Timesuck with Dan Cummins - Short Suck #2 - Grizzly Bear vs Mountain Man: The Story of Hugh Glass

Episode Date: January 26, 2024

Today's Short Suck is all about the life of Hugh Glass - the man whose insane story of surviving a Grizzly Bear attack inspired the 2015 Leonardo DiCaprio film, The Revenant.  Hope you enjoy! And have a great weekend! Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/1nnLCum2UsUFor Merch and everything else Bad Magic related, head to: https://www.badmagicproductions.com

Welcome to another edition of Time Suck Short Sucks. I'm Dan Cummins and today I will be sharing the incredible story of Mountain Man Hugh Glass. A life full of adventures that included being captured by infamous pirates ready to kill him, then captured again by Native Americans also ready to kill him. He was likely in more shootouts and fights to the death than what has been written in the history books and the history books are full of a lot of these accounts. Hugh Glass was an early 19th century American fur trapper and trader, a hunter and explorer, a wild man, with long flowing hair down to the middle of his back and a beard down to his chest. Best known for his remarkable story

of survival after being left for dead in the middle of hundreds of miles of uninhabited wilderness after being savagely mauled by a grizzly bear. His story inspired the Leonardo DiCaprio movie of The Revenant, and he may have just been one of the toughest sons of bitches who ever lived. Get ready for your life to feel real, real soft and spoiled by comparison. Words and ideas can change the world. I hate it, but I wanted to love my mother. I have a dream! I'll plead not guilty right now. Your only chance is to leave with eyes.

How tough do you think you are, Hoss? Can you handle yourself in the dustup? Have you been in a real fight? Like a fist flying, teeth getting knocked down, throats kind of fighting. Can you handle yourself in the dust up? Have you been in a real fight? Like a fist flying, teeth getting knocked down, throats kind of fight. How'd you do? Would you do it again? How about a shootout?

Been in a guns blazing, bullets zipping towards you from every damn direction, shootout? If you have odds are you did alright, cause you're still here. But would you do it again and again and again? Ever been mauled by a damn grizzly bear like really mauled If you have do you think you'd want to ever spend months just walking around through grizzly bear infested woods ever again? If you would well Hats off to you You're tough, fearless son of a bitch, and you're either real brave or real stupid,

or a lot of both. You just might've won Hugh Glass' respect. He may have even shared some whiskey with you. Hugh Glass was one of the toughest sons of bitches who ever explored the wild west. In fact, I don't think God's ever made a man tougher than Hugh Glass. He never shot away from a fight, never showed fear, not ever. I personally don't think he ever felt it. And I reckon I should probably stop talking like some kind of Sam Elliott knockoff now and air it in some Western movie. It'll be mighty damn hard to

keep this up for around 45 minutes. Okay, that's me. Hugh Glass was one of the original mountain men who explored the Western frontier before mass immigration via the Oregon Trail. He wasn't some bougie wagon train rolling along some other man's wagon wheel rut sissy. He made his way out west on the back of a horse or on foot or on his hands and knees actually. Mountain men like you were often fur trappers or traders. They not only fought or brought valuable furs back east, they also brought information about the land and indigenous people living far out west. If not for men like you, there would never have been an Oregon Trail or any other similar trails. Someone had to go out

across the middle of the continent, explore the land without a map before wagons were going to head across. Fur trade west, the Mississippi began in the mid-18th century. Initially, European settlers hoped they could trade with indigenous people in exchange for guns, knives, and traps, fur trade west the Mississippi began in the mid 18th century. Initially European settlers hoped they could trade with indigenous people in exchange for guns knives and traps but of the by the early 19th century. They realized that indigenous tribes were either unwilling or unable to keep up with the high demand for furs in Europe and America. And I love that about the tribes actually. They weren't willing to sacrifice their quality of life so they could buy a big piece of land or live in some mansion. They didn't fucking care

about ownership the way the white man does. Also, they did care about keeping nature in balance and not upsetting that balance by getting greedy and killing so many creatures for fur one season that there wouldn't be any left to harvest the next. They lived with the land, not off of it. A variety of European businessmen founded fur trade companies in the 1820s and hired their own hunters and trappers. Those hunters would live and work in remote mountain areas year round. The men they hired were the original mountain men that often come to mind when we think

of the early days of the American West. And many of the men they hired had already been living out in the mountains for years if not decades. Wandering about in the hills where the land hadn't even been mapped by the white man yet. Wild to think about. Wandering out in the vast wilderness with no clue. What may lie ahead beyond the next ridge or across the plain?

No town to seek refuge in? You might encounter some people, but would they even know your language? Would they be friend or foe? There's something very romantic and exhilarating about the thought of it all, but also terrifying. At this point in my life, I have no interest in doing something like this. I love my modern creature comforts. But also, what a true fucking adventure that would be. When the fur industry really got going, most mountain men would work in small groups, strengthen some numbers rather than being truly alone, and they would work for large fur trading companies as company men rather

than working for themselves as independent contractors. Big fur companies would employ hundreds of trappers and hunters at a time and pay them steady wages. Trappers and hunters would be given food, equipment, other supplies they might need out in the wilderness to help them survive and bring back their sweet, sweet beaver pelts or whatever other animal pelts they were bringing back. The fur trade for many years in the early 19th century would be centered in the greater green river basin of southwest Wyoming. That actually bleeds a bit into Colorado and Utah, mostly because of the high demand for

the lush beaver pelts found there, which was in fashion at the time. What a beautiful area. 21,000 square miles of what my dad would call God's country. Fur traders also traveled to Big Horn Canyon near modern-day Fort Smith, Montana, using the Bad Pass Trail. Gorgeous area of Montana that sits on the Crow Reservation that also encompasses the site of Custer's last stand in the Battle of Little Bighorn. In 1807, St. Louis-based businessman Manuel Liza, a Spanish man born in New Orleans, back when Spain still controlled the city, organized a fur gathering journey out of that part of the country.

