[pct-l] Repair kit for bears and cousins

[Mtnned at aol.com (Mtnned@aol.com)]

You know, Greg, I'm beginning to think that this  current generation hasn't a 
clue what a needle and pack thread are.  I was  relieved to see your first 
reaction to this quandary of pack field repair was  just this.  In our efforts 
to find the better and lighter, we often  overlook what we already have, being 
so gullible as to believe that newer and  higher-tech has to be "improved."
 
On my trek from border to border I had three bear encounters.  The  first was 
in a campground in Cedar Grove, Kings Canyon N.P. where I had just  received 
a 14-day food resupply box.  Yogi knew it, too, and struck that  night.  
Always a few hours after the campfires settle down and people in  their trailers go 
to bed, Yogi waddles his way right down the middle of the  campground taking 
inventory of the night's scores.  I awoke to hear the  horrifying sounds of my 
home-on-my-back being ripped apart.  To this day  I'll never forget it and it 
galvanized my resolve to never let it happen again,  which it later almost 
did.  I threatened Yogi with my voice and posturing  with my ice axe which only 
caused him to charge at me far enough to drive me  back behind the nearest 
outhouse. He rummaged for a while, ripped one or  two side pockets to shreds off 
my Kelty Tioga, I guess got bored with my  dehydrated contents, and wandered 
off to the next buffet.
 
The next two days I sewed all the pockets back together using denim patch  
material and Kelty pack thread.  Sure made for great war stories later in  the 
trip!
 
In Norcal a mouse chewed through one of these pockets which I sewed back  
together again.
 
In the North Cascades I walked headlong into a medium-sized black bear on  
the trail walking straight toward me!  I froze in place.  He froze in  place.  
We looked at each other.  We looked for escape routes to  either side.  Saw 
only dense huckleberry bushes under pines and firs. He  started walking toward 
me, tentatively.  After a few more steps, he ducked  into a hole in the bushes 
and I resumed breathing again!
 
At the end of the trip I wanted to see the Muir when it wasn't under snow,  
so I went down to Tuolumne Meadows to begin a three week trek south.  I  spent 
the night in the campground sleeping at the base of a tree with my pack  
leaning against it.  My partner was 10 or 15 feet away doing the  same.  So here it 
goes.  I've finished 2400 miles of trail with no  serious mishaps (not 
really, but too little space here to tell right now), and  there was no way I was 
going to let anything ruin it now. I awoke in pitch dark  under trees to sense 
something ominous near me.  I knew it was big and  above me off to my left 
side.  I was still in my mummy bag and not  really awake.  I just felt there was 
something near me causing my hair to  crawl on the back of my head.
 
I remember opening my bag in one swift motion with my hands, sitting up,  
pivoting to my left and swinging my right hand around as if to hit the intruder  
broadside while yelling at the top of my lungs.  Now this is another trail  
memory that I'll never forget, the feeling of my hand sinking into about 4 to 5  
inches of fur and hitting something with a muffled thud.
 
That woke me up!  Woke my partner and the rest of the campground,  too!  I 
still couldn't see a thing until some neighbors nearby started  turning on their 
lights and calling out, "Are you all right over there?" It was  then that I 
realized what I had done and what could have been done to me if the  bear had 
struck back.  I think he was too shocked to do anything but run  away.  What an 
adrenaline rush!  I don't advocate anyone do  this.  But at least neither did 
my home nor I fall victim to the local  marauder called bear.
 
Bring a needle and thread and some durable patching material like ripstop  or 
codura nylon.  You'll be fine.  Don't forget the duct tape!
 
mtnned