August 13, 1967. It’s a date etched into the DNA of the National Park Service, but not for anything celebratory. Before that night, humans and bears in Glacier National Park lived in a kind of messy, unwritten truce. People thought grizzlies were basically big, slow-moving raccoons. They weren't scared. They’d literally sit on bleachers to watch bears eat trash. Then, in a single lightning-streaked night, everything broke. Two young women, Julie Helgeson and Michele Koons, were killed by two different bears in two different locations miles apart.
It changed everything.
The Night of the Grizzlies wasn't just a freak accident. It was a systemic failure. If you go to Glacier today, you see "Bear Aware" signs everywhere. You see bear-proof trash cans that require a degree in engineering to open. You carry bear spray like it's a religious relic. None of that existed in 1967. Back then, the park was a buffet. And the bears were the invited guests.
The Myth of the "Tame" Grizzly
We have to talk about the culture of the 60s to understand why this happened. People didn't respect the wilderness; they consumed it. At the Granite Park Chalet and Trout Lake, visitors were actually encouraged to see bears up close.
The Granite Park Chalet was basically a dinner show. The management would dump kitchen scraps—rotten meat, leftovers, literal garbage—into a ravine just a stone's throw from the guest rooms. Why? Because it brought the bears in. Tourists loved it. They’d sit on the porch with their drinks and watch 500-pound apex predators fight over steak fat. It was a circus.
But bears aren't performers. They’re opportunistic feeders with a biological drive to pack on calories. When you feed a bear, you aren't being nice. You're teaching it that humans equal food. Biologists call this "food conditioning." Once a grizzly associates the scent of a human with an easy meal, the danger level doesn't just go up—it redlines.
By the summer of '67, several bears in the park had become "spoiled." They weren't hunting elk or digging for glacier lilies anymore. They were raiding packs. One particular bear, often described as a scrawny, sickly-looking sow, had been terrorizing the Granite Park area for weeks. She had been seen ripping into tents. She wasn't scared of shouts or rocks. She was hungry, and she knew where the food was.
Two Attacks, One Night
The sheer coincidence of the Night of the Grizzlies is what still baffles people today. To have two fatal attacks by two separate bears on the same night is statistically impossible. Yet, it happened.
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Julie Helgeson was 19. She was working at the East Glacier Park Lodge for the summer. She and her friend Roy Ducat hiked up to the Granite Park area and decided to sleep out under the stars. They weren't even in a tent. Around midnight, the "spoiled" sow arrived. It didn't go for their packs. It went for them. Roy was severely mauled but survived. Julie was dragged into the brush.
Miles away, near Trout Lake, another group of young people was camped out. Michele Koons, also 19, was part of this group. They had encountered a bear earlier in the evening—a large male that had been prowling the camps for food. They tried to scare it off, but it kept coming back. When the bear finally attacked, it went for Michele. Her friends scrambled up trees, helpless, listening to the nightmare unfold.
It’s easy to look back and say they were "reckless." But they were doing what everyone did back then. They didn't know the rules because there basically weren't any.
Why the Bears Snapped
There’s a lot of debate among naturalists about why that specific night was so violent. Some point to the weather. A massive lightning storm was rolling through the mountains, creating a high-stress environment. Others point to the "garbage habit."
Actually, the most compelling evidence suggests that the bears had simply lost all fear. When a grizzly loses its fear of humans and combines that with a desperate need for calories (it was a poor berry year in 1967), you get a predatory shift. The bears weren't just defending cubs or territory. They were foraging. And humans, unfortunately, were on the menu.
The Immediate Aftermath and the Jack Olsen Factor
If you want to understand the legacy of this event, you have to read Jack Olsen’s book, Night of the Grizzlies. It’s a classic of outdoor journalism, originally published in 1969. Olsen didn't just report the facts; he pointed the finger directly at the National Park Service.
He argued that the NPS knew the bears were dangerous. He documented how rangers had been warned about the "problem bears" weeks before the attacks. One bear had even bitten a girl's arm through a tent earlier that summer. Nothing was done. The "show" at the chalets was too popular to shut down.
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The fallout was massive.
