The Bear Witch Project

We took a day trip yesterday to the Kenai Peninsula for a long hike with glacier views, culminating in an ice field overlook (supposedly the only trail in the U.S. that leads to an ice field).

At the trail head, we see a sign warning about bears, how to respond if we see a bear, etc., and I point out that we don't have bear spray, bear bells, etc., so we're probably going to die.  The Companion is not amused.  About two miles in we see . . . bear poop.  I get all MacGyver on that poop: I hold my hand close to it, decide that it's cold, and that the bear is probably long gone.  But then . . . we notice that, at various points in the trail, the plant life on either side is crushed, as if, perhaps, a bear had crushed out of one side and into the other.  We start hypothesizing: maybe those spaces were made by heavy machinery used to maintain the trail.  Maybe a boulder rolled down the mountain.  Maybe there was a meteor shower.

As we continue up the mountain, the plant life becomes less dense, and I stop thinking that every sound from the bushes is the sound of my life coming to an end.  Eventually, the trail becomes a barren wasteland of rocks and fog, which is pretty neat, actually.  But once the thrill wears off, I realize that it is, in fact, really cold near an ice field, and that ice field better make its appearance stat.  After the Companion finally convinces me that I'd probably enjoy myself more if I stopped stomping up the path, we make it to the ice field/glacier, realize that it is still freezing, and head back down.

After a mile or so, we get back into bear country, but aren't feeling quite so nervous this time, especially once we pass the bear poop (still cold, in case you were wondering).  But then we see it.  We round a bend, with the Companion in front.  He freezes, a "holy crap" escaping his lips, alerting me to the news.  I look up, and there it is: a black bear, bolting away from us down the path.  For both of us, the first instinct is to freeze, hoping the bear will continue along its way, leaving us unnoticed and un-mauled.  But then we remember: make noise!  So we start sounding like two parents looking for their four year old in a game of hide and seek.  "OH WOW WAS THAT A BEAR?"  "YES IT WAS.  I WONDER WHERE IT WENT."  "I SURE HOPE IT WENT BACK INTO THE WOODS AWAY FROM US!" 

Needless to say, we made it out alive, and now I've gotten my first bear-while-hiking experience out of the way. Not bad for a Tuesday.