GLACIER NATIONAL PARK, Mont. — No one knew what to expect on the trail to Grinnell Glacier, but during September and October — mating season — it’s always best to give animals plenty of room.

That’s exactly what Jenna Otter wanted to do. She didn’t want to take pictures, let alone chances.

Today was a reunion of sorts. She and her father, Johan Otter, were joined by Heidi Reindl and Heidi’s parents, brother and boyfriend. Ken Justus had taken the day off from work as well.

Once strangers, the hikers were now friends, brought together by what had occurred three years ago in these mountains just a few miles ahead of them. Jenna knew that returning would not be easy.

Three years ago, Jenna and her father had gotten an early start for the glacier, and an hour out, encountered a grizzly that didn’t disappear in the brush. Instead, the bear attacked them.

The story was picked up by the national media — father fights bear to save daughter — and Johan’s recovery, with the severity of his injuries, was miraculous.

Jenna’s story, however, was lost in the drama of her father’s. Although her wounds were less life-threatening, the mark on her psyche — like the scar the grizzly left on her face — was more pronounced and more difficult to understand.

On this return trip to the park, surrounded by the hikers who had rescued them, Jenna hoped to regain what the bear had stolen.

A beloved park

When Jenna was 8, her favorite place in the world was Glacier National Park. She first saw it when she, her sister and parents vacationed there from their home in Escondido, Calif.

When she graduated from high school, a father-daughter hiking trip was planned at Glacier, before she started college.

Until the attack, everything had been perfect. Afterward, nothing was the same. Jenna couldn’t shake the memory of the bear coming right at her — or of it standing right over her. Last summer, her father had taken another trip to the park, his second since the attack. Jenna went, but stayed off the trail. Having recovered from his injuries — a torn-off scalp, numerous puncture wounds and gashes, neck broken in three places and broken ribs — Johan chose to exorcise the demons of the attack by facing them head-on. It wasn’t so easy for Jenna.

She wished it was, but life was different now. She felt it as soon as she got out of the hospital, and she didn’t like it. To begin with, there was the attention — from the “Today” show, “Good Morning America,” Cosmopolitan, “Animal Planet” and a British magazine. She wanted it to stop. She kept saying that moment on the mountain wasn’t going to be her 15 minutes of fame.

Proud of her scar

She began her freshman year at the University of California, Irvine. She wanted to dance. Her injuries — lacerations on her chin and heel, puncture wounds on a shoulder and the back of her head, a broken tailbone and fractured vertebra — kept her from dancing, so she poured herself into general-education requirements. By the second quarter, she had begun practicing again in the dance studio and was volunteering at a hospital.

When patients asked about the pink scar running from her mouth to her chin, she told them about the grizzly attack. She was proud of the mark, certain she’d never have it erased by lasers. Still, it was evidence of the trauma that had fallen across her life.

She questioned her father’s judgment whenever they went hiking. She found herself more emotional. Large animals, especially dogs, made her uneasy.

But, today, in spite of her nervousness, Jenna seemed happy to be on the trail.

The group stopped at an overlook of a cliff.

On this spot one of the rescue helicopters had tried to land. In the distance, in the shadow of overhanging rocks, the attack had taken place.

Jenna felt disoriented. She couldn’t believe she was here again.

“I have to keep reminding myself that this actually happened,” she said.

Heidi’s company today was reassuring. Three years ago, she had been one of the first hikers on the scene and had stayed with the injured Jenna throughout the day, encouraging her to sip water, to sit up, to answer questions. Afterward, Heidi and her family kept her company in the local hospital. They seldom spoke of the attack.

The trail rose between two rocky outcroppings. Railroad ties formed stairs. Then the trail turned sharply to the right.

Revisiting the past

Three years ago, as Jenna stepped around that blind corner, she saw the grizzly walking toward her, two cubs in the distance. Its eyes popped wide as if it were just as surprised as she was.

Jenna spun around and tried to run away, but she tripped. By the time she looked up, the bear was attacking her dad. She grabbed the bear spray, but fumbled with the safety clip. When she looked up again, the bear was coming toward her.

“Here I stumbled,” she said, pointing to the trail. “And here.”

She scrambled into some brush, her father still struggling with the bear. Then everything went quiet. She heard panting. As the bear approached, she tried to be still, but when it stood over her, she reached up and put her hands around its neck to hold it off. That’s when the bear lunged, biting and jostling, and took her head in its jaws, tearing her chin and puncturing the back of her neck.

“Jenna, come over here,” Johan called, peering over the edge.

“No,” she said. “I’m good.”

Heidi’s mother pulled out her camera. Jenna felt her father put his arm around her shoulder. Less than an hour later, the group came to the end of the trail. Above them was a notch in the mountains through which Ken Justus piloted the helicopter that rescued Johan and Jenna. They ate their lunch, the stillness broken only by water lapping in the distance.

Enjoying the present

Later that night, after dinner and farewells to the rest of the group, Jenna and Johan sat on the deck of the Many Glacier Hotel, overlooking Swiftcurrent Lake.

“I don’t think I want to go hiking tomorrow,” Jenna said.

Her knee was hurting.

“Let’s see in the morning,” Johan replied.

On their last afternoon in the park, Jenna joined Johan and Ken hiking on an even more isolated trail where a mountain lion warning had been posted.

When they had reached their destination, Otokomi Lake, and were eating lunch, Ken pulled out a telescoping fishing rod and tackle box and began casting for the trout in the shallows.

Jenna fished too and reeled in a small one. Before releasing it, she held it up for a picture, and when she smiled, there seemed to be no past and no future, just the joy of being here now.