- The "garbage shows" were immediately banned.
- Bear-proof infrastructure was fast-tracked.
- The park implemented a strict "one strike" policy for aggressive bears.
Suddenly, the park service realized that their job wasn't just to entertain tourists. It was to manage an ecosystem. This shift led to the modern bear management protocols we see across the globe today. If a bear gets into a cooler in Yellowstone today, it’s a major incident. In 1967, it was just Tuesday.
What People Get Wrong About 1967
There is a common misconception that these were "killer bears" that had gone rogue like something out of a horror movie. Honestly, that’s a dangerous way to look at it.
The bears were just being bears.
Humans were the ones who messed up the equation. By providing easy calories, we effectively "trained" these animals to be killers. When people talk about the Night of the Grizzlies, they often focus on the gore or the tragedy of the two young women. But the real tragedy was the human arrogance that preceded it.
Another myth? That menstruating women are at higher risk. For years, people blamed the attacks on the fact that the victims were women. This was based on a flawed, sexist theory that grizzlies are attracted to certain scents. Subsequent studies by experts like Kerry Gunther and others have largely debunked this. The bears weren't looking for women; they were looking for food, and the victims happened to be in their path.
The Reality of Hiking Glacier Today
So, is it safe?
Statistically, yes. You are more likely to die in a car wreck on the Going-to-the-Sun Road than you are to be eaten by a bear. But the Night of the Grizzlies reminds us that "safe" is a relative term in the wilderness.
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The bears are still there. In fact, there are more grizzlies in the Northern Continental Divide Ecosystem now than there were in the 60s. The difference is the management.
The New Rules of the Woods
If you’re heading into grizzly country, you need to understand that you are entering a different world.
- Noise is your best friend. Bears hate surprises. If you're hiking, talk, sing, or clap. Don't rely on "bear bells"—they're mostly useless and sound like a dinner bell to some animals. Use your voice.
- Bear spray is non-negotiable. It’s more effective than a firearm in most charging situations. Know how to use it. Don't keep it in your pack; keep it on your hip or chest.
- Clean camps save lives. Every scrap of food, every tube of toothpaste, and every dirty dish must be secured in a bear-resistant container or hung from a high wire.
- The 100-yard rule. If you see a grizzly, you stay 100 yards away. Period. No "selfies." No getting closer for a better look.
Lessons from the Tragedy
The Night of the Grizzlies serves as a grim milestone in conservation history. It taught us that "wild" means wild. We cannot curate nature to be a safe, sanitized version of itself without destroying the very thing that makes it special.
The deaths of Julie Helgeson and Michele Koons weren't in vain, though. They forced a total reimagining of how humans interact with the Great Bear. We moved from a model of "exploitation" to one of "coexistence."
It’s a fragile peace.
Every time a tourist leaves a cooler open or tosses a sandwich crust to a squirrel, they are undoing the lessons learned in 1967. We owe it to the victims—and to the bears—to stay smart.
Actionable Steps for Your Next National Park Trip
- Check the Berry Report: If you're visiting in late summer, ask rangers about the berry crop. Low berry years mean more "desperate" bears near trails.
- Join a Ranger-Led Hike: If you're nervous, hike in a group. Bears almost never attack groups of four or more people who are making noise.
- Report Every Encounter: If a bear approaches you or shows no fear, tell a ranger. That information could prevent the next tragedy.
- Study Bear Body Language: A "bluff charge" is different from a predatory attack. Knowing when to stand your ground versus when to play dead is life-saving knowledge.
The mountains are beautiful, but they don't care about you. The Night of the Grizzlies is the ultimate proof of that. Respect the boundary, keep your food locked up, and maybe, just maybe, we can keep the peace for another sixty years.
Expert Insight: Remember that bear management is a moving target. What worked in 1970 might be updated today based on new GPS tracking data. Always check the official NPS website for the specific park you are visiting for the most current safety protocols.
Practical Tip: Buy your bear spray before you get to the park entrance. Prices at gift shops are often marked up by 40%. Ensure it is EPA-approved and has a minimum 7.9-ounce canister for sufficient spray duration.