Riddle Me Mail - December
[ A behind-the-scenes look and some things discovered along the way. ]
[ A behind-the-scenes look and some things discovered along the way. ]
When the Bear Growls
I have one good bear story. It's the only time I've ever encountered a bear, and it was a real, live, wild bear. We were hiking a very steep trail in New Hampshire, the bugs were buzzing, and the summit was within sight. It was late May and my husband and I took a 3-day drive from Maine to Vermont. On the way to Vermont, we traveled though the White Mountains of New Hampshire and stopped at just about every pullover that had a waterfall. On the return trip, we traveled the Kancamagus Highway and spent the night in North Conway. Each time we stopped, we'd glance at the trailhead postings that encouraged us to lock our vehicle and be mindful of wildlife. Bears were mentioned, but only in small letters along with all of the other tips. North Conway was our last stop and we planned an early morning hike before heading home. When we pulled into the trailhead, there was a kiosk with a number of postings and one stood out. It was large poster with two words at the top; two big, bold, yellow words. BEAR ALERT Well, it made me nervous. My husband insisted that we only need be aware and reminded me that he'd spent more than 20 years crashing through woods and had never seen a bear. I reminded him that I'm a graphic designer and when someone takes two words and makes them really big, really bold, and really yellow, it means something. Laces tight, bug spray sprayed, and packs adjusted, we were headed up the trail. The bugs were thick and the trail was steep. And even though he was reassuring and thought we needn't worry, my husband periodically whistled and whooped as we hiked up the trail. We were within sight of the tree line, nearly to the ridge, and eager to see the panoramic view promised in the trail description, when we stopped to catch our breath. The trail was narrow and steep, so we stood close together, me looking down at him, he looking up, and beyond, me. And that's when he saw it. A bear. Two little round ears attached to a big body behind a big log. Just as he spoke to warn me of the bear, the bear let out a grunt and growl. No further warning needed. We were in each other's arms in an instant. Slipping and sliding downhill, we scrambled to regain our footing and composure. When we came to a stop, we remembered what all those trailhead tips had said to do: remain calm and shout. Shout we did. Calm? Not so much. But the shouting seemed to work. When we stopped, silence fell upon us, and the woods. Listening, waiting, and listening again, we were certain the bear had fled . . . up the trail. Just where we were headed. We had to turn around. It was spring and we worried it might have been a mother bear with cubs. Weak in the knees (it's a real thing), we hiked down the trail. We may not have made it to the summit, but my husband loves to tell stories, and each time he tell this one, the roar of the black bear gets a bit more grizzly, Boo-Boo. Answers to the December Quizzical:
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Waterfall in the White Mountains.
Checking the water temperature.
A picture is worth . . . well, at least two words.
Early stage in the collage process.
Looking for a unique gift that keeps on giving?
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