I've only seen one bear while canoe tripping. It was my first trip in 1983 while with my girlfriend, now wife. We entered at Homer Lake off the Gunflint.  On a portage I remember running into two guys coming out saying they had a bear in camp. Apparently I didn't heed the warning and we continued before setting up our camp on Juno Lake.

I remember it was extremely calm and quiet that evening. The kind of quiet where you just hear a hum. I thought it was amazing really. Until...... Until we started hearing branches snapping across the lake. Something was out there and freaking us greenhorns out.

I had hung our duffle food pack from a "bear bar". This was a pole constructed between trees by the FS. I assumed I was good to go.

Just after dark from our tent I hear our Grumman canoe start rocking around on the beach. I rush out and shine a light on the backside of a very large bear. I banged pots and pans which did nothing. The big Bear just took its sweet time going through the campsite and even standing up to sniff our dish towel hanging from a branch. I also remember it ripping open a junk log by the fireplace and licking grubs or ants from inside.

It did come within 10 feet of the tent but definitely didn't like my light in its eyes and turned around and eventually went up the trail where our food was. By now my girlfriend was petrified and crying and my heart was pounding out of my chest.
About 20 minutes went by and we thought we were good. Soon we heard a loud crash from the woods. We knew what that meant but I wasn't going to challenge it for our food.

The next morning we surveyed the damage. Everything was ripped apart right there. There was no trace of a large lexan jar of peanut butter. Apparently it consumed the plastic too. Two fuel bottles in the bag (don't ask...) were bitten into and punctured. Only our coffee survived although it was a little gooey from where the bear's tongue sampled it.

So that was it for our week. We were now done and paddled out through Brulé Lake in dangerous winds at our back. On an empty stomach I ran back to my Jeep then packed up to spend the week at the Grand Marais campground. And that's the story of my first ever BW trip.