The photo by the way is of Laura, during a much more pleasant hike earlier in the year. For those whom have read the first part… I will pick up where I left off… Bear!
Yep, Buddy Bear was still behind us. Laura and I took off at full speed (again)… up the trail that was now making its way to the top of the ridge. As our breath ran out once more, the trail (thank goodness) leveled out and disappeared into a thick cover of trees -- trees we wasted no time vanishing into.
A few minutes later we came to a junction… a meeting of two trails. We knew our path lay to the left so we made the turn without breaking stride. The trail also continued straight for those not wanting to turn. If you recall, this was an impromptu hike, which means I had no pack, which means I did not have my trail maps, which means I really had no clue as to where the heck we were. I did not know where the trail that went straight led, nor did I care.
My hope was that the bear would continue on straight and not turn when it came to the junction. This of course implies that I was hoping the bear was not following our scent. Let’s face it, the “scent” of two 50 something’s whom had just run a quarter mile up a very steep rocky slope would probably not be all that hard to follow. In fact I had already picked up on the fact that squirrels were climbing way higher in their trees than usual… obviously due to our “scent” problem. I began to hope that Buddy Bear was suffering with a bad cold, or at the very least, an allergy problem.
I looked at Laura and put my finger to my lips… no noise… no talking… quiet steps. When the bear got to the trail junction we had just passed, I wanted it to continue on its merry way without taking the turn. Now hiking at a quickened (and quiet) pace, it was not long before we found ourselves at yet another junction; one that we had passed earlier in the day at a much slower pace, while under no mental duress of any kind, while feeling no pressure at all, and not worrying about “things”, like the current economic situation, or world hunger, or the chances of being mauled by a bear hell bent on catching up with you on a trail out in the middle of nowhere. We stopped, each keeping one eye on the trail behind us, and quickly made the decision to turn right. We were sure we needed to turn because we knew we needed to hike parallel to the ridge. In the words of the Templar Knight from one of the Indiana Jones movies… we chose poorly.
The trail dipped down and around a bend. About 10 minutes in I had a crystal-clear “Seals & Crofts” moment… sing it with me now… “We had never passed this way before”. Laura said it first… “This trail doesn’t look familiar”. It was obvious that in our haste to stay ahead of the bear we had turned the wrong way.
Nevertheless, Laura and I continued for a while (neither of us wanting to turn around and head back in the direction that the bear might be coming from). We began looking for a trail blaze. Trail blazes are small rectangles of paint, found on tree trunks and large rock formations that mark most trails. The trail we wanted to be on was blue blazed. Even though we could not find one, I was convinced that we were on the Appalachian Trail (which would be blazed white). We both knew that the AT ran along this ridge.
That’s when Laura saw it. She stopped dead in her tracks and pointed.
Nope… not the bear. Nope… not a white blaze either. However, it was something that a bear might leave behind if it wanted to blaze a trail… only not with paint. Apparently another bear had used this trail very recently… and I really do mean “used” this trail. If the intent of the bear were to mark territory, I could easily see why a small bear might choose to turn around. I looked down in awe at the small mountain in the middle of the trail. Not only was it fresh, but it was full of berries, lots of ‘em. Actually, I did not see the berries; my mind saw things like my wristwatch and Laura’s sunglasses.
So… if this truly were the Appalachian Trail it would mean that we were not only heading for Maine (instead of our car) it would also mean we were probably not very far behind a fellow traveler. Reluctantly, we turned around and started back in the direction that we had come from, knowing that Buddy Bear would soon appear in front of us if by chance it had made the same trail choices that we had.
I picked up a rock, one a little larger than the size of my fist, you know, the kind you see tied to a stick in those museum drawings of prehistoric folks… when they hunt animals… like bear for instance. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to do with it. A bear’s head is not much different than a bowling ball when it comes to hardness… and my rock wasn’t even tied to a stick.
With every bend in the trail that we could not see around, our heartbeats would quicken, only to be followed by a sigh of relief and a long exhale of held breath. This up-down cycle repeated itself for the longest quarter mile we had ever walked… ever. Our spirits picked up when we arrived back at the junction. We then hiked only a short distance down the trail (the one we had prematurely turned off of) to find the turn we should have taken earlier. And by the way… back at the junction… we saw the white blaze that we wished we had seen when we made the wrong turn.
After scampering across the cliffs that we had visited earlier that day (happier times, carefree, and bear-free), we began the long hike down the other side of the mountain. Even though we were quite sure the bear was no longer anywhere near us, it was funny that we still found ourselves looking over our shoulders every now and then… just to make sure.
On the way down we met two separate groups of hikers, both on their way up. We told each about the bear and how it had followed us, its persistence, and it making our lives miserable for almost an hour. The first group talked about it for a while, then turned and followed us down the mountain. The second group seemed to take the news as all the more reason to keep going… to each their own I suppose.
When the hike was over Laura said, “Well, we had an adventure.” Yes we did… we had ourselves an adventure alright. -- Good night Buddy Bear, wherever you are.