His group built Fort Raymond, the first permanent structure in Montana. More trappers came to this area in the following years and primarily traveled along the Bad Pass Trail. In the late 1830s, fur trappers stopped using the Bad Pass Route because of the rugged terrain and the constant threat of attack by the Sioux people and others. Now that we know a bit about what was going on in the trade that would bring Hugh out to where he would be infamously attacked by a grizzly bear, let's learn a bit about grizzlies themselves. These bears scared the shit out of me as a kid. They still scare me. But they scared me a lot as a kid, mostly because we had this book laying around the

house called Alaska Bear Tales. Account after account of big ass grizzly bears just fucking people up. The following is a little excerpt from a story I first read when I was probably 10 years old. A young couple, husband and wife, named Al and Joyce Thompson, just to illustrate what these bears would do. They were camping out in the Alaskan wilderness back in September of 1972, hunting moose out on the Kenai Peninsula, when a grizzly bear came to say hello at about four in the morning. In Joyce's own words, I was awakened about 4 a.m. by Al whispering into my ear. He had sent something and whispered to me not to move as something might be out there

in camp. I listened, straining to hear a sound which might locate an animal. As I kept watching in the moonlit night, I saw the silhouette of a brown bear move alongside of me. Al did not see the bear from his position. The animal was only inches from me, with just a plastic between us, and it didn't make a sound. It seemed to be moving away.

When all of a sudden, the bear was on top of me. He plunged through the top of our lean to with a bellowing roar. That was Al's first side of the bear. Al grabbed the rifle, but with the impact of the bear, the rifle flew from his grip. For a fraction of a second, the bear appeared confused. As the logs broke in the plastic tore, he stood on his hind legs, towering above us. He was enormous, like

a huge, grey driftwood log. There was no time for Al to locate the.44 revolver. He knew the only way to save me was to immediately distract the bear from me to him. He also reasoned that if he turned his head and searched the revolver, the bear might instinctively go for his neck, thus killing both of us. As the bear dropped to all fours, Al grabbed its head with his left hand and slugged him with his right. Holy shit, that dude just straight up punched fucking grizzly bear in the head. And it will not work out well for him, the bear didn't care for that.

Joyce continued with, the bear grabbed Al's left forearm in his jaws and by standing up pulled Al out of a sleeping bag tossing him through the air. He landed at the foot of the lean-to and a flash the animal was over him. The claws ripped through Al's right side almost penetrating his lung and pinned Al to his chest. His teeth raked along Al's skull and managed to grip the scalp. The bear picked Al up with its mouth and one foreleg and ran on three legs. With Al dangling by his scalp, the bear stood straight up, shaking his head violently like

a cat with a mouse. Al's feet never touched the ground. The bear ran a distance of approximately 25 yards and a large portion of scalp tore loose from Owl's head, causing the bear to momentarily lose his grip. While all this was taking place, I rose, realizing the heavy weight of the animal and the horrible noise was gone. Owl's sleeping bag was lying beside mine, empty. Meanwhile, as Owl was being carried by the bear, he thought, what a hell of a way to die. Then he thought of me, faced with the shock of my having a dead husband miles from anywhere or anyone and having to hike out of there alone.

He became angry, and a strong will to fight for survival overcame him. A brown bear is capable of dragging off a full-grown moose. His strong back legs, or his strong legs and claws, can move boulders and huge hunks of earth. A blow from his paws can break the neck of a moose or another bear. No man could come close to matching his strength. Al realized his only chance was to convince the bear he was dead. When the scalp tore off and the bear momentarily lost his grip, Al fell onto a hump of moss. He grasped the hump with his right arm, holding his face and stomach down, to keep from being

ripped open. Took a deep breath and held perfectly still. The bear cuffed at him, leaving horrible claw marks all along his side and shoulders. He bit into Al's back, twice, while standing over him, looking for a sign of life. There was none. Al's plain dead displayed remarkable self-discipline as the pain was excruciating. Then I heard the bear. He was moving away from me, heading towards cover in the direction of a little lake in the area.

As I stood listening, trying to locate him, I heard Al call to me. He was running towards me, moving closer to him. I could see his knit shirt was torn and he was covered with blood. I'm hurt bad, but I'm going to live, he said. Al's head was very bloody. Half of the skin on his forehead was missing. From the bottom half of his left eyebrow extending back into his hair. Due to all the blood and poor light, I did not notice that part of his scalp was gone.

