A Beary Eventful Hike

Don’t get between a Momma Bear and her cubs.  It’s Wilderness 101, yet somehow Brad still managed to do it.  I guess I can’t blame him.  Stupid pollen.  He bent over to sneeze and looked up to find a growling, lunging Momma Bear.  Rex didn’t even bark.  His survival instincts had to have kicked in. 

I was approximately 100-yards behind the boys, lolly-gagging, taking pictures of recently-bloomed wildflowers.  I saw a doe, which was exciting.  Then, of course, Brad had to steal my thunder.  Bear and cubs tops doe every time. 

Brad’s pace was quick as he walked back toward me, and I could tell his eyes were wide even though they were masked by his Oakleys.  Rex had his tail between his legs, and if Brad would have had a tail, it probably would have been between his legs, too. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked.  In detail, he rehashed the sneezing, the momma, the growling, the cubs, etc. 

“Were you scared?” I said.  “Is your heart racing?”

“You know,” he replied in a nervous laugh, “They say you don’t ever have to outrun a bear, just have to outrun the person you’re with.” 

“Funny, Brad," I mumbled.. Side note: Brad ran a 6-minute mile in the Army.  I think my personal best was 9-something.  "So what do we do, babe?  How are we gonna get home?”

We both looked at each other for a moment.  Then, Brad draped his arm on me, resting his entire bodyweight on my shoulder, while Rex hid his entire face in between my legs.  They were scared and silent.  I was, too. In a weird way, though, it was kind of awesome.

After a few minutes, Brad decided he needed to check things out again, so he handed me Rex’s leash.  I had one eye on the wooded area that led to Skyline Drive, to safety.  I had my other eye on Brad.  He was stupid to go up that trail again, but I wasn’t thinking that.  I was thinking “Why does he get to be stupid and I don’t?”  I holler for him to come back. 

It was my turn to push the envelope.  Adrenaline pumped through my body as I inched my way towards the mom and her cubs.  As I rounded the bend, Brad yelled at me to stop.  He said I was too close, and then I saw him.  A tiny little cub hiding behind a tree.  Mom was on the left side of the trail with cub #1 and cub #2, and cub #3 was on the right side of the trail.  We would have had to walk between this little family in order to finish our hike. 

Against my better judgment, I made eye contact with the cub.  And I just couldn’t look away.  I stood there for second, soaking in the moment.  It was absolutely beautiful.  There on the trail, I tried hard to capture every detail, just so I would never forget how it felt to have this amazing-- but brief--connection with such a majestic and innocent animal.  Then, I snapped a picture, turned around, and walked back toward Rex and Brad.

My cub friend.  I'll call him Barry.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Brad explained.  “You’re not supposed to turn your back to a bear.” 

“Oh,” was all I said. 

Hallelujah.

Vulnerable but not trapped, Brad and I discussed what our next step would be.  We knew we couldn’t finish the hike on the AT as we had planned, so we decided to blaze a trail up to Skyline Drive--hyperaware of every noise we heard during the oh-so-brief walk to safety.  To our surprise, when we reached the road, we were at the trailhead and only 100 feet away from my car.  We survived...bearly.  ;)