1966 - The Bear

1966 – The Bear

The water was crystal clear as was the weather. A slight bite of cold was in the air but only served to invigorate the boys as we made camp. It was mid-afternoon and we had already reached our planned campsite. As several boys wanted to go fishing for supper the adult supervisors and a couple of the boys volunteered to set-up camp. The rest of us headed up-river to a small cove that was ripe with cattails and Water Lilly’s near the edge of the water. This thick overgrowth extended 20 or so feet into the lake and shielded the shoreline from where we were fishing.

We were 9 Explorer-Scouts and 4 adults on an extended canoe trip into the interior of Canada. We had driven all day from Winthrop Harbor, Illinois through Green Bay, Wisconsin, into Minnesota and toward the twin cities when we reached our goal: The Lake Of The Woods. We had contracted with Gunflint Outfitters whose business was in the middle of an area known as “The Boundary Waters” from which we would be pushing off to a week-long canoe trip that would take us to a point 75-minles from the closest building, and even that was a privately held piece of property only accessible from the air via pontoon-plane. We never saw this place or came anywhere near – it was simply the landmark that noted our farthest distance from civilization. After getting lost once a few miles from our destination we eventually arrived sometime in the middle of the night and spent the night huddled together in the cars attempting to sleep while awaiting morning.

At 5:30 AM a hard chill and a brisk wind blew as we picked up our equipment and packed out canoes with the help of the professional outfitters who took the time to show us the finer points of balancing the load and spreading weight between all 6 canoes – 1 fiberglass number owned by Jack and carried on the carrier to the destination, and 5 aluminum rentals. Mike, the current President of our troop and I, the Treasurer, were paired up and we had the honor of handling the charts and doing the navigation. By the time we were packed up and ready to go the sun had warmed the day and the wind had dropped to a very quiet level. The excitement that ran as an undercurrent through the troop was palatable. We were ready!

Mike, Hardy, one of our chaperones, and I put our heads together and examined the chart eventually determining the direction we would be going which continued across the lake, including the border checkpoint, and down one of the two river arms that intersected the lake at the northern end. We chose the western arm. It was the 2nd day before we realized we had gone the wrong way and were paddling against the current. This was usually not a problem as the current was normally too slow to even notice but sometimes resulted in having to paddle against the current in faster rivers and to portage around several rapids instead of riding them from top to bottom. This caused some consternation for a few minutes but cooler heads prevailed when we realized there was no recourse but to continue on our determined course. This had been realized earlier in the day and, although some feelings were hurt in the ensuing conversation, we were all healed and resolved to make the best of what was actually a good, if not the best, situation. As we had reached our designated goal for the day we stopped to set-up camp. When most of us headed off for some fishing I went along, not yet having lost my dad’s tackle box and his rod n’ reel. That would happen the day after tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for me to get bored. I am not a fisherman and despite many attempts over the years eventually I eventually decided not to try to fish any more. As I had not yet learned this I headed out with the others to catch some bass or muskies for our supper. It probably took 10-minutes before I realized this activity wasn’t for me. I hung in there for a little while longer but, with no luck catching anything; it didn’t take long for me to head back to camp about ½ a-mile away. As I came around the bend in the river I noticed activity in camp that indicated tents were still being erected and rocks were being gathered for a campfire. As that looked like work, and, admittedly, I am to a certain extent, lazy, it didn’t take me long to realize I didn’t necessarily want to go there either. I turned back around before I had been spotted and headed back toward the fishermen.

Before I reached the little cove I headed toward shore intending to sneak up in the guys and spy on their fishing. I pulled myself forward by using the cattails and undergrowth and managed to locate a point where I could push the rear of the canoe onto a sunken log that was just a few inches beneath the surface. Then I could sit back against the stern gunwale, put my feet up on the other seat and doze for awhile. I noticed several enormous fish heads lying on the shore near a spot where it was obvious animals had visited. Evidently bears had been slapping fish out of the water and consuming this feast in its entirety leaving only the heads as evidence of their visit. This area was maybe 10 feet to my right and was a spot where the brush had been cleared by frequent animal activity.

I had been dozing for several minutes when I heard the crack of wood which, with all of the sounds of the woods, I ignored. It was fairly close but then the woods were full of sounds, some near, some more distant. I heard a bit of movement immediately behind me but I ignored that as well having already spent several minutes watching playing birds and squirrels when I had first arrived. The animals, although cute, were not interesting enough that I didn’t eventually lose interest and find a comfortable position. I was dozing slightly when I noticed the smell – strong, very gamy and impossible to ignore. I began to rouse. The smell was too strong to not do something about – I was going to have to find a better spot. There was also something familiar about the smell which I vaguely remembered from the previous day.