Al would somehow survive this horrific attack. What a quick-thinking, tough son of a bitch. He enjoys being able to hike to a nearby road, a mile or two away, wave down a motorist who helped them get an ambulance and take out to a hospital. For Hugh Glass, there would be no hospital, and he was attacked more savagely than this. No roads. When the grizzly was finished with Hugh, he was just expected to die out in the wilderness, and he should have. It is crazy he did not die. Grizzly bears are big,

big animals. In the wild, a full grown male living inland away from a steady dye to salmon, weigh about 600 pounds. Some get a lot bigger than that. The largest grizzly bear ever recorded was captured in Alaska in 2013. It weighed an estimated 1,600 pounds, standing over 10 feet tall on his hind legs. That's fucking crazy. A 1600 pound, 10 feet tall bear, capable of running up to 30 miles an hour, powerful enough to bend a fucking rifle into the shape of a boomerang with his claws.

And that's not some random description. A grizzly bear has done exactly that. Thank you again, Alaska Bear Tales. Grizzlies once lived in a most of western North America, not just in Alaska, the population in just the American West between California and the Great Plains when Hugh Glass was alive, was between 50,000 and 100,000 bears. There was that many living there. Lot of bears. But even back then, attacks were rare. They don't attack often. There have only been around 180 fatal bear attacks in North America since the late 1700s. But when they do attack,

it is brutal. Now that we know about both bears and the mountain man trade, let's meet Hugh and explore his epic story of survival. Hugh Glass was born in 1783. He was most likely born in Pennsylvania to Scott Irish parents who immigrated from Northern Ireland. Notoriously tough-ass people and scrappy. We talked about them a long time ago in the Andrew Jackson Suck. Not much is known about Glass' early life. It's possible that he had a wife and children abandoned them to travel west, but that is unverified. According to Clay Landry, a historian at the Mountain Man Museum in little Pine Dale, Wyoming, there are no official records about Glass' birthplace. And you know what?

Good. I like that. I like that this guy's life reads more like a myth larger than life, than it does like the life of your average mortal-ass man sometimes. One of the only, if not the only, source about glass that was published during his lifetime was released in 1825 in a Philadelphia literary journal called The Port Folio. It was written by James E. Hall, Judge and Literary Pioneer of the Midwestern United States. Hall wrote, Whether Old Ireland or Scotch Irish Pennsylvania claims the honor of his

nativity, I have not ascertained with precision. Glass worked as a seaman as a young man, and by 1816, when Glass was around 33, he made it to Texas. And that year he was captured by pirates off the southern coast of Texas. Pirates led by none other than the infamous Jean Le Fait, a French pirate who operated in the Gulf of Mexico and once helped General Andrew Jackson before he became president win the battle of New Orleans that

led to America winning the war of 1812. There's a little bar Lindsey and I love to go to in New Orleans called Lafitte's. I believe Tyler's been there as well. Purple drink baby. And this bar is where Lafitte used to base his smuggling operations. Highly recommend checking it out if you're ever in the French Quarter. Built between 1722 and 1732, it is the oldest structure currently operating as a bar in America. Maybe Hugh Glass once spent some time there. When captured by Lafitte, Glass was told he could either join or die. And the pirates did kill some of the other

pastors on his vessel, including women and children, so he knew they were serious. Glass joined and he would become one of Lafitte's pirates for about a year. And then he and another man decided to make a daring escape. Off the coast to Galveston, Texas, they just jumped overboard, swam far across the water to shore, getting shot at as they did. They were hunted by pirates for the next few months. If caught, they would have been as good as dead. How much of an adventure was just that? Wish we had more records of that.

The two men then headed towards St. Louis, which was the edge of American western civilization back then. For most of their journey, they followed a mighty Mississippi up north, not only being pursued by Lafitte's men, but also trying to avoid dangerous encounters with various tribes. And they did avoid those tribes for about a thousand miles. But then Glass and his partner were captured by some Pawnee warriors. Pawnee warriors, excuse me. And these Pawnee, according to accounts, sometimes practice human sacrifice. And he and his buddy were chosen to meet their maker in that exact way. Glass and his companion were stripped naked and tied to a stake. The

Pony stuck pine slivers into Glass' partner's skin and lit him on fire. He watched him die in excruciating pain. When it was Hughes' turn to be sacrificed, Glass reportedly bowed in front of the Chief and presented a vial of cinnabar, a red mineral used for makeup, pottery, and paint. The Chief was reportedly impressed by this gift and decided not to sacrifice glass, but to instead make him an honorary member of the tribe. And now following either a dine or being a pirate for a while, he was a Pawnee warrior for a while in order to avoid another execution. During his time with the Pawnee, Glass upped his battle game, learned how to

throw a lance, use a tomahawk, and many other tribal practices. While with this tribe, Glass would do real battle, he went to war against another tribe where he killed several warriors and obtained his.54 caliber hawken rifle. It would be his most prized possession for the remainder of his life, as important to him as an ancient warrior's sword was. He used that rifle while still with the Pawnee to kill a grizzly bear, which earned him the tribal nickname of, or name I guess, not nickname, of White Bear. In January of 1823, White Bear, around the age of 40, give or take a year in

either direction, traveled east with the Pawnee chief to meet the U.S. Superintendent of Indian Affairs in St. Louis. After the meeting, Glass left the tribe, deciding to stay in the city. It was here where he came upon an advertisement in the Missouri Gazette. It was an ad placed by General William Henry Ashley, owner of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. And it read, 100 enterprising young men wanted to ascend the River Missouri to its source, there to be employed for one, two, or three years. These men would become known as Ashley's Hundred and Hugh would be one of those hundred. The crew would travel up the Missouri River in long boats all the way to Grand River in South Dakota and then on over to where Yellowstone National Park now lies to Trap Beaver.

