It's become somewhat of a running joke with my family with the number of times I've come across bears in my travels. My totem sign must be a bear because I'm closing in on two dozen spotted. The twisted sense of humor my family has, it is a given that every Christmas, I will receive one token gift with a bear on it.
I admit I have seen more bears than many of my friends who have spent just as much, if not more, time out in the mountains, forests and other nice habitats where bears like to forage, hunt and just be left alone by the bipedal monkeys we are.
For a while I thought I was losing my touch. Since moving to Colorado almost five years ago, I had come across three - and one was while in a car. Maybe I was just being seen as another monkey; I lacked the ursine pheromones. But alas, like a swinger who's scored at a nightclub, I have my strut back. Two bears in seven days.
First one was the previous Sunday on a hike at Roxborough State Park. He was a shy little guy whose butt running like mad is all I saw through the bushes.
Pretty area. Too bad you can't climb here. Though the two slabs I did tread up were rather crumbly - your hands felt like you were playing in the sand - which made the two downclimbs rather, um, well the one made me curse at myself.
The wet forecast this past weekend had me switching around plans. My original agenda was to backpack up to Stone Lake, tag a couple of summits in Cooper and Marten via the exposed North Ridge of Cooper, carry over and down to the saddle and then the Class 3 ridge of Marten.
Rak was going to get up early and join me up near Stone Lake on Sunday and together we were going to tag Hiamovi by the most interesting, exposed climbing route possible. Those plans were dashed when I approached our weatherman, told him where I was going and was given the forecast of, "How wet do you want to get?"
Plan B. Saturday went mountain biking at three locales: Meyers Ranch, Flying J and 3 Sisters. It was a good 3 1/2 hour ride sandwiched between shuttling to the locations. Because getting over 2,000 feet vert and around 18 miles of single track wasn't enough, went to the gym that afternoon.
Sunday woke up shortly after 5 am, checked out the sky and the forecast and decided against my trip up Jasper Peak SE snow slopes and carry over to Mt Neva and down it's long ridge. The thought of getting stuck on that ridge with the thunderstorm booming overhead wasn't enticing. I should know, the same thing happened to me the previous Monday on some unnamed bump in the Indian Peaks - it's amazing how fast you can run in hiking boots with a backpack on talus when needed.
Settled on Kenosha Peak. I can hike in the rain, and after living in Washington, it's second nature.
That's my destination... I think. Once again I left the guidebook and map at home.
I remembered the approach trail made a sharp left at one point and that I wanted to bushwack straight up to treeline and make my way across the large ridge. Never got to that point. Because....
That would be a bear track. Not a big one, but not a small one neither. I was enjoying the clearing I was traversing through when something caught the corner of my eye. Stopped, walked back and examined. Yup! That's ursine! And fairly new.
Nice rock but crumbly. I bushwacked to the base and the cliff didn't look as good as from afar. But it did remind me about how much bloody rock there is in this state - and how much of it is choss.
While pausing for a brief break en route to the trail again, this little guy became incensed over my being near his home. I had nonstop chatter from the little guy the entire time.
Shortly after getting to the trail again, I ran into a couple of backpackers and their pair of dogs. I asked how there trip was, where they camped and informed them about the tracks I spotted but didn't see any other bearish signs.
About a mile after separating and probably by assumption not far from where I would bushwack from, that's where I spotted it. Bear! BIG bear! Big bear not acting very bear-like.
It was about 150-200 feet from me and uphill from the trail. I'm not sure how I spotted him because it wasn't moving. That's what unsettled me. It seemed intent on something and didn't know I was nearby. Cubs? It made a kill?
I've walked past a bear not eight feet from me before in Garibaldi Provincial Park in British Columbia. I've run across a mother and its cub in too-close proximity (yes I dry-heaved after the adrenaline wore off); heck, I've come across a few grizzlies (close to dry-heaving experience).
But this one made me unsettled. And it wasn't so much that I came across it. It was that on the way back I would probably have to come across it again, especially if it had a kill up there.
So back I went. Came across a couple of hikers heading up not far from the trailhead. I was kind enough to inform them about my sighting. The woman in the couple did a complete turnaround and started hiking back as soon as the word, "bear" passed through my lips.
So now I have another bloody mountain I have to go back and finish.
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