The prior day we had reached a portage that should have been easy to navigate by boat so we were uncertain as to our chart location when we found it dry with a well worn trail.

Mike and I had decided to find a high spot where we could see over the trees and find the landmarks that would help us find our exact location. We climbed a steep hill until we came upon a short cliff toward the top of the hill that would ultimately put us above the tree line of this part of the forest. We pulled ourselves over the edge and stood on the little shelf just below our ultimate goal of the peak which was still 10 feet over our heads. Directly in front of us was a cave. The entrance was around 4-feet high and dark tufts of thick stranded, wiry hair were piled up just inside where the wind had blown them. A shift in the wind brought a strong and quite horrible smell from the direction of the cave. I was already clambering up the slope toward the apex of the hill when we heard a loud crash nearby. “A BEAR!” Mike yelled and I felt his hand placed firmly against my buttocks. I was immediately launched into the air landing firmly on top of the hill with Mike standing at my side. We did not bother to look for landmarks as Mike immediately shot off into the woods in the opposite direction of the sounds we had heard.

“Mike!” I shouted but he had already disappeared into the brush, the bouncing branches the only evidence of his direction of travel. I took off in his wake. “Mike! Where are you?” I shouted. No answer but I heard the sounds of the fast traveling of a small body ahead and turned in that direction hoping it was Michael and not the still invisible bear. I almost passed him when I heard in a low voice “Psst! Hey! Over here!” Mike was well hidden behind a bush listening for any evidence of our being followed. Nothing. No noise. Silence.

We headed back in the general direction we had come from eventually finding the shoreline and heading in the direction of the gathered men and boys. We excitedly relayed our experience and resolved to find the trail by sticking to the chart and NOT setting off through an unfamiliar forest.

Now that same awful smell was the same that came to my nose now as I sat dozing in the canoe.

That was when I heard a loud crash immediately behind me that sounded like a falling tree and I whipped around to see the cause. As I sat up and turned I saw a huge brown bear (aka: Grizzly) and two cubs behind me. I distinctly remember doing a double-take as I was having trouble believing my eyes. The reason I remember the double-take so well is because the bear did exactly the same thing. Mama bear had evidently not heard me and, although I’m not sure, I imagine because I was also downwind she couldn’t smell my presence. I absently noticed the loud sound I had heard was the crash of her turning over a fallen tree to get to whatever was underneath. She had flipped this rather large tree over with one paw and this and the crashing brush may have hidden any sound of my presence. As I whipped around in her direction, immediately taking the entire scene in, she noticed me and turned her head in my direction doing a textbook double-take that mirrored my own reaction. This was where our behavior began to take on the characteristics of our own species: my heart rose into my throat and she rose onto her hind legs.

A great roar rang out as she reached her full height. It shook me to my very bones and I looked up at the bear that was now towering above me. It was at this point I realized if she fell forward I would easily be within one or two steps. Her open mouth could have held my entire head. I felt distinctly like an appetizer. She took one step toward me, our eyes locked. I was frozen in place. She turned her head to glance at the two cubs, both of whom were still oblivious to my presence, or at least not concerned by it. Breaking our eye contact set me in motion. I immediately reacted: throwing one foot over the side of the canoe and pushing off against the log I was anchored upon. I put paddle to water and did my best to put some distance between us. I didn’t look back. I had no time. I heard water splash and I accelerated, my fear overcoming any peace I may have still felt. She was coming after me!!

The others never saw the bear although they admitted to hearing the crash, the growl and some splashing. They did decide that if I could have kept up the effort I was expending when I shot out of the shoreline I could have pulled a water-skier. They said the bow was pointed at the heavens and I was leaving a wake to my rear.

We headed back to camp in the gathering dusk. We held the 4-canoes together with the front resident holding the gunwales together while the rear paddlers and the paddlers in the outside boats doing all of the work. We kept to the center of the now narrow-looking river quickly finding the center if we got too close to one shore or the other. After a short paddle we reached camp.

Since that day I’ve seen many bears and never felt the anxiety I felt that day. Why? I’ve decided I no longer have those feelings because either 1) I have not since been surprised by any bear or perhaps it’s because 2) they have all been in the zoo.

I think maybe it’s a subtitle combination of the two.