The promised salary was 200 bucks a year. How much that will be worth today is very hard to say. Currency calculators don't really do justice to money from that far back. The Rocky Mountain Fur Company had just been established in St. Louis the prior year, 1822. The men who worked for the Rocky Mountain Fur Company were some of the first and most important pioneers of western U.S. exploration, specifically in that greater Green River basin. There were several fur companies in operation at that time, which led to a lot of competition and rivalry. Because of that, trappers would venture deeper and deeper into the vast wilderness of the

West, which led to increased knowledge about the land. William Henry Ashley, the company's co-founder alongside fur trader Andrew Henry, was an important figure in western exploration. He arrived in Missouri in the early 1800s and in 1820, served as the state's first lieutenant governor before he founded the fur trading company. He became known for introducing the rendezvous system in place of traditional trading posts.

A big issue in the fur industry was transport and marketing. Ashley decided to establish an annual rendezvous slash wilderness market where trappers would bring their furs to him and then he could purchase supplies or they could purchase supplies from him. The first rendezvous was held on the Green River in Wyoming in spring of 1825. Refocusing on the company's first expedition now the first crew left St. Louis in April of 1822. Andrew Henry left with the first boat. William Ashley would go with the second. Glass would arrive after they left.

One man in that first expedition reportedly fell overboard and drowned the very first day, and then three men died when someone lit their pipe near a pile of explosives. But otherwise, you know, other than one dude drowning and three others getting blown the fuck up, pretty smooth sailing. September of 1822 Andrew Henry arrived at the mouth of the Yellowstone River and built Fort Henry. Ashley arrived October 1st, then returned to St. Louis to get more men. Second expedition would leave St. Louis March 7th, 1823, and that crew would include Hugh

Glass. Some of what we know about Hugh Glass comes from his friend who also worked for Ashley for a time, contemporary trapper George Yonk. Yonk's nephew, Harry, will be the first game warden of Yellowstone. And the city of Yonville, California is named after him. Yon described Glass as reckless and eccentric to a high degree. I love it. Do was known as a wild man, even amongst other wild men. In early May of 1823, Henry sent trapper Jedidiah Smith down river to give a message to General Ashley requesting horses and supplies. Is there a better first name for an old timey fur trapper than Jedidiah?

I don't think so. Jedidiah was a famous trader and explorer who was the first American to enter California from the east and then return using an overland route. In early June of 1823, these fur traders encountered a bit of trouble in what is now South Dakota. 15 of Ashley's men were killed by Erika Erika warriors. The Erika, this attack will become known as the Sandbar massacre, massacre of 1823. And it'll earn Hugh Glass the ire of the Erykora for the rest of his days. The attack occurred at an Erykora village where Ashley's men had wanted to trade gunpowder for horses. One of the trappers was killed in some argument over a woman.

Who knows what the hell he did. Maybe he was an asshole, maybe he disrespected her, maybe he was just a big misunderstanding. Whatever happened, in the morning, the Erykora attacked Ashley's men, Glass reportedly killed one tribal member and was shot in the leg during the fight before he made his escape. One of the many serious injuries he would survive out in the wilderness, far from any doctors. After the attack, General Ashley sent Jedidiah back upriver to retrieve Henry and his men. Go Jedidiah, go! Fly like the wind, you hillbilly motherfucker! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Andrew Henry, and a smaller group of trappers, split up from Ashley and traveled towards the Yellowstone River.

Glass will join him. Glass also wrote a letter to the parents of John S. Gardner, who was killed in that battle in 1823, that June 2nd massacre. The letter reads, Dear sir, my painful duty is to tell you of the death of your son, who befell at the hands of the Indians 2nd June in the early morning. He died a little while after he was shot and asked me to inform you of his sad fate. We brought him to the ship when he soon died. Mr. Smith, a young man of our company, made a powerful prayer. Who moved us all greatly and I'm persuaded John died in his peace.

His body we buried with others near the camp and marked the grave with the log. died in his peace. His body we buried with others near the camp and mocked the grave with the log. His things we will send you. The savages are greatly treacherous. We traded with him as friends, but after a great storm of rain and thunder, they came at us before light and many were hurt. I myself was shot in the leg. Master Ashley is bound to stay at these parts till the traitors are rightly punished. And then, I don't know why are one acronym OBT is another one SFT your something servant Hugh Glass. Glass was reportedly illiterate. Real men don't fucking need weak ass words right to survive. So someone else more than likely wrote the letter for him. General Ashley sent word to the authorities

about the attack. Colonel Henry Leavenworth sent 240 soldiers from Fort Atkinson near modern-day Fort Calhoun, Nebraska. Fort Atkinson was the first military post west of the Missouri. In August of 1823, Leavenworth and his soldiers, along with fur trappers and members of the Sioux tribe, arrived to retaliate against the Erykora and what became known as the Erykora War. The siege would last from August 9 to the 12, 1823 and end with a negotiation where the Erykora abandoned their village. It's unknown how many Erykora warriors died but their leader, Chief Grey Eyes, was killed. Two Missouri fur company trappers would burn down the village the next morning. On August 16, 1823, Andrew Henry led a group of 30 men, including Glass, up the Grand River,

