This Guy Was MAULED BY A BEAR and Crawled 200 Miles for Revenge

You might remember the Oscar-winning film The Revenant, where Leonardo DiCaprio plays Hugh Glass, a fur trapper who gets mauled by a bear and left for dead in the wilderness. But let me tell you, that's just the tip of the iceberg. This dude's life was a never-ending shitshow of pirate adventures, Native American captivities, and bear attacks—because why settle for just one near-death experience when you can have a whole lifetime of them? Hugh Glass was the human equivalent of a cockroach—nothing could kill him, no matter how hard the universe tried. He got his face ripped off by a bear, crawled 200 miles through hostile territory, and still managed to show up at his betrayers' doorstep like, “Hey, remember me? I'm not dead yet, motherfucker.” So, strap in, because this guy's life story is about to make your wildest “I survived a crazy weekend” story sound like child’s play.

The Early Life of a Soon-To-Be Legend (Or, How to Fail Upward Until You're Fighting Bears)

Hugh Glass entered this world somewhere around 1783 in Pennsylvania, born to Irish parents who probably had no idea their son would one day become the human equivalent of a Timex—takes a licking and keeps on ticking, baby. Like most legendary badasses throughout history, we know almost nothing about his early life, because record-keeping wasn't a big priority when people were busy trying not to die of dysentery or get scalped while taking a dump in the woods.

So, here's what we know about Hugh Glass before he became America's most infamous mountain man: the dude was allegedly a pirate. I mean, why the hell not? According to some accounts, Glass sailed with the infamous Jean Lafitte, terrorizing ships in the Gulf of Mexico like a discount Jack Sparrow on steroids. Now, picture this: Hugh Glass, the guy who'd later get his face ripped off by a bear, swinging from ropes like a total boss, screaming some pirate nonsense. It's like the universe was just throwing every goddamn crazy scenario at him, and he's just over here like, "Yeah, sure, bring it on." I mean, if God was writing this guy's story, He must have had a sick sense of humor and a hard-on for drama—because who else could survive being a pirate, a captive, and a bear's chew toy? And let's be real, just surviving the early 1800s was a feat in itself. Glass was basically the ultimate test subject for “How Much Shit Can One Human Survive."

But Glass's pirate career was short lived and came to an abrupt end when he either "escaped" or "was forcibly removed from piracy by circumstance"—history is unclear, but I'm betting it wasn't a polite resignation letter and two weeks' notice. After that, in a plot twist that would make M. Night Shyamalan slow-clap in appreciation, Glass was then captured by the Pawnee tribe.

Now, getting kidnapped by Native Americans in the early 1800s wasn't exactly a career move most people would brag about. But Hugh Glass, being the ultimate wild card, somehow turned this whole kidnapping thing into a weird kind of cultural exchange program. He lived with the Pawnee for years, becoming an honorary member of the tribe, taking a Native American wife, and even going to war alongside them—because why not? It's not like his life was already complicated enough. Glass basically got a crash course in wilderness survival and tribal politics, and he took it to the next level by becoming part of the family.

Surviving the Uncharted West

By 1823, Glass had decided that piracy and being a captive weren't quite dangerous enough for his tastes, so he signed up with General William Henry Ashley's expedition to trap beavers along the Missouri River. This was part of Ashley's "Hundred"—a group of tough-as-nails men who were basically volunteering for a death wish in the name of fancy hats for rich Europeans. Who would never know or care about the absolute hell these men went through just so they could look fancy while eating their crumpets.

The fur trade in the 1820s wasn't exactly OSHA-compliant. You were basically signing up to canoe through rapids, fight hostile tribes, survive starvation, avoid hypothermia, and kill thousands of beavers by hand—all while your boss raked in the cash and left you with a lifetime supply of scars and bad memories. It was the ultimate shit deal—you got to enjoy the thrill of possibly dying everyday, AND low pay. Doesn’t get better than that!

Glass joined Major Andrew Henry's party as they were headed toward the Yellowstone River. The expedition had already been attacked once by Arikara warriors, leaving Glass with a minor wound. But apparently almost being killed once on the trip wasn't enough for our man Hugh. He needed to up the ante.

Enter: one very pissed-off bear.

The Bear Attack (Or, When Mother Nature Decides You Need a Full Body Redesign)

Here's where things go from wild to completely batshit. In August 1823, near present-day Lemmon, South Dakota, Glass was scouting ahead of the main party. Some accounts say he was hunting for dinner, others claim he disobeyed orders and went rogue. Either way, the next part is like trying to get a straight story from a politician—everybody's got a different version. But one thing's for sure: what happened next was pure chaos.

