What Bears do in the Woods
Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2009 12:53 pm
Thought you might emjoy this story from last summer...it's in the humor section of the new website we are creating about backpacking the sierra.
We'd had a lovely hike to Showers Lake on the Pacific Crest Trail, south of Lake Tahoe. The lake was beautiful, and because we were there in mid-September, there was only one other group. We'd had a nice visit with them and their hound dog earlier in the evening, when they had found our bottle of wine chilling in the stream...and wanted to make sure that it wasn't litter.
That evening, M and I had noticed a bear bag, hanging in a tree, slowly twisting in the wind. The story it told was sad: someone had strung their food up there to protect it from bears. But we could see how the cord had become twisted, and the bag got stuck, way too high for any human to reach. It looked as if they had tied a knife onto a stick, and cut the bottom out of the bag, allowing the food to fall out. But also leaving the sad sack hanging like a corpse in the tree.
The next morning I woke up first ( as I always do ) and set about getting breakfast ready. And while M got into her clothes, I realized it was time for me to make a trip into the woods to do what bears do there. I got our trowel and TP, and worked my way down a slope well away from both camp and lake. There I found a nice spot, with a log to lean on and soft soil to dig.
Once prepared, I dropped my drawers and settled in. And as I did so, I thought I might have heard a low rumbling, a bit like a growl.
"Hmmm," I thought. "Awkward moment to be surprised by a bear."
But I didn't hear it again, and once again settled in against the log.
And that's when I heard it again. No mistake this time. It was a low growling rumble, and it was coming from not too far away, behind me. This was not good.
I slowly turned my head--realizing that with my pants around my ankles, I wasn't going anywhere fast.
And that's when I saw him: the hound dog from the other camp. He has seen me disappear, and wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to cause any trouble.
I smiled and said a few enouraging words to him. He stayed at attention, but stopped growling. I said a few more words, and he slowly turned his head and walked back to his camp, minding his own business.
As I did mine.
Another close call in the woods!
If you want, check our more humor
http://www.backpackthesierra.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
We'd had a lovely hike to Showers Lake on the Pacific Crest Trail, south of Lake Tahoe. The lake was beautiful, and because we were there in mid-September, there was only one other group. We'd had a nice visit with them and their hound dog earlier in the evening, when they had found our bottle of wine chilling in the stream...and wanted to make sure that it wasn't litter.
That evening, M and I had noticed a bear bag, hanging in a tree, slowly twisting in the wind. The story it told was sad: someone had strung their food up there to protect it from bears. But we could see how the cord had become twisted, and the bag got stuck, way too high for any human to reach. It looked as if they had tied a knife onto a stick, and cut the bottom out of the bag, allowing the food to fall out. But also leaving the sad sack hanging like a corpse in the tree.
The next morning I woke up first ( as I always do ) and set about getting breakfast ready. And while M got into her clothes, I realized it was time for me to make a trip into the woods to do what bears do there. I got our trowel and TP, and worked my way down a slope well away from both camp and lake. There I found a nice spot, with a log to lean on and soft soil to dig.
Once prepared, I dropped my drawers and settled in. And as I did so, I thought I might have heard a low rumbling, a bit like a growl.
"Hmmm," I thought. "Awkward moment to be surprised by a bear."
But I didn't hear it again, and once again settled in against the log.
And that's when I heard it again. No mistake this time. It was a low growling rumble, and it was coming from not too far away, behind me. This was not good.
I slowly turned my head--realizing that with my pants around my ankles, I wasn't going anywhere fast.
And that's when I saw him: the hound dog from the other camp. He has seen me disappear, and wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to cause any trouble.
I smiled and said a few enouraging words to him. He stayed at attention, but stopped growling. I said a few more words, and he slowly turned his head and walked back to his camp, minding his own business.
As I did mine.
Another close call in the woods!
If you want, check our more humor
http://www.backpackthesierra.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