to return to Fort Henry at the mouth of the Yellowstone. Ashley would then head down river to Fort Kiowa in South Dakota. On August 20th, 1823, Henry's group was attacked by the Mandan tribe on the Grand River. Two men were killed. So many battles. And then just three days later, August 23rd, Hugh Glass would have his fateful encounter with mama, don't you fuck with my babies, grizzly bear. Before I share the details of that attack, this feels like the best spot

for today's mid-show sponsor break. If you don't want to hear these ads, you can sign up for our Patreon, become a space loser for five bucks a month, and get the entire catalog ad-free and more. And I'm back, and now get ready for a story of an epic bear attack and a more epic survival that follows. Glass was attacked in the present day of Little Town of Lemons, South Dakota. George Jant later recalled of the day of the attack, Glass, as was usual, could not be kept in obedience to the orders, with the band but preserved to thread his way alone through the bushes.

Fucking wild car! Nobody puts baby in a corner! And nobody smart gives Hugh Glass orders and actually expects him to follow them. The reasons on why Glass separated from the group differ, one source says that glass was sent out to hunt and didn't disobey orders. Another source says that glass and another party member were just out looking for some wild fruit. Third source says that Henry sent out two men, told everyone else to stay put, but glass was like, nah, fuck that. Just flat refused to listen because he didn't care for being told what to do. What happened next varies across sources, but we do know that out in the bush, glass

stumbled in between a mother grizzly and her two cups. And that is, that is not good. Cause then mama bear went full fucking mama bear. Several group members reported hearing glass screaming as he was attacked. Uh, yeah, I bet I'm blown away by accounts like the one we, uh, went over from Alaska bear tales of people being mauled by a bear and not screaming. Uh, back in glasses time, they didn't know that your best chance for survival was to play dead.

Glass, it seems, chose the strategy of brawling with the Grizzly. And of course, that wouldn't work out for him too well. Some sources say that Glass did manage to get a shot in, and maybe a few knife wounds as well, but the Grizzly continued to attack him. At one point, Glass ran over to a tree to try and climb it and escape, but that was not going to happen. The bear so much faster than a man, grabbed him as he climbed and then threw him to the ground. It tore a chunk of meat out of his body large enough to give to the cubs for some food. That's intense. Mama Bear raked her claws

down, he was back, bit him on top of the head Tearing off some of his scalp. She just shook him around like a rag doll at one point glass was able to somehow slash the bear with his Knife and then she slashed him back tore his throat open badly enough to prevent him from being able to continue to yell And then mama bear would die from her injuries No one knows that she died from the wounds Glass gave Mama Bear or was killed by the some hunters who heard him screaming. I'd like to believe that Glass killed her because he's such a badass. In the 1825 edition of the portfolio, J.E. Hall would write the following about the attack. The rifle of Hugh Glass being esteemed as among the most unerring. He was on one occasion detached for supplies. He was a one occasion detached for supplies.

He was a short distance in advance of the party, and fortune his way through a thicket when a white bear that had embedded herself in the sand arose within three yards of him. And before he could set his triggers or turn to retreat, he was seized by the throat and raised from the ground. Casting him again upon the earth, his grim adversary tore out a mouthful of the cannibal food, which had excited her appetite, and retired to submit the sample

to her yearling cubs, which were near at hand. The sufferer now made an effort to escape, but the bear immediately returned with a reinforcement, and seized him again at the shoulder. She also lacerated his left arm very much, and inflicted a severe wound on the back of his head. In this second attack, the Cubs were prevented from participating by one of the party who had rushed forward to the relief of his comrade. One of the Cubs, however, forced the newcomer to retreat into the river, where, standing to the middle in water, he gave his foe a mortal shot, or to use his own language, a

burst of armament. Meantime, the main body of trappers having arrived advanced to the relief of Glass and delivered seven or eight shots with such unerring aim as to terminate hostilities by dispatching the bear as she stood over her victim. Oh, so, you know, so maybe Hugh didn't kill the bear in a man to bear close combat fight, or maybe he did. And those seven or eight extra shots were just overkill. Also varmint is a word that really doesn't get used enough these days.

We need to bring it back. I think I need to start referring to my dogs, Penny and Gigi, as varmints. They are definitely varmint-ish. George John said about Glass's injuries the monster had torn the flesh from the lower part of the body and from the lower limbs. He also had his neck shockingly torn even to the degree that an aperture appeared to have been made in the windpipe. His breath to exude at the side of his neck. Blood flowed freely but fortunately no bone was broken and his hands and arms were not disabled. The other trappers attempted to tend to Glass's wounds, using some pieces of dirty fabric torn

from their own clothing that they were wearing. It's probably not quite the cleanest bandages. Just pieces from, I don't know, fucking old dirty shirts. Fur trappers have been wearing out in the woods for week after week. Next morning, members of the group carried Glass on a litter, a portable bed, think of a stretcher made from branches, but he was slowing them down significantly and they knew they were in hostile tribal territory and were greatly concerned about more attacks from local tribes.

