it's name.

Incidentally, Schweiss announced Tuesday (Aug. 24)  he is the new CEO of Sierra Group, which manages $9 billion. Schweiss is also volunteer president of the FPA until January.

The event centered this year on a 28-mile hike up Glacier's Ptarmigan Trail to Cosley Lake and back --  a territory noted for moose and bears, both grizzly and black.  Elevation gain for the day was near 6,000 feet. Previous trips were about as tough. (See below)

Bear scare

A less over-amped subset forewent this years marathon hike for a civil hike to stunning Iceberg Lake. We all almost went on an alternate route.

Just days before we arrived, the U.S. Park Service closed Ptarmigan Trail due to excessive bear activity. 

This caused Chip and Skip to plan a Plan B hike, but also raised awareness that, wherever we hiked, we would be on bear turf.

Fortunately, the Park Rangers lifted the alert after it deemed the bears had calmed down and the hike proceeded as originally planned.

However, it was hard to forget about the bears.  What if they didn’t get the memo? 

The Park Rangers told us a bear had never attacked a group of four or more.  There were 40 of us-- out of 61 in the group overall --  hiking to Cosley Lake.

 Focusing on the odds was calming and ultimately provided the false sense of invincibility that is essential to overcoming one’s survival instincts.

Tempting fate

We came loud and ready to fight back. 

The first line of defense is bear bells.  A jangling bear bell announces the presence of the human intruder and gives the bear an opportunity to shuffle off, unobserved, into the underbrush.  

Bears are smart. They want nothing to do with humans.  Most negative bear encounters occur when the bear, especially a mama bear, is surprised by a stealthy hiker.

The next line of defense is bear spray.  There are signs everywhere in Glacier National Park advising hikers to carry bear spray at all times.  Most do.  But it is questionable how many know how to deploy bear spray.  

Following the Excellent Adventure hike over Crow Pass in Alaska a few years ago, Frank Trotter volunteered to collect the group’s unused bear spray cannisters for disposal or donation.  

Upon examination, he found that most cannisters still had the manufacturer-installed safety zip-ties firmly in place. This renders them completely unusable in case of emergency.

A bear bell can only do so much.

Therefore, it is also important to adopt a noisy hiking style in bear country -- something this crowd had in its arsenal -- even if it detracted from the serenity of the great outdoors.

We talked, clacked hiking poles, and even tooted on a coach’s whistle. We didn't tempt fate by referring to the bears as Winnie or Yogi.

Ptarmigan Lake

Most of our long hikers set out before sunrise, about 5 a.m. 

From the darkness of the Swiftcurrent trailhead, a train of head lamps arose in hopes the sun wouldn't be far behind.  

Through the lush forest and into the dawn, we ascended about five miles into a basin containing crystal green Ptarmigan Lake.  

We climbed above the lake on a series of switchbacks to a tunnel that was carved through stone more than a century ago.  We delighted in the coolness of the narrow passageway.

On the other side stretched a long valley dominated by Lake Elizabeth, a shimmering pool of melted snow fed by ancient glaciers that hung in the steep mountains around us.  The craggy peaks and ridges were like saw blades ripping through the blue sky.

We descended several miles on a trail carved into the red, flinty face of the mountain.  We entered the woods that surrounded Lake Elizabeth passing by waterfalls and nameless mountain streams kept alive by run-off from the snow fields tucked into crevices above us. 

Avoiding fear

We crossed the river connecting Lake Elizabeth to Cosley Lake on a trampoline-like suspension bridge. The water was so pure you could see every pebble in the riverbed.  

We continued through the verdant forest so thick with berry bushes that they obscured our feet on the trail.  

There was bear scat near the trail and areas where the grasses had been flattened by the napping carnivoran mammals.

The final line of defense (other than playing dead) is what the EA crew euphemistically refered to as “heat.”  The type of heat necessary to take down a grizzly packs so much punch that the user is typically thrown backward a foot or two in a cloud of smoke and flame.  

A charging grizzly would have little to fear from a quivering financial services executives attempting a quick-draw, rapid fire maneuver.  But heat brings peace of mind and misplaced confidence to the hikers. 

Fortunately, the beasts let us pass unseen.  

The right attitude is also important when hiking through bear country.  Anxiety drains energy and detracts from enjoyment of the surrounding beauty.  Fear is debilitating and unsustainable over the course of a 28-mile hike.  

Therefore, evincing acceptance and resignation about a potential mauling is important.

Eight mile push

When we, at last, reached Cosley Lake, a dazzling jewel, we rejoiced in the magnificence of our surroundings and having each other to share it with once we regrouped slower and faster hikers.

We refueled on trail food and electrolyte drinks and prepared for the hike back out.  It was time for an 8-mile push up hill to the tunnel after a long descent.

We retraced our steps up the valley to Lake Elizabeth and then ascended though the dense forest to the chiseled red-rock trail that led back to the tunnel. 

On the other side, the deep rumble and flying debris from a rockslide reminded us there were dangers in the remoteness besides the furry ones we had anticipated.  

The rocks bounced helter skelter down the mountain in our direction.  We dodged left, then right, trying to stay out of their path, but they all came to rest before reaching us.  

We were tired now and strung out along the trail.  As we approached the trailhead, every mile seemed like two.

 We encouraged and drew strength from each other.  A kind word and a smile are powerful stimulants.  We could do this.  Together we could do this.

Good fortune!

Fortune made hiking as easy as possible.  The weather was perfect.  The bears and moose kept their distance, although there were sightings along the way.

Unlike some past years, no one got lost or suffered serious injury.  And the dead tree that crashed down across the trail near the suspension bridge missed the EA crew by a good 20 yards.

Hikers dusted themselves off at trail’s end and drifted back to the Many Glacier Hotel—the EA headquarters—over the course of many hours.  The first hikers returned by late afternoon. The last hikers arrived at Many Glacier after dark, long after the celebration had begun. 

Yet, the planning was already underway for the next lark that will take place Aug. 6 to 9, 2022, in Lake Tahoe, Calif.  EA headquarters will be the Resort at Squaw Creek.  https://ucarecdn.com/f3c5ea22-efe0-4c24-9e4e-3d32ac88b0d0/-/crop/487x488/32,0/-/preview/-/resize/400x/-/quality/smart_retina/-/progressive/yes/-/resize/150x/