According to one account, Glass surprised a "white bear" (as grizzlies were often called then) just three yards away. Before he could even raise his rifle, the bear "seized him by the throat and raised him from the ground". Another version claims Glass shot and wounded a female grizzly with cubs, which, if true, means Hugh Glass made perhaps the worst decision in the history of the American West. You never piss off momma bear!

The attack itself was brutal in a way that makes the Saw movies look like Teletubbies. The grizzly—likely a sow with cubs—tore into Glass like he was a piñata. She raked her six-inch claws across his throat, shredded his scalp down to the bone, bit him on the back of the neck and shook him like a dog with a chew toy. By the time his companions reached him (having heard shots and what I can only assume were the most terrifying screams you never want to hear), Glass had been "tore nearly all to peases," as one mountain man elegantly put it.

Hugh’s wounds were a goddamn nightmare: deep lacerations across his scalp, face, chest, back, shoulder, arm, hand, and thigh. He had a broken leg, which he somehow managed to set himself—goddamn, could you imagine? The answer should be “No”. His throat was punctured, with blood bubbling out with every labored breath. His back was shredded, with gashes so deep they exposed his bare ribs. His neck was torn open, with an actual hole in his windpipe, making every breath a miracle. And yet, despite looking like he'd been put through a meat grinder, Glass somehow managed to crawl out the other side. Nothing could stop him, not even a bear's best efforts to turn him into a human piñata.

His fellow trappers managed to kill the bear—though some accounts claim Glass himself delivered the fatal shot, which, if true, just cements legendary status. They wrapped Hugh's wounds with torn strips of their filthy mountain man clothes and rawhide, basically inviting every bacteria in the forest to come on and play. We all know how well infections worked out in the 1800s—spoiler alert: not great. As for stitches? No chance. This dude's body was basically left wide open, held together with rawhide and dirty bandages. You know, just hoping for the best while expecting the worst kinda thing.

The "We're Just Gonna Go Ahead and Leave You to Die" Part

To everyone's shock—especially Glass's—he didn't die right away. In fact, he was still breathing the next morning, albeit weakly through his slashed throat. His buddies threw him on a makeshift stretcher and started hauling him west through some seriously rough terrain.

After a few days (or a week, depending on who you ask) of carrying a barely-alive Hugh Glass through hostile territory, expedition leader Andrew Henry made a decision that was either super practical or just plain dickish. He told the guys they couldn't keep slowing down for a dude who was basically dead already. The Arikara were on the warpath, winter was coming, and they needed to move faster.

So Henry offered a sweet deal to any two men who would stick around until Glass kicked the bucket, bury him properly, and then catch up with the rest of the crew. The pay was either $80 or $400, depending on the account—either way, it was like hitting the jackpot in 1823 dollars. Two guys stepped up: John Fitzgerald, a seasoned frontiersman with dollar signs in his eyes, and 19-year-old Jim Bridger, who would later become a legend but at this point was just a teenager making some questionable life choices.

We don't know exactly how long Fitzgerald and Bridger stuck around, but we do know they didn't wait long enough. At some point, they decided watching a guy slowly die was boring and creepy, so they did what any respectable 19th-century frontiersmen would do—they stole all his shit and bailed.

These two fine gentlemen swiped Glass's rifle, knife, flint, and all other survival tools—basically his entire "don't die in the woods" kit—placed him in a shallow grave, covered him in rawhide, and then caught up with Major Henry's party, telling everyone that poor old Hugh had finally bitten the dust. It was kinda like saying “Yeah, I'll totally feed your cat while you're on vacation” and then just letting the poor little thing starve—except instead of a cat, it was a half-dead Hugh Glass left to rot.

The World's Most Motivated Crawl (Or, How to Turn into a Human Roomba Fueled by Pure Rage)

Here's where this story goes from "wow, that sucks" to "holy shit, is this guy even human?" Because Hugh Glass did not, in fact, die. Instead, he woke up alone, unarmed, three quarters dead, and absolutely fucking furious.

According to legend, Glass's first conscious act was to set the broken leg that the bear had given him. Just pause and think about that for a second. This man reset his own broken leg without anesthesia, without help, while also dealing with wounds that would have made most of us just lie back and practice our death rattle.