They also assumed that he was as good as dead. Andrew Henry now offered somewhere between $80 and $300, sources vary, to any two men who would stay with glass until he died. Give him a proper burial and then meet them at their next stop. A man named John Fitzgerald and a teenage boy listed in sources only as Bridges stayed behind with glass. And Bridges is actually not thought by most people who have studied this to be the famous fellow mountain man Jim Bridger.

One of many places where the real story and the Hollywood version diverge. Well, these two yahoo stayed behind with glass for the next five days. Five days in which glass never spoke. Five days of, you know, watching him steadily die from his wounds or so it seemed. Glass would later claim he was not heard as badly as it looked, and that he overheard the two talking. Said he heard John say that no one expected him to live, and no one would want them to stay behind if he was just going to die anyway. So how about they get their promised money and just leave Glass where he lay? They left Glass next to a stream under a berry bush.

Before leaving, they took his rifle, knife, tomahawk, and flint, assuming he was not going to need any of that anyway since he'd be dead soon enough. The pair reunited with the rest of the group six days after Glass was attacked, reporting that they'd watched him die from his wounds. They displayed Glass' belongings as proof of his death, and they received their reward. Fitzgerald then expressed his wish to return to St. Louis, and after receiving his payment, he left the party and headed out. Glass meanwhile, lay by the stream for about ten days, eating nothing,

sipping a bit of water from the stream. He stayed warm enough to live, barely, thanks to a bear hide his companions had draped over his body. Once Glass was able to move a bit, the years he'd spent out in the wilderness, far from any civilization, saved his life. He ate anything he could find, including insects, berries, and animal carcasses. He'd learned a lot about what he could eat out in the wilderness from his time with the Pawnee, and he'd already known a lot about what to do to survive before his time with the tribe from his other experiences out in the wild. Still, Glass knew that due to his severe wounds, he would need to find help pretty soon if

he wanted to live more than a few weeks. Someone would need to dress and clean his wounds. Finding someone not going to be easy. He was completely alone, severely injured, had almost no weapons or supplies with him. And the nearest fort, Fort Kiowa in South Dakota was about 200 miles away. That's a that sucks. He was so beat up, he began his journey to that fort by literally crawling on his hands and knees. And it wasn't like he was crawling along some smooth surface either.

He wasn't crawling along some nice thick soft carpet. Wasn't crawling down a flat paved road. Wasn't even crawling along a well maintained trail. No, he was crawling across the damn wilderness. Crawling past thorny bushes, over rocks. Crawling over fallen logs, across streams. Eventually he was able to make a rudimentary crutch out of a tree branch to help himself along, and he could walk upright, and he would walk so far.

His trek would be long, grueling, agonizing. He likely would not have made it out alive if it wasn't for his anger. His rage, quote, provided the vitalizing will to live. According to the 1939 book, The Oregon Trail, vengeance was his primary motivation, vengeance against those who had left him to die. And he also wanted that prized rifle back. That dude fucking loved that gun.

A glass nearly starved to death before he came upon a pack of wolves killing a buffalo calf. He waited until they killed the beast, ate what they wanted then left Then once they were gone, Hugh, you know wandered over and just ate the calves raw scraps Which sustained him just long enough to continue walking. It's fucking crazy Would you be willing to do all that to live? Oh?

I don't know if I don't know if I could late September glass reached the burned a ricka village Where he and the other trappers were attacked at the beginning of their expedition. And there he found some leftover, not quite rotten corn to eat. Soon after that, a party of Sue found him, and luckily did not kill him. They took pity on him. They brought him back to their village, a trip that would take three full days. In that Sue village, some women nursed Glass back to health. They cleaned maggots out of him. Maggots that were already feeding on some of his infected wounds.

They cleaned out the infection, cauterized and cleaned his wounds. How the fuck was he still alive? A deep thirst for revenge mostly was sustaining him. The Sioux helped him reach Fort Kiowa in October. He arrived no later than the 11th, 49 days, exactly 7 weeks after his brutal attack. He'd done it. He'd survived. His health was returning.

Soon after Glass arrived, the Fort's Chief Trader, Joseph Brazzo, sent a six-man party from the Fort to some Mandan tribal villages, and Glass volunteered to join him. And on November 15, three months after his bare attack, Glass is fighting again. His party was attacked, many of his men killed by some Erykora near the Mandan villages. Luckily for him, Glass left the group just before the attack and escaped to Fort Tilton, near modern-day Bismarck, North Dakota. Allegedly, William Tilton from the Columbia Fur Company agreed to outfit Glass if he promised to leave his fort as soon as possible.

Everyone was worried about another Erykora attack if he stayed, since the tribe seemed to have it out for him. Glass left Fort Tilden around November 20th, then traveled alone up the Missouri, heading towards Fort Henry, where he knew the fur trapping party would be. Damn, would you want to travel alone through more grizzly bear country? After going through what he just went through three months prior, he wanted to find those fuckers who left him so badly. Glass left on foot for Fort Henry. Dude was going to hoof it. The journey would take him another month, during which he lived off the land and traveled without a proper map.

He arrived at Fort Henry along the Yellowstone River, December 5, 1823. Dude was just walking through the snow, I guess, for weeks, without a decent map. This shit is insane. I would have already died about 45 different times in the story. Glass was finally ready to enact his revenge. But no one was home. At the fort he found a note painted on a wall indicating that the group had moved upstream to the mouth of the Big Horn River.

