For a guy with such a fragile name, Hugh Glass must have seemed unbreakable.

Shot twice and mauled by a grizzly bear, the mountain man made famous in the book and acclaimed movie “The Revenant” grew to mythological proportions in his era. Yet after cheating death so many times, and under such unusual circumstances, in real life his adventures were ended on the Yellowstone River, just east of Billings, in 1833.

"He was quite a character," said Jay Buckley, an associate professor of History at Brigham Young University, who is familiar with Glass' story. "We don't know a ton about that era, but we wouldn't know anything about Hugh Glass if he hadn't been attacked by a bear."

Glass was a fur trapper in the heydays of the mountain man, the 1820s to 1840s.

“It was a really pivotal time in history,” said Laurie Hartwig, who served as director of the Museum of the Mountain Man in Pinedale, Wyo., for 14 years and is now a staff member.

The mountain men traveled on the heels of western explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, some of the first Euro-Americans to explore the Missouri and Yellowstone river drainages in Montana. The routes the fur trappers traveled, Hartwig said, are the same paths that settlers would later follow to lay claim to the West.

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Officials say the elk population in the northern part of Yellowstone National Park and southern Montana is stable after dropping over the past few years.

The Northern Yellowstone Cooperative Wildlife Working Group counted 4,900 elk in the region this winter. That's up from last year's count of 4,840 elk, but still down sharply from the highest count in recent years, when biologists saw more than 6,000 in 2010. That's down from 19,000 in the mid-1990s.

The new trend toward stability comes after a set of mild winters, and that there's a possibility that harsher winters could change that in the future.

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Kristen Berube lives a crazy, laugh-filled life with her outdoorsman husband Remi and their three camo-clad children in Missoula, Montana. A graduate of Montana State University and the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, she loves being a mom and enjoys hiking, fishing, and camping.

I love an adventure. I love the feel of fresh, cool air whipping across my face; filling my lungs with the "freshness". I swear nature has the ability to heal my soul. The healing powers of nature are amazing. I am a believer. From simple everyday stresses to serious problems, fresh air and nature usually clarify the path that should be chosen. When you combine nature and adventure you get something magical, something once in a lifetime, something you will never forget.

Long story short... My fiancé and I had been pretty dang grumpy the last few months as we were starting a new business at the ripe old age of 23. In fact, every time I looked at him, I kind of wanted to pop him one in the nose. Well…That is not particularly healthy for either one of us. Talk about stress. Talk about not even knowing how to deal with real life stress. In hindsight, we did pretty well, but I will never forget feeling so lost and so FRIED. We took it out on each other and pretended we were perfectly happy and in control to the rest of the world. Now, when I look back, I am proud of us for overcoming all of the obstacles that were repeatedly thrown at us. Dip! Dive! Dodge!

Anyways! One day I was sitting there thinking about life and I got a wild, wild hair. Using money we did NOT have, I busted out my credit card and booked my fiancé, Remi and I, a trip to Alaska. We both love the outdoors and we had talked about going there "someday" so, so many times. I figured I wouldn't face an argument considering it was, after all, Alaska. Cue: the heavens opening, music, and sunshine sprinkles…I thought that it would be good for us to have an adventure and nurture our strained souls and our bruised relationship by ripping the lips off of a few salmon and running from a few bears. Okay, maybe not running from bears, but at least seeing the big suckers! Little did I know, that we would indeed, see some huge bears and we would be close enough to floss their teeth with a fish bone.

I was so excited when I pointed my mouse at the “BUY” button for our airplane tickets and clicked, that I almost peed myself. You know half from excitement and half from just blowing all of our plastic “money”. Yipes! Then I began pacing in giddy excitement as I waited for Remi to get his butt home. When his truck pulled up I about killed myself in the screen door trying to get outside to break the news. I spastically told him, and he was instantly jacked up and as giddy as a school boy in the fishing department at Cabela’s. We immediately got on the computer and began making plans, drooling and “ooooohhhhing and awwwwwing” - you know since we left in seven days and all- there simply wasn't a moment to lose.

Our plans were finalized and we anxiously awaited our seven days. Ahhhhhh, the torture of having no patience and exploding excitement is about enough to kill a girl, but I did survive those LONG seven days. Barely. Ha!

As soon as our feet hit the Alaskan soil and felt the cool air fill our lungs I immediately felt better. Less pressure. Less stress. More happy. My worries were lifted off of my shoulders and at the moment I realized how much I had needed this and I smiled at Remi, he smiled back, and we were ready for our Alaskan adventure.

Remi and I both love fishing and where o’ where, is better to fish than Alaska? Lucky turds that we were! We decided to hop on a Havilland beaver plane and go across the Cooke Inlet, to the chain of lakes and get dropped off for a day of fly fishing. Holy crud, I did not know what I was getting into. As our pilot dropped us off on this tiny island of muskeg, I looked everywhere… there was nothing resembling and sort of human civilization! The fact is, I do not think that I have ever been so ALONE… The feeling of having absolutely nothing at the tips of your fingers, you know crazy things like doctors and grocery stores, is at the same time exhilarating and terrifying.

