Going
thru my home state of Virginia was awesome. Friends and family came out to surprise me along the way,
the trail was significantly easier than the northern states and I was hitting
between 22 and 34 miles a day. As
I approached a popular climb dubbed, "The Priest," I knew it would be
the first time I had been above 4,000 feet since New Hampshire. I figured I was in good enough hiking
shape to easily make the plateau.
The thing about the Priest is that its elevation change is over a very
short distance. Time to feel that
burn!
I
took a quick break at the base of the mountain to eat lunch and get ready to
kick ass. A local hiker was there
with his playful dog waiting for another buddy to day hike to the North. We chatted a bit and off I went to
climb the Priest (insert inappropriate Catholic joke here). I had a lot of energy at the beginning
and moved quickly, but as I was about 1,000 feet below the finish, my energy
was sapped in the humid air. I
couldn't get there fast enough.
Like every other climb I just gave myself a time limit so I could
mentally have something to look forward to; i.e. "Keep moving for another
30 minutes and you're done, Bubba," I'd say to myself for motivation. My Dad would call me Bubba when I was a
kid if he knew I was hurting, but couldn't stop whatever endeavor I was focused
on.
After
an hour and a half I made it to the top and went on from there. My legs were like jello and my left
ankle was still screaming at me from when I awkwardly rolled it to the inside
back in Massachusetts. I found a
shelter with a nearby water source.
A couple of men were already there setting up tents.
"How's the water source?" I asked.
"Haven't found it yet, but the source on the other side of
the trail is bone dry," one replied.
"I'll check out the next source and let you know."
"Thanks."
I
took my water filter system and took off a tenth of a mile downhill where the
water was at a trickle. I grabbed
the biggest, cleanest looking leaf I could find to jam it in where the trickle
came from in order to increase the flow.
It took a while, but I was able to grab my 2 liters and head to the
top.
"Any luck?"
"A little. There's enough to get what you need."
As
I sat in the shelter preparing to eat and then sleep, "Sky Chicken"
came stomping in. She was a SOBO
that I had met a few days earlier and there weren't many of us on the trail so
I naturally got excited to see a familiar face. She was continuing on at the end of one of my hikes when I
met her. She was a thin, brown
haired retired Air Force pilot from Texas with a "don't mess with
Texas" accent. I believed
that she was carrying way too much weight in her pack, but if you made it to
Virginia then I have no business offering advice. She was one tough lady. Her pack weighed 40 lbs, she was putting in 15-20 miles a
day and back in New Hampshire her hip popped out of place. Sky Chicken didn't even know it until
she fell and heard it pop back into place!
"You again!" I hollered as she came into the
campsite.
"Yeah I'm still kicking!"
We
exchanged stories with the guys at the campsite on physical ailments and she
offered me an unfamiliar drug in the form of a pill that would help with my pain-stricken swollen ankle. I saved it for the
next day or until the pain was too much to handle. I THINK it was tramadol, but don't quote me. The next morning I woke up on the
Priest's plateau (insert another inappropriate Catholic joke) and hit the trail
just before sunrise. It was cold
enough to see my own breath and the fog was very dense. I could only see about 50 feet in front
of me as the fog-enclosed air got a little lighter.
Now...
there were times in Virginia when I could walk down the trail early in the
morning and literally startle a deer that was sleeping just a few feet away, so
it was normal for me to hear rustling of the leaves as an animal scrambled
away. That particular morning I
heard a different noise. The trail
beneath my feet was soft and rich with soil. It felt fucking amazing on my battered feet. I wasn't singing or talking to myself
like I normally did so I knew my presence would go unnoticed by the local
animals. I was just enjoying my
surroundings...
"Thump, thump,
thump, thump."
Hmmm, I must have somehow scared off a
deer.
"Thump, thump, thump, thump."
That must be a fat deer. I had never heard that kind of morning
scramble before. I slowed down to
listen closer. The thumps were
getting closer and I saw the leaves on some large shrubs or small trees shake
as something moved towards the trail down the mountain in front of me and to
the right. I stopped dead in my
tracks. It was two black bear
cubs! Awwwww! So cute. They were just playing around in the woods. Then reality set in. Where the hell is momma bear?!?! The two cubs still had no idea I was 40
feet behind them as I froze.
"Ka-THUMP, Ka-THUMP, Ka-THUMP, Ka-THUMP"
THERE SHE IS. Moments after the cubs arrived, momma
bear came flying UP the mountain from the left side of the trail. She crashed thru everything in her path
as she hit the trail and looked at the cubs as if to say, "Don't leave my
sight ever again!" and the cubs bowed their heads at the matriarch. Momma bear arrived on all fours not
realizing a human was still only 40 feet behind her babies as the fog danced
around me helping to cloak my presence.
She stopped moving with her hind parts aimed at me. Momma bear then cocked her head to the
right and I saw her crinkle her nose as she sniffed the air. Ohhh no, no, NO. The fog hid me from sight, but nothing
could hide my stank. She looked in
my direction, turned around and stood up on two legs. HOLY FUCK.
I was under the impression black bears
rarely got over 6 feet tall, but this momma bear towered over me even being
downhill from my location easily reaching 7-8 feet tall. Her front two legs were bent inward
much like a "tough guy" before a fight. After seeing momma bear move up the mountain with such velocity
and size, I realized then that I could not outrun or out climb this beast. What the hell am I supposed to do?
Some hikers had run into bears and
tried to look bigger by holding their arms out while they screamed. This seemed like a good idea if it was
a bear all by itself, but in my case I had to think about how that momma bear
had to protect her babies and a skinny human is an easy target. Sooo what did 'MERICA do? I looked as docile and non-threatening
as possible.
I literally just looked around like I
was lost while keeping an awkward eye on the bears... didn't even make a sound. I was thinking that if I looked like I didn't pose a threat,
I would be fine. However, if she showed any
ounce of hostility towards me, such as a growl or forward movement, I would
have no choice but to unstrap my pack while simultaneously running and
screaming at the bear without hesitation to instill fear. Oh hello psychological warfare. Then I would unsling my pack to throw
at her as a distraction so I could hopefully stab her in the FACE with the dull
trekking pole while she fought off the flying pack. Instead of thinking about the consequences of challenging a
bear, I had to focus on being the Alpha male and kill this motherfucker. Moment of truth. It's about to get savage. Here we go...
 |
| Awww give 'em a hug! |
Off I went down the trail singing my
own hits such as, "Heeeeey, heeeey
little bear, please, please, pleeeeease don't eat my little ass," and
"Nobody wants to eat a scrawny
human! Hey... ho... hell NO!"
TRUE STORY. As I sang
my super awesome songs, my adrenaline was jacked as I saw the bear tracks in
front of me. The soft-soiled trail
was destroyed for about 3/4 of a mile until they disappeared down the mountain
and to the left. Safe then? Probably. Slow down? "Hey... ho... hell NO!" I popped a few tramadol pills and
holy high batman... the rest of the day was a breeze with all smiles.
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