Son of a bitch! The fort had been abandoned. Glass will reach the new Fort Henry on the big horn around New Year's, 1824. And upon his arrival, he announced that he was looking for Fitzgerald and Bridges. And he found one of them. When young Bridges laid eyes on Glass, he thought he was seeing a ghost. Hugh Glass, my oh my, had he waited for this moment for a long long time. He slowly, steadily, as Bridges eyes bulged out of his head, took off his clothes, stripping himself naked. Then he placed a bear skull over his own skull and roared, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH from the creature who'd scarred him and embodying the ferocious spirit of the great beast. He attacked, he slapped young bridges to the ground with one mighty swat of his hand-paw claw thing,

and then he bit down on the bridge's scalp with his bear jaw somehow, and he stood up straight, dangling, bridges body beneath his bite, and he swung him from side to side like the animal he'd become. He broke the man's neck, and then he punched fucking hand-paw claw thing into his chest, and he ripped out his heart heart and he proceeded to eat it Finally covered in blood. He screamed vengeance is mine. I am the revenant. I am the reckoning No, sorry now. I wasn't ever that dramatic. I've been fucking dope though Actually according to most sources glass after talking to the kid a bit he forgave bridges Because of his youth know when it was Fitzgerald that had talked him into abandoning him.

According to the account of Philip St. George Cook, when their conversation was over, Glass said, go my boy, I leave you to the punishment of your own conscience and your God. If they forgive you, then be happy. I have nothing to say to you. Okay, alright, so you know, wasn't quite what I hoped, but whatever. Glass did learn the bridges from bridges, you know, that Fitzgerald had left to join the army and was currently stationed at Fort Atkinson in Wisconsin. So Glass now makes plans to enact revenge upon him.

Stayed for over a month, gathered more strength and supplies, waited out some storms and then set out to pursue Fitzgerald, leaving Fort Henry February 29th, 1824. He joined a party of four men who were heading to Fort Atkinson. In April of 1824, the group encountered, damn it, another band of a rick-a-rock on the Platt River. They invited the men into their home, although they appeared friendly. It was a setup. Their chief had been killed by trappers the previous year, chief Gray Eyes, and they wanted revenge.

Two white men were killed, but Glass, the guy they really wanted dead, fought his way out and escaped. He survived again, of course he did. How many damn attacks has this dude survived? How many did we not even know about? Glass was now alone again, and he'd lost his gun, leaving him with nothing more than his flint and his knife.

Perfect, he's a crazy-ass mountain man on a path of vengeance, badly scarred up from a recent grizzly bear entanglement, walking without a horse through the woods with just the clothes he's wearing and a big-ass knife in his hand. Imagine running into that dude. Out in the woods. That's like a horror movie. Hugh did not let his predicament phase him, reportedly saying later, these little fictions, meaning his knife and some flint, make a man feel a rot-pert when he's three, four hundred miles from anybody or anywhere. Awesome. Hugh made it back to Fort Kiowa in June of 1824. Then two weeks later, he made it to Fort Atkinson with murder on his mind. When Captain Bennett Riley,

the man in charge of the fort, learned of Glass's intentions, he told him if he killed any of his soldiers, including Fitzgerald, he would be quickly hanged. Unfortunately for Glass, John Fitzgerald had enlisted in the army back in April and signed a five-year contract. But Glass didn't give a shit. He traveled too far to stop now, no military order would keep him from his vengeance. He slowly and steadily, as Fitzgerald's eyes bulged out of his head, took off his clothes, stripping naked. And then he placed a bear skull over his own skull and he roared, ahhhh! He slipped his hands into preserved bear paws. He kept from the creature, scarred him and embodied in the ferocious spirit of the great

grizzly the beast he attacked. He slapped young Fitzgerald to the ground with one mighty swat of his hand- hand Paul claw things and then uh Wait, no, sorry. I already told that exact same bullshit story earlier tonight about five minutes ago. No sadly anti-climatically He really didn't do shit After all he went through there were just too many other soldiers around keeping Fitzgerald safe Riley offered to retrieve glasses prized rifle from John Fitzgerald to appease him some stories say he forgave Fitzgerald safe. Riley offered to retrieve Glass's prized rifle from John Fitzgerald to appease him. Some stories say he forgave Fitzgerald, just as he did Bridger. J. E. Hall wrote about Glass's arrival at Atkinson saying, he found his old traitorous acquaintance in the garb of a

private soldier. This shielded the delinquent from chastisement. The commanding officer at the post ordered his rifle to be restored, and this appeased the wrath of Hugh Glass. Maybe he just really wanted that rifle. Glass allegedly warned Fitzgerald that if he were to ever leave the army and Hugh were to find him, he would be as good as dead. That nearly as dramatic as the Hollywood version where Hugh battles Fitzgerald and hands him over to the Erykara who scalp and kill him, right? Still, pretty fucking crazy that he was able to track down both of those dudes and at least speak his mind

and make his peace. According to glasses contemporary George Yant, he was paid 300 bucks at Fort Atkinson is a compensation for his misfortune. And he took that money to head west and search, of course, of more adventures. In the summer of 1824, he'd become a partner in a trading venture on the Santa Fe trail. Once he got to Santa Fe, he partnered up with another guy, Frenchman named Debrae, and they began trading and trapping on the Gila River.

