Not so fast! Re: [pct-l] Last resort weapons

[blisterfree@xxxxxxxxx (Brett)]

The one time I camped along the PCT in Lyell Canyon, I had been oblivious to
the likelihood of a bear encounter, having apparently digested some
incorrect information to the effect that bear aggressions would be limited
to Yosemite Valley. Slept out in the open, or was it beneath the tarp?
Either way, had dinner in camp. Threw food scraps about. Left everything on
the ground, unprotected per usual. Cold enough for a fire that night, but
the area seemed too fragile for that. So it was just me and the pervasive
odors of dinner, alone in the dark dark night.

Of course, no bear came.

Which just goes to show that above all else, bears have a nose for human
fear. That, or a fair fight.

Next time, would skip the valleys. Camp high. No wood above treeline. The
bears won't have sufficient fun without the "fire game," and they know it.

The most persistent of bears is the one who stalks your camp for hours,
moving ever closer, creeping obliquely among the pines, head askant, nose to
the wind, large mean hungry eyes afire in the beam of your headlamp, silent
but for the crack of deadfall - like bones - on the forest floor as he
tracks his meal. Your racing heart, 200 beats per minute, breaks for this
animal who hunts you, who loves you despises you maybe enough to eat you.
The smell of danger brings him closer, now forces you from the frail
feathers of a sleeping bag, to tiptoe painful hours it seems, toward the
one-sided cover of some invisible tree in the night. The omnicient
omnipotent beast is everywhere, anywhere, no escape, no stealth for your
fear in the presence of his stealth. And now he has you!

The deer is a doe. No points. Mule deer. An adolescent. She pauses at the
foot of your sleeping bag, pawing at the soft warm wetness of the pine duff.
Her mouth nuzzles the earth, tongue in quest of salt, that rarest of
wilderness spices. Those big doe eyes show kindness, alertness, fear
temporarily squelched by the instincts of survival. The ears are straight
up, pointed toward every direction, waiting, forever waiting... for whatever
sound may come.

Half a mile away, a belding ground squirrel emerges cautiously from his
chambers to sound his first whistle of the new day. Light comes to the
canyon, one charged particle at a time. Morning pushes back the night and
returns a sense of normalcy. The deer, like the bear, is gone. Like a
nightmare. Like a dream.

- blisterfree


>>I battled this bear, who persistently tried to go into my
tent, then after my pack, and after my canister (yes, I had one
but all my food for the 2 week trip would not fit into it)
until 5am, maddenly rushing around for more downed wood
as the fire started to go down every 15 minutes..I finally found
a dead downed tree that became an infinite supply of wood,
but it was 200 feet away..so I had to run to get the wood, run
away or around the bears latest charge, throw wood on the fire,
throw rocks and wood at the bear, who was soooooo insistent I
was beyond scared, and really getting pissed at this overgrown
racoon (which all black bears really are!) and replenish my torch,
all at the same time.<<