Have you ever walked on muskeg? It is weird and a little creepy. It is like a mat of vines and slime that makes an island. It is not land, but you can walk on it and it just feels like you are walking on a squishing sponge. Weird! I looked around and saw nothing. No homes, no people, no nothing. Well, except alotta bears!! Holy crap, there were bears everywhere, and all we had to protect ourselves was our bare hands and sissy bear spray. I guess we could whip at them with our fly rods… No one told me I would pee my pants within the first two minutes of our trip. Ahhhhhh!!! So awesome, so scary, and holy crap, were basically a repeating loop through my brain. I nonchalantly asked our pilot- you know so that he wouldn't know I was scared out of my frigging mind, “Should we be concerned about all of the bears?!” He said, “No, because they are preoccupied with all of the spawning salmon.” Apparently it was supposed to bring me comfort that the hungry bears would rather chase a fish than me… in theory. He told us that our guide would arrive shortly. Ummmm, okay... I thought with living in Montana I was pretty tough, but there is nothing that can make you feel more exposed than the raw power of nature “eyeballin’” ya in the form of hundreds of pounds of muscle, teeth, and claws. My adrenaline was pumping through my veins and I loved it. Remi seemed as cool as a cucumber but I know he was peeing his pants too! As our plane took off across the water and soared into the air Remi and I looked at each other again and gave each other a knowing smile. This was awesome! Okay, now where is that damn guide to keep us from becoming bear turds?

As it happened we sat there for about 45 minutes when all of the sudden we heard the humming of a boat motor and I was relieved. After 45 minutes I was concerned that our guide might have been converted into a bear turd as well and we had no way to get out of here without his precious sat phone to get the plane back. So you may be wondering where this guide came from since there was absolutely nothing anywhere near this little island we were marooned on, but that guy did come from somewhere and to this day... I still have no freaking clue! Once I saw him...I thought perhaps he might have come straight from the bear den that he lived in- you know with the bears. He was grisly! Holy shit, I had never seen anything like him. Tougher than nails, brown leathered skin, a beard down to mid chest, a burning Marlboro hanging from his lips and a sawed off shot gun at his side. I had no doubt this man could take out a bear with this bare hands if need be. Okay, who should we have been more afraid of: the bears or this guy? Yikes! He said his name was Jack in a raspy voice and that we were going to catch some fish and see some bears today. Yep, this was going to be awesome. We hopped into his 18 foot jet boat , with the motor purring and the water spraying we were off to catch us some silver salmon! Wahoo!

Old Jack took us to all off his honey holes and we slayed the fish. Our lines were ripping out faster than we could reel them in. Good God, my arms were tired. It was fricking great! Once the bite slowed down, Old Jack asked if we wanted to go check out some bears. I asked if it was safe and he said, “As long as you stay in the boat.” Um…hell yes, I will be staying in the boat! I couldn’t wait to see the bears!!!

Old Jack, now he was a fearless “sumbitch” and gave us the best bear viewing I could have ever, ever, ever asked for. We all piled back into his boat and tore off towards Old Jack’s bear watching grounds. Granted, I'm still not convinced he didn't live with the bears somewhere around there. The first spot was a no show. So we zoomed off towards a different area. The spawning fish were everywhere, easy targets and ready for consumption for all of the hungry bears who needed fattening up for the winter. There was literally a pot of bears hanging out, ready to hand pick their breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, and one more snack. Okay, basically the bears were just gorging themselves into salmon euphoria. Seeing all of those bears was amazing!!! They were everywhere!!!! Old Crazy Jack asked if we wanted a closer view... Well sure. I didn't realize that the crazy old coot meant would you like to pettttt the freaking bears! He drove over to this giant rock that overhung the water and like clockwork a huge mama brown bear dove into the water about two feet from the edge of our boat- front paws and claws outstretched towards the water and the jumping salmon. Holyyyyyyyy crap! We were so close that she sprayed us with water when she jumped in. I could see her two adorable cubs sitting on the water’s edge waiting for their mother to come back with another tasty fish delight. Mommy with two babies... All the more reason to pee my pants, yet again. I wanted to tell Old Jack that we were going to tip him even if we didn't get to pet the bears or be on a first name basis with old monster mommy over there. Dang! That got the ol’ ticker pumpin’! Remi looked like he had a permanent grin frozen to his face. I will never forget that face, the expression of sheer horror and pleasure all wrapped into one giant, frozen grin. Just plain awesome.

