Buzz
On August 4, 1984, during a hike in central British Columbia, Troy Hurtubise encountered a grizzly bear. The bear knocked him down, sending his .22 rifle flying out of reach. As he scrambled to stand, he pulled out his knife in defense.
Hurtubise recalls that the bear appeared to weigh its options before retreating into the forest. A conservationist later informed him that the presence of cubs would have likely resulted in a fatal attack.
For the grizzly, the incident was a minor interaction with an intruding human. For Hurtubise, however, it sparked a transformative idea. The Ontario native became fixated on creating protective armor capable of enduring a grizzly assault. Drawing inspiration from the chain mail used by shark researchers, he sought advice from experts to refine his designs. His seven-year journey to develop the suit was documented in the 1996 film Project Grizzly, which Quentin Tarantino has praised as a personal favorite.
However, Hurtubise's journey has been fraught with challenges. At 50, the self-described eccentric avoids schematics and often struggles to explain the functionality of his inventions—such as fireproof paste, a bulletproof shield, and a light he claims can reduce tumors. Over time, his relentless pursuit of innovation has led to bankruptcy, the sale of prototypes on eBay, and even pawning his wedding ring to cover debts incurred by his ambitious projects.
Without financial or academic support, many dismiss Hurtubise's ideas as impractical or absurd, while others see potential life-saving value in them. “My wife once told me, ‘If you’d just invent a simple refrigerator magnet and promote it on an infomercial, we’d be wealthy,’” Hurtubise shares. “But that’s not my style. I create what I envision in my mind, confident it will succeed.”
Armor Up
Years after his bear encounter, Hurtubise was inspired by RoboCop to conceptualize body armor. He envisioned a protective suit that would enable researchers to test bear deterrent sprays and safely study grizzly behavior. Over seven years, he invested $150,000 to develop a series of suits named Ursus Mark. The 7'2" Mark VI, constructed with air cushioning, titanium, and duct tape, survived rigorous tests, including being struck by a pickup truck and attacked by bikers with baseball bats, as shown in Project Grizzly. Despite its success, the suit weighed a hefty 150 pounds—equal to Hurtubise's own weight.
“My only regret is that the documentary didn’t dedicate five minutes to explaining the science behind it,” he remarks. “Achieving the ability to withstand a truck impact took years of meticulous work.”
Ultimately, Hurtubise never got his chance to face a grizzly again. During filming, he had to abandon his plans because the suit's weight made it impossible for him to stay upright on rough terrain. In 2002, a trainer allowed him into a cage with a Kodiak bear, but the bear was too bewildered by Hurtubise's appearance to come near him.
“She was so frightened that she urinated,” Hurtubise remembers. “I didn’t look human enough.” The Mark series was ultimately deemed impractical due to its limited mobility and questionable utility. “We would never use such a suit,” says Lana Ciarniello, PhD, a bear behavior expert. “Understanding bear behavior is the most effective way to avoid attacks, which are rare to begin with.”
Despite its limitations, the armor brought Hurtubise widespread recognition. Beyond the documentary, he appeared on Japanese game shows and inspired a 2003 episode of The Simpsons, where Homer builds a bear-proof suit. He even starred in an Audi commercial. True to form, Hurtubise reinvested the earnings into his inventive endeavors.
After setting aside his bear-related ambitions, Hurtubise shifted focus to other innovations. Inspired by his brother’s military background, he became fascinated with flexible armor. He envisioned a suit inspired by the one in the video game Halo, designed to enhance protection for soldiers and law enforcement. This led to the creation of the Trojan suit, which he tested with the help of retired military marksman Keith Cunningham, who had previously assisted during his bear experiments using nonlethal rounds.
Cunningham recalls an instance where Hurtubise insisted on being shot at point-blank range, confident his armor could stop the bullet. “But it’s illegal in our province to aim a loaded weapon at someone,” Cunningham explains. “So we removed the plate. I fired at it, and the bullet pierced right through. He turned pale as a ghost.”
Hurtubise refined the Trojan, which he introduced in 2007, but it received little attention. He eventually offered the design to the Canadian military at no cost, though the evaluation process for new technology in the armed forces can take years. Existing contracts with equipment suppliers make it nearly impossible for independent inventors without support or connections to break through. “In the military-industrial complex, contracts are tightly controlled, and they don’t want outsiders interfering,” he explains. “Engineers consult me, but I can’t officially collaborate with them. I’m seen as unpredictable, and my methods are unconventional.” Despite this, many of Hurtubise’s inventions have made news. His fire paste, a sticky substance that solidifies to resist flames, was tested by Canada’s Discovery Channel and withstood temperatures over 3,600° F. Hurtubise even demonstrated its effectiveness by holding a blowtorch to his helmeted head for 10 minutes. NASA reportedly showed interest but never pursued it further.
During a demonstration of his blast blanket, designed to absorb heavy gunfire, Cunningham fired multiple 12-gauge shotgun shells into it. When it finally gave way, it merely toppled over, leaving the glass behind it intact. “I promoted it to law enforcement whenever I could,” Cunningham says. “Imagine equipping patrol car doors or military transports with this. I urged them, ‘Look beyond Troy’s eccentricities.’”
Cunningham’s cautious approach was warranted: Hurtubise resembles a rugged outdoorsman more than a respected inventor. Additionally, some of his claims push the limits of credibility. Hurtubise faced skepticism when he asserted that his God Light device reduced his sister-in-law’s cysts and tumors in mice. He even believes it could treat Parkinson’s. “Light is highly effective against certain cancers,” he claims. “I combined all light spectrums and electromagnetic radiation into one device. It works, though I can’t explain why.”
Hurtubise’s assertions have never been independently verified, largely because exposing ill individuals to an experimental electromagnetic beam raises ethical concerns. When he tested the God Light on himself, he experienced what he calls the Hyde effect: his hair fell out, and he lost 20 pounds. Eventually, the device stopped functioning. Hurtubise has yet to secure the funding needed to revive the project.
Invent and Invent Again
Today, Hurtubise manages a scrapyard in Ontario and dismisses the idea of patents, stating that his inventions are too easily replicated and the $80,000 application fee is prohibitive. He refuses to sell his creations outright, such as his fire paste, because he often sells shares to investors to fund development. “By the time fire paste was ready for testing, 70 percent of it was owned by investors,” he explains. “When a university expresses interest, I only own 30 percent, which isn’t enough for them.” Despite these challenges, Hurtubise remains driven to invent, often working 21-hour days to perfect his projects. His current focus is securing funding for the Apache, the newest iteration of his Trojan suit, which he claims offers 93 percent body coverage and 96 percent flexibility. Building a prototype will cost $70,000 and take six to eight months. “I plan to market it to law enforcement, like SWAT teams,” he says. Additionally, he needs $100,000 to rebuild the God Light, now called the EMR-5, which he believes can specifically treat breast cancer. He aims to have it tested at Johns Hopkins.
Hurtubise’s legacy remains uncertain. He could join the ranks of inventors initially dismissed but later vindicated by history, much like the Wright brothers, who were once accused of faking their first flights. If this is his destiny, Hurtubise appears at peace with it. “I’ve been called a maverick, a nutcase, and everything in between,” he says. “It never bothered me. Without imagination, science is meaningless.”