Year later, Glass relocated to Towson, New Mexico. From 1825 to 1826, Glass led a trading party into Utah country. In 1825, he was wounded by the Shoshone in yet another battle. Glass was out trapping one day when he saw a lone woman on the riverbank. Excuse me, he and his men startled her and she screamed, which alerted Shoshone warriors who were nearby. Seconds later, arrows are flying through the air at Hugh and his group. One man is killed almost immediately. Glass is shot in the back.

Glass and his remaining group now travel 700 miles back to Taos, a journey that took weeks, and Hugh made the journey with a fucking arrowhead, stuck in him the entire time. He probably didn't even complain. That wound wasn't shit compared to his bear attack wounds. What were a few more maggots? Once in Taos, the trapper used a straight razor to cut the arrowhead out of him. He probably gave him some whiskey for anesthetic, maybe a stick to bite down on so he wouldn't scream out, or maybe he just gritted his teeth

Glass spent a few months recuperating in Taos And then he was back out in the wilderness Joining up with a group of trappers heading all the way to the Yellowstone River that flows through present-day North Dakota, Montana and Wyoming He bounced around in the wild for a few years disappearing from the history books next, uh, you know, moment that Hugh Glass shows up at, or next event, or he shows up in the books, is at the 1828 fur trap around to Bear Lake, which straddles the border of Idaho and Utah, not far from Wyoming. When Glass left, he was heading to Fort Floyd, also known as Fort Union, near the mouth of the Yellowstone

River, home base of the American fur company. This fort was just a few miles from the old Fort Henry. Glass' movements in 1829 are unconfirmed, but he likely attended the 1829 Pierre's Hole Rendezvous in eastern Idaho. By spring of 1830, Glass was trapping and hunting on the upper Missouri River near Fort Union. He just bounced all over the place. Probably walking to these places. According to a historian named H. M. Chittenden, Glass harvested so many bighorn sheep that the area became known as Glass Bluffs. An 1874 map of Montana Territory showed that the bluffs near the mouth of the Yellowstone were still called the Glass Bluffs at that time. The American fur company Ledger Book contains entries for Hugh Glass which show that he traded furs at Fort Union from 1831 to 1833. By the winter of 1832 to 1833 the now 49 year old Glass was living at Fort Cass near the junction of the Yellowstone and Bighorn rivers working as a hunter procuring meat for

trappers with the American fur company. In the spring of 1833 Glass and two others left the fort to trap beaver. He and his companions thought they were in safe territory, but they were soon attacked by a group of candy-yes, a rick-a-roa. And it seems some warriors who had long wanted Glass dead finally got what they wanted. Some accounts state that all three men were murdered, but that outcome is not totally certain. James P. Beckworth, a former employee of General William Ashley, stated that he was at forecast in 1833 and found three bodies on the ice.

However, his story doesn't match other accounts from the time. Beckworth wrote about the alleged burial, We returned together and buried the three men amid the most terrible scenes that I had ever witnessed. The crying was truly appalling. The three men were well known and highly esteemed by the Crow. When their bodies were lowered to their last resting place, numberless fingers were voluntarily chopped off and thrown into the graves. Hair and trinkets of every description were also contributed and the graves were finally filled

up. The fuck? I looked into this. Some crow bands would actually sometimes cut off a portion of their finger at a funeral ritual to pay respects to loved ones. That's wild. So glad we did not have that tradition in this culture. I am not slicing off a bit of my finger for anybody. I would really like to keep all of my fingers for as long as I can. In another version of events, a man named Edmund Flag wrote that some of the Erykara encountered a group of trappers by the Powder River who allowed them to sit by their fire. And those trappers saw that these warriors had

glasses rifle and the murdered trappers clothing. Flag wrote, as to Hugh Glass, he was never again heard of and doubtless fell a victim at least after a hundred escapes and warnings to his own wild temerity. Temerity means reckless boldness. Wild reckless boldness. Yeah, guess that fits. Hew glass! Never exacted his revenge for the infamous grizzly bear attack that led to Hollywood making a damn good movie about it all, but he sure as hell lived a wild and adventurous life. Might not be the life I'd choose, but it was certainly the life that Glass chose. The man truly lived wild and free, away from the comforts of civilization, but also away from its trappings and confinements. Nature was his master, and not the laws of men.

Glass's incredible survival story and his countless brushes with death have memorialized his story, leading to countless retellings of the life of a legendary hero of the Wild West. One of the original frontiersmen, and the best damn embodiment of a true mountain man that I'm aware of. I hope my version of his story did his life justice. A lot more men will live fascinating lives on this here floating space rock, but none of them will ever again live a life, quite like the life of Hugh Glass. Audio's, Cowboys and Cowgirls.

Happy trails. That's it for this edition of Time Sucks short sucks. If you enjoyed this story, check out the rest of the Bad Magic catalog. Be for your episodes of Time Suck every Monday at noon Pacific. And new episodes of the now long running Paranormal Podcast scared to death every Tuesday at midnight. Thank you to Olivia Lee for the initial research, and thank you to the Suck Ranger, Tyler C., recording and uploading today's episode. Please go to badmagicproductions.com

for all your bad magic needs, and have yourself a great weekend. Thanks for watching guys!