Glass couldn't walk, but he could crawl. And crawl he did. His immediate goal wasn't to get back to civilization—it was to find Fitzgerald and Bridger and murder the ever-loving shit out of them. Revenge wasn't just a dish best served cold; it was the only food on Glass's menu.

But first, he had to survive. Without weapons, Glass had to get creative with his food sources. He pulled buffalo berries from a bush, crushed them, mixed them with water, and painstakingly worked them down his damaged throat. The next day, a fat rattlesnake slithered near him—which would have made most people scream and somehow crawl faster—but Glass killed it with a rock, then scraped and pounded the raw meat to make it edible. Wasn’t 5-stars, but it kept him alive.

As his strength slowly returned, Glass began the 200-mile crawl toward Fort Kiowa. He used the stars for navigation and Thunder Butte (a real big hill, able to be seen from miles) as a landmark. At one point during his journey, Glass came across wolves in the process of killing a buffalo calf. Instead of trying to scare them off, he waited until the pack had their fill. Under the cover of night, he managed to claim half of the carcass for himself. He spent days drying strips of the buffalo meat, which gave him enough strength to eventually stand, and then stagger forward on two feet, rather than crawl.

But that wasn't the only close call he had. Glass narrowly escaped a buffalo stampede, dodged hostile Native American tribes, and even survived a bout of maggots infesting his wounds. He wrapped himself in the bear's hide, which was meant to be his burial shroud, and kept moving. At times, he had to cross icy rivers, which nearly killed him, multiple times, but he persisted. The desire for revenge was stronger than his pain.

Let me put this in perspective: This dude had a throat wound that looked like a baseball had been lodged in his neck, a broken leg that was probably set by himself with nothing but a few choice curses and a rock, and chunks of flesh missing like he'd been used as a chew toy by a pack of rabid wolverines. His ribs were exposed, giving him a skeletal vibe that would make a Halloween prop jealous. And yet, despite being a walking anatomy lesson, he managed to snag a meal from a pack of wolves—because who needs a five-star restaurant when you can dine on raw buffalo meat under the stars? I mean, sorry Bear Grylls, you don't have shit on my guy Hugh. This dude was the ultimate survival machine—nothing could stop him, not even a bear's best efforts to turn him into a human pinata. He’s the definition of “I’m gonna make it out of this alive, even if it kills me."

The Revenge Tour That Wasn't (Or, How to Spend Six Weeks Plotting Murder Only to Say "Meh, It's Cool")

After six weeks of crawling through the wilderness like a wounded animal, limping on a broken leg, and probably cursing the universe with every painful step, Glass finally stumbled into Fort Kiowa near present-day Chamberlain, South Dakota. He looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back—his face was a mess of scars, his body a canvas of cuts and bruises, and his eyes burned with a desire for revenge that could melt steel. He recovered there, nursing his wounds and plotting his next move.

Glass's revenge tour first led him to Fort Henry on the Yellowstone, where he found a very surprised Jim Bridger. Picture this: You've left a man for dead, stolen his shit, and lied to everyone about it. Then one day he just shows up at your door looking like the main character of a “1000 ways to die in the woods” movie. Bridger's eyes probably widened like a deer in headlights as Glass stood before him, his presence as imposing as a ghost risen from the dead. Bridger probably needed a change of underwear—and a new pair of pants, because he shit himself for sure. I mean, who wouldn't when the guy you left to die shows up weeks later, ALIVE, and somehow looking worse than when you left him.

But here's where the story takes yet another unexpected turn. Instead of killing Bridger on the spot, Glass forgave him. Why? Because Bridger was only 19 years old at the time—a kid who probably didn't know any better than to follow the lead of a seasoned scumbag like Fitzgerald. I imagine Bridger standing there, nodding gratefully while simultaneously trying not to make eye contact with the man whose knife and gun he'd stolen while he was dying. It was like looking into the eyes of a man who'd seen the depths of hell and come back to haunt you.

What should’ve happened:

As for Fitzgerald, accounts differ. Some say Glass forgave him too. Others say he couldn't get to him because Fitzgerald had joined the U.S. Army at Fort Atkinson, which would have made killing him a federal offense. Given the choice between murder and paperwork, Glass apparently chose to avoid the paperwork—because who needs that kind of hassle when you've already survived a bear attack and crawled 200 miles through the wilderness? That’s like choosing between a root canal and a punch in the face—neither sounds fun, but one's definitely less painful.

