Day 4: Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, or Just Bear
Between fording ice cold snow rivers barefoot, getting lost, jumping down cliffs, and being eaten alive by roving packs of mosquitoes, I feel confident in claiming that Day 4 was a long day.
I had just overcome the disheartening setback of believing I was going to be forced to turn around and was settling in to what I wanted to believe was going to be another mile or two of flat terrain hiking, but was forcing myself to believe would be longer.
The trail was pleasantly flat. To the left (North) was an unforested (grassy, and a few trees, but certainly not the dense forest I had been hiking through) hill. It wasn't a sheer wall, but I wouldn't want to have to hike up it. To the right (South) was a sharp granite drop off (I'd call it "sheer", but that wouldn't be fare to the jagged rocks pointing up at me) into the raging Merced River (of photographic record in a previous post).
I hiked along in forest-quality silence, listening to the river and the bird, long since having put my annoying bear bell away. I rounded a corner and up the trail, 50 feet away was the most magnificent specimen of a brown bear I have ever seen. He was truly a sight to behold. 4-5 feet at the withers, he was simply out for a Sunday stroll. Unfortunately, that stroll was towards me.
Now, my entire life I have been told "There are no brown bears in these here woods. Lots of black bears, sure. And, not all black bears are black, many are brown. But, there are no brown bears in the Sierras." Well, Ranger Rick, you lied. I've seen my fair share of black bears in the wild. I know what a black bear looks like. And, I've seen plenty of brown bears (in photos, at the zoo, etc), I know what a brown bear looks like. I'm here to tell you, there's at least one brown bear in Yosemite, and he's spectacular. Also, totally chill.
One thing that I'm particularly pleased about is the fact that I'm capable of remaining calm when calm is the most important emotion to have. I stopped in my tracks and, following the textbooks, clutched my hiking poles in my hands as I raised my arms above my head and smacked them together while shouting "HEY! GET OUTTA HERE!"
As anticipated, it worked. He turned and ambled away. Pausing at one point to look back and see if I was still there. I smacked my poles together and called out, again. He turned back away and ambled into the dense forest ahead of us.
I waited a minute or two before heading down the trail into the woods behind him. But, only after I took my bear bell out of its bag.
I had just overcome the disheartening setback of believing I was going to be forced to turn around and was settling in to what I wanted to believe was going to be another mile or two of flat terrain hiking, but was forcing myself to believe would be longer.
The trail was pleasantly flat. To the left (North) was an unforested (grassy, and a few trees, but certainly not the dense forest I had been hiking through) hill. It wasn't a sheer wall, but I wouldn't want to have to hike up it. To the right (South) was a sharp granite drop off (I'd call it "sheer", but that wouldn't be fare to the jagged rocks pointing up at me) into the raging Merced River (of photographic record in a previous post).
I hiked along in forest-quality silence, listening to the river and the bird, long since having put my annoying bear bell away. I rounded a corner and up the trail, 50 feet away was the most magnificent specimen of a brown bear I have ever seen. He was truly a sight to behold. 4-5 feet at the withers, he was simply out for a Sunday stroll. Unfortunately, that stroll was towards me.
Now, my entire life I have been told "There are no brown bears in these here woods. Lots of black bears, sure. And, not all black bears are black, many are brown. But, there are no brown bears in the Sierras." Well, Ranger Rick, you lied. I've seen my fair share of black bears in the wild. I know what a black bear looks like. And, I've seen plenty of brown bears (in photos, at the zoo, etc), I know what a brown bear looks like. I'm here to tell you, there's at least one brown bear in Yosemite, and he's spectacular. Also, totally chill.
One thing that I'm particularly pleased about is the fact that I'm capable of remaining calm when calm is the most important emotion to have. I stopped in my tracks and, following the textbooks, clutched my hiking poles in my hands as I raised my arms above my head and smacked them together while shouting "HEY! GET OUTTA HERE!"
As anticipated, it worked. He turned and ambled away. Pausing at one point to look back and see if I was still there. I smacked my poles together and called out, again. He turned back away and ambled into the dense forest ahead of us.
I waited a minute or two before heading down the trail into the woods behind him. But, only after I took my bear bell out of its bag.
posted by granola girl at 9:25 PM
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