I was only 1 mile from my designated campsite when I spotted some very small creatures jumping from tree to tree in front of me. At first, I thought they were big squirrels but a bit larger than any squirrels I have ever seen. It then dawned on me that they must be very young bear cubs. I had no idea bear cubs could jump from tree to tree and scamper so fast. I pulled out my camera to film and then remembered that their mother must be nearby. I looked to my right and then left. Sure enough, right off the trail behind some mountain laurel bushes, she was standing perfectly still watching me. I slowly started to back down the trail about 30 feet. I put away my camera and started blowing my bear whistle. I had hiked nearly 4 miles gaining about 2,500 feet in elevation. Wasn’t about to go back so I waited 15 minutes. The cubs only climbed higher and the mother bear didn’t move an inch. With all my nerve, I slowly hiked past them, blowing my whistle until I was alone again in the thick underbrush. It was a bit scary hiking the next mile with just a headlamp but I made it to camp. Strung up my entire pack on the bear cable and climbed into my tent hammock. I heard bears moving thickly through the campsite all night. The next morning, I crossed paths with another bear. This one also did not budge but actually bluff charged me. I guess because it was broad daylight, I found the encounter exciting but not nearly as scary. It must be the darkness that adds fear to the mind.
wrathful empathies – An appalachian Saṃsāra
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