After we watched the bears a bit longer it was time for us to get our butts outta’ there before the sun went down and we really did become bear turds. Old Jack told us to walk across the muskeg to the most random table sitting in the middle of this island and then go to the other side of the water’s edge and wait for our plane. He told us not to dilly dally near the table, which so happens to be a fish cleaning station complete with a filet knife and an old milk jug tied to the side for the guts. Once you clean your fish you are supposed to go out into the water and get a milk jug scoop of water to "wash" the table. But clearly the area reeks like fish and the bears like to hang out there. Ummmm… ok we will be moving along quickly.

We said our goodbyes to Old Jack, who was still puffing on the burning Marlboro dangling from his lips as it had been all day long. For some reason, I don't think Old Jack would ever give the nicotine patch a try. So we said adios and he zoomed off in his jet boat, leaving us there surrounded by bears, on a muskeg island, the smell of fish and each other. Romantic, right?

Our plane arrived about 20 minutes later, we hopped in and looked at each other breathed a sigh of relief that we would not be converted to bear turds by morning. We had a ton of fish and we were so refreshed in that moment that nothing else mattered. The only thing that mattered was the thrill of an amazing day that nature had graced us with and each other. There were no worries no stressors, just life. And it's a life worth living to its fullest every day.

Now go outside and give yourself a mini vacation! Breathe some fresh air, hike a mountain-side and go catch a fish!

Lacey Middlestead is a Montana native and freelance writer currently living in Helena, Mont. She loves meeting new people and helping share their stories. When she’s not busy writing articles for newspapers like the Independent Record and Helena Vigilante, she can usually be found indulging in her second greatest passion–playing in the Montana wilderness. She loves skiing and snowmobiling in the winter and four wheeling, hiking, boating, and riding dirt bikes in the summer.

Do you remember the first time you tried ice skating? It’s a strangely phenomenal sensation that first time you glide effortlessly across a sheet of ice on two thin blades. Most of us, if we start skating early, have just begun to master the art of walking when suddenly we are strapped into these odd little shoes with blades on the bottom and are told we are going to use them on ice. The concept and movement of skating is hard to grasp at first but entirely unforgettable once mastered.

I was fortunate to have learned to skate on an outdoor rink—at Memorial Park to be exact. What it lacked in fancy stadium seating and Zambonis it made up for with hot chocolate from the warming house and a blue-bird sky to skate under. I have fond memories of skating at Memorial with my dad when I was little. I remember sitting in the warming house with my foot between his knees as he laced up my figure skates for me. Once out on the ice, I swished around in all my snow gear trying to pick up speed but ultimately spending a lot of time sitting on my padded rear end on the ice. Memorial was where I learned to skate, first held a hockey stick in my hands, and developed a love for Montana winters.

This past Sunday afternoon my husband and I found ourselves driving to my old skating grounds at Memorial to take some friends’ 4-year-old daughter skating. We were privileged to have been present for Camille’s very first skating session at the indoor rink a few weeks earlier, but I thought she needed to experience the joy of skating under the Big Sky so we had invited her to go to Memorial with us.

When we finally pulled up to the rink we spotted Camille waiting for us outside the warming house all plumped up in her snow gear. We grabbed our skates and her mitten-hands and headed inside to pay. It was like walking back in time when I first stepped inside the warming house. Not much had changed since my dad first took me there when I was about Camille’s age. There was a long wooden bench running along the edge of the room where you could sit and tie your skates and a cubed shelf in one corner that housed all of the various rental skates. And of course there was the front counter where you paid and picked up your hot cocoa on the especially cold days. I was delighted to also see a tasty variety of crackers, chips and candy available for purchase. I had a feeling we would all be needing some of that when we were done.

After getting all of our skates laced up, we teetered across the carpet towards the door leading outside. The rink was packed. But with temperatures in the high 20s and sunshine beaming down, what kid wouldn’t have wanted to be out skating? Standing behind Camille, with my hands wrapped around her waist, we pushed off together on to the ice. She immediately started giggling hysterically and rapidly swinging her legs back and forth. She was certainly loving life.

Teaching a kid to skate is a lot harder than I would’ve imagined. You don’t dare let go of them for fear they’ll smack their face onto the ice. And the notion of gliding on your feet is very difficult for them to understand. Camille seemed convinced she could sprint across the ice. After a while, we quit trying so hard and just focused on holding her up so she could run, jump and dance any way she wanted. Because honestly, at the end of the day, a kid simply enjoying themselves at an activity is far more important than how well they do at it.

It turns out, Camille was most interested in scooting about on her hands and knees and eating the snow and ice chips kicked up from skate blades than actually skating. But I smiled to myself and was proud of her anyways. She had given it a solid 4-year old try and at least she was playing outside and enjoying the Montana winter. The day finished with the three of us sitting inside the warming house with our skates kicked off passing around a bag of Cheetos. While not the most successful day of ice skating, it was a perfect winter day in my book.