well, I dunno, all these 'bear meets man' epics in the wilderness! I had a very scary experience in Yosemite - bear trying to dismantle our VW Beetle with me, my wife and daughter just a few metres away in a tent. And 500 miles from anywhere when canoeing the Mackenzie/Rat/Yukon river system, bear came drifting happily down the river one evening. It gave our riverside camp a good look over which was very scary as we only had a .22 for small game. Then drifted on down, I'ld like to say with a smile on his face.
A wolf was less scary; it was rooting in the riverbank for something - we drifted up in stealth mode and slapped it on it's bum with a paddle. It leapt into the air, saw us, spun round and disappeared at full speed into the bush.
Another day we heard a banshee-like screech, enough to make our hair stand on end. Was it a Sasquatch - the Yeti of the American wilderness? Again we slipped into stealth mode and paddled on cautiously, paddles never leaving the water, to see a lynx on a sand bank, totally pre-occupied, playing 'cat and mouse' with a gopher. As we drew quietly nearer, we could see it let the gopher go, turn its back on it and walk away ten yards or so to a position on the riverbank high above. The gopher lay trembling on the beach. Was it free to go? It took a cautious step. Its tormentor ignored it studiously. It took another step nearer to freedom - nothing happened. Then it set off fast, making for the undergrowth by the water's edge.
The lynx leapt through the air, raced down the beach and with another blood curdling scream caught it with one large paw and threw it high in the air. By this time, we had touched shore. The lynx was still unaware of our presence, so intense was its concentration on its prey. Once again in nature's glory, we stepped out of the canoe armed with our paddles, knights to the rescue. We had nothing to worry about - one look at these alien life forms and the lynx forgot the gopher and made a dash for the forest! The small animal lay quivering, wondering what new nightmare was about to befall it. We carried it into the undergrowth where it lay as though dead. By the time we'd had lunch, it had gone - our second good deed in two days but sadly counteracted by the fine fat rabbit we shot and ate that night (though we did share the scraps with a red fox that sat on the edge of our camp fire glow, eyeing us with curiosity). Such is life!
You clearly weren’t displaying a Shakespearean level of hubris, accordingly neither of the bears needed to eat you up… having walked Utah, the John Muir Trail and three days in the Appallachians, heard lots of great bare stories but didn’t meet any bears at all. Which suited me just fine, but my son was distinctly disappointed.
well, I dunno, all these 'bear meets man' epics in the wilderness! I had a very scary experience in Yosemite - bear trying to dismantle our VW Beetle with me, my wife and daughter just a few metres away in a tent. And 500 miles from anywhere when canoeing the Mackenzie/Rat/Yukon river system, bear came drifting happily down the river one evening. It gave our riverside camp a good look over which was very scary as we only had a .22 for small game. Then drifted on down, I'ld like to say with a smile on his face.
A wolf was less scary; it was rooting in the riverbank for something - we drifted up in stealth mode and slapped it on it's bum with a paddle. It leapt into the air, saw us, spun round and disappeared at full speed into the bush.
Another day we heard a banshee-like screech, enough to make our hair stand on end. Was it a Sasquatch - the Yeti of the American wilderness? Again we slipped into stealth mode and paddled on cautiously, paddles never leaving the water, to see a lynx on a sand bank, totally pre-occupied, playing 'cat and mouse' with a gopher. As we drew quietly nearer, we could see it let the gopher go, turn its back on it and walk away ten yards or so to a position on the riverbank high above. The gopher lay trembling on the beach. Was it free to go? It took a cautious step. Its tormentor ignored it studiously. It took another step nearer to freedom - nothing happened. Then it set off fast, making for the undergrowth by the water's edge.
The lynx leapt through the air, raced down the beach and with another blood curdling scream caught it with one large paw and threw it high in the air. By this time, we had touched shore. The lynx was still unaware of our presence, so intense was its concentration on its prey. Once again in nature's glory, we stepped out of the canoe armed with our paddles, knights to the rescue. We had nothing to worry about - one look at these alien life forms and the lynx forgot the gopher and made a dash for the forest! The small animal lay quivering, wondering what new nightmare was about to befall it. We carried it into the undergrowth where it lay as though dead. By the time we'd had lunch, it had gone - our second good deed in two days but sadly counteracted by the fine fat rabbit we shot and ate that night (though we did share the scraps with a red fox that sat on the edge of our camp fire glow, eyeing us with curiosity). Such is life!
You clearly weren’t displaying a Shakespearean level of hubris, accordingly neither of the bears needed to eat you up… having walked Utah, the John Muir Trail and three days in the Appallachians, heard lots of great bare stories but didn’t meet any bears at all. Which suited me just fine, but my son was distinctly disappointed.
Really enjoyed this, as ever!
Excellent again. I would never have thought of the Shakespeare connection. (But then I really don’t know Timon of Athens.)
Minor quibble: Bohemia is in the Czech Republic (I double-czeched).
Timon's not one of his best ... I could claim getting Bohemia wrong was a tribute to WS, could I?
You certainly could.