The "Maybe I Should Stop Pissing Off Native Americans" Phase (Spoiler: He Did Not)

You'd think after surviving a bear attack and a 200-mile crawl through the wilderness, Hugh Glass might consider a career change. Perhaps something indoor-based, like accounting or haberdashery. But no, Glass went right back to being a fur trapper, because apparently nearly dying once wasn't enough for this adrenaline junkie.

For the next decade, Glass continued working as a fur trapper in the Upper Missouri River region, having all sorts of adventures that probably seemed boring to him after the whole bear incident. He worked for the Rocky Mountain Fur Company and later for himself, exploring regions that would later become Montana, the Dakotas, and Nebraska.

During this time, Glass's relationships with various Native American tribes were, to put it mildly, complicated. He traded and hunted with them, got attacked by them, attacked them back, and generally maintained a love-hate relationship with pretty much every tribe in the region. It was like the worst kind of on-again, off-again relationship, except instead of angry texts, there were arrows and musket balls.

In 1833, Glass's luck finally ran out. He and another trapper were killed by Arikara warriors along the Yellowstone River. After surviving pirates, a grizzly bear mauling, a 200-mile crawl through the wilderness, starvation, wolves, and countless other perils, Hugh Glass was ultimately taken out by the same tribe that had wounded him a decade earlier during his first expedition with Major Henry. It's like the universe has a really dark sense of humor and was just waiting for the perfect punchline.

The Legacy Lives On (And Gets Progressively More Ridiculous)

Glass's story first appeared in print in 1825 in The Port Folio, a Philadelphia literary journal. It was later revealed to be written by James Hall, who probably took some creative liberties with the tale. Because, let's be honest, the actual story wasn't quite hardcore enough on its own.

Over the decades, Glass's legend grew, with each retelling adding new details and embellishments. By the time Hollywood got hold of it, Glass had acquired a Native American wife and son (which historians say probably never existed), and his revenge mission had become the centerpiece of the narrative rather than just one part of his wild life.

The 2015 film The Revenant, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, brought Glass's story to modern audiences. DiCaprio won an Oscar for the role, which mainly consisted of him grunting, crawling through snow, and eating raw bison liver on camera. The real Hugh Glass would have probably watched that movie and said, "That's cute, Leo, but did you set your own broken leg? I didn't think so."

Today, you can follow the Hugh Glass Trail in South Dakota, visiting sites like the Hugh Glass Monument near Shadehill State Recreation Area and seeing John Lopez's scrap metal sculpture in Lemmon that depicts the famous bear attack. It's like a fun family vacation, if your family enjoys visiting places where people almost died horrifically!

What Makes This Story So F*cking Amazing

When you strip away all the Hollywood embellishments and historical uncertainties, what remains is still one of the most incredible survival stories in American history. Hugh Glass didn't just survive; he refused to die out of pure spite and determination.

In today's world, where we lose our minds if the Wi-Fi goes out for ten minutes, it's hard to imagine the mental fortitude required to drag your mangled body 200 miles through hostile wilderness, living off berries and raw snake meat, all while planning revenge against the people who abandoned you.

Glass's story reminds us that humans are capable of extraordinary feats when pushed to the absolute limit. It's a tale that makes your worst day seem like a luxury spa retreat by comparison. Got fired? At least a bear didn't rip your face off. Relationship problems? Try having your friends steal your stuff and leave you for dead.

The next time you're facing a challenge that seems insurmountable, remember Hugh Glass—the man who looked death in the face and said, "Not today, asshole. I've got some people to find first." And then proceeded to crawl 200 miles on pure determination and rage.

In the end, perhaps the most surprising part of Glass's story isn't that he survived the bear attack or completed his improbable journey—it's that after all that, he chose forgiveness over revenge. After weeks of planning exactly how he would kill Fitzgerald and Bridger, Glass looked at young Jim Bridger and decided to let him live. It's either the most enlightened act of compassion in frontier history or evidence that Glass realized revenge wouldn't bring his gun, knife, or original face back.

Either way, Hugh Glass remains the ultimate example of "what doesn't kill you makes you angrier, more determined, and eventually a subject of Hollywood movies." His life wasn't just extraordinary—it was almost comically resilient, like a frontier version of those inflatable punching clowns that always pop back up no matter how hard you hit them.

So the next time you think you're having a bad day, remember Hugh Glass and his bear-mauled, revenge-fueled crawl across the Dakota Territory. It won't make your problems disappear, but it might give you some much-needed perspective. After all, you still have your face. Probably. My apologies if not.