The air in the Torngat Mountains is different. It’s thin, sharp, and smells like ancient stone and cold salt water. Matt Dyer, a legal aid lawyer from Maine with a scraggly ponytail and a deep love for the woods, wasn’t looking for trouble when he signed up for a $6,000 Sierra Club expedition in 2013. He wanted to see the world's largest land carnivore. He got his wish, but it nearly cost him everything.
Torngat Mountains National Park sits at the jagged northern tip of Labrador, Canada. It is a place where humans are definitely not at the top of the food chain.
The Night Everything Broke
Imagine sleeping in a thin nylon tent. It’s 2:30 a.m. You’re tucked into your sleeping bag, listening to the rhythm of rain and sleet hitting the fabric. Suddenly, a shadow towers over you.
Two massive legs.
Matt Dyer woke up to that exact silhouette. He didn't have time to think. He screamed, "Bear in the camp!" but the creature was already coming through the roof. It didn't just bite him; it pounced, crushing the tent and grabbing Dyer by the head and neck.
The bear dragged him.
Imagine the sound of beach rocks shifting under a 1,000-pound predator’s paws while your own bones are cracking in your skull. Matt said later he could smell the bear—a thick, sickening stench of dead fish and old seal. He was convinced he was going to die. He even thought about his wife, Jeanne, and his father, a Maine lobsterman, wondering how they’d take the news.
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The bear didn't care about the electric fence.
That’s one of the biggest misconceptions about the matt dyer polar bear story. The group had set up a portable electric fence powered by D-cell batteries. The outfitter told them it would "blow them out of their hiking boots" if they touched it. But for a hungry polar bear, it was basically a suggestion. A flimsy wire against a wall of muscle and fur.
Why the Flare Gun Changed Everything
The only reason Matt is alive today is because of a well-placed flare. Rich Gross, one of the trip leaders, scrambled out of his tent in his long underwear. He saw the bear running away into the darkness with a human in its mouth.
He fired.
The first flare missed, but the flash and the "swoosh" of the second one startled the bear enough to make it drop Matt. The bear didn't run far; it stood 50 yards away, watching. It was waiting to see if its meal would start moving again.
Matt lay on the tundra, covered in a clear, gelatinous slime. Polar bear saliva. He couldn't move. His jaw was shattered, his neck vertebrae were broken, and one of his lungs had collapsed.
The Aftermath and the Recovery
It took nearly eight hours for a helicopter to reach them. Eight hours of sitting in the Arctic cold, wondering if the bear was coming back.
When Matt finally woke up in a Montreal hospital, he couldn't speak. His larynx was crushed. He had to communicate with his wife through hand signals and notes. Doctors had to use metal plates to reconstruct his face.
- Injuries sustained: Broken jaw, fractured neck, collapsed lung, bitten-through hand, and multiple scalp gashes.
- Permanent changes: His voice is now a husky, gravelly rasp. He has a permanent "radio static" quality to his speech because of the damage to his vocal cords.
Honestly, most people would never go near a forest again after that. But Matt Dyer isn't most people. Just a year later, he went back. He joined a crew from VICE and InsideClimate News to return to the exact spot where he was attacked.
Why? Closure, mostly. But also a strange, lingering fascination. He doesn't hate the bear. He calls himself a "naturalist" and views the attack as a simple transaction of nature: the bear was hungry, and he was there.
The Climate Connection
Wildlife biologists like James Wilder have pointed out that these encounters are becoming more common. As sea ice melts, polar bears are forced onto land for longer periods. They’re skinnier, hungrier, and more desperate.
The bear that attacked Matt had been watching the camp for hours from a ledge. It wasn't a "random" encounter; it was a predator scouting its prey.
Lessons for the Modern Explorer
If you’re planning on heading into "Bear Country," don't just trust a battery-powered fence. Here is what the Matt Dyer story teaches us about survival in the high Arctic:
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- Guns vs. Flares: While Matt doesn't think a gun would have helped him (he was attacked while sleeping), Parks Canada now strongly recommends armed guards for groups in the Torngats.
- Noise Matters: Some members of the group joked that the bear picked Matt because he was the loudest snorer in the camp. It sounds like a joke, but in the silence of the tundra, noise is a beacon.
- The False Sense of Security: Never assume a deterrent is 100% effective. The electric fence failed because the bear likely just stepped over it or ignored the shock in its predatory drive.
Matt now has tattoos of polar bears on his forearms. He sees them as a part of him now. He’s back to work as a lawyer in Maine, still hiking, still loving the outdoors, and still telling the story of the night he was "dragged into the animal world."
If you find yourself in the wilderness, remember that you are a guest. Sometimes, the host is hungry.
Next Steps for Safety:
If you are planning a trip to a National Park with high predator density, contact the local ranger station to rent a satellite phone and inquire about the latest bear activity logs. Never rely solely on "bear-proof" containers or fences; always have a secondary deterrent like a bear-strength flare gun or bear spray within arm's reach inside your tent.