My body became flat against the ground, but my mind was still a wind-tossed tempest. I laid in wait of peace, continually listening for anything abnormal outside the tent. As I did so, the waters of my mind began to swell less and less with time. My still body slowly slipped into a soft slumber. Hours passed before I awoke, but when I did my mind resumed a sharp investigation of all sounds surrounding the tent. I waited to hear something rummaging through our packs. Instead, I fell asleep to silence. I awoke within the hour and took account of all sounds once more. Nothing.
While I lay cocooned and motionless in my sleeping bag a few more cycles of sleeping and listening came to pass. Each time I awoke, I waited for signs of sunlight. Like a butterfly about to break free, I became restless as the darkness lingered on and cold air began to infiltrate my cocoon. I drifted in and out of sleep.
When I awoke to sounds outside the tent I knew I had get up. The sounds were not of something rummaging through our packs but of birds chirping happily in the gentle morning sun. I was ready to get up so as to become warm. I ventured out of the tent into the thirty-something degree air and surveyed the sky through a haze of pine trees. Taking in a breath of crisp morning air and hearing the busy voices of forest critters I could tell the waters of fear and anxiety had grown calm since the darkness left. I realized I was ready for some smooth sailing out on the morning waters; I was ready to hike. As I walked over to our bear-safe container of food and carried it back to the tent I felt soreness in my muscles; remnants from yesterday's hike. I grabbed our bag of extra food that hung from the cabin roof and pulled out an apple. The fresh crunch of my juicy breakfast not only brought a sweet taste to my mouth but also an eagerness to move. The only problem I saw was that Kayla did not share my eagerness. I tried to convince her to get up but it seemed to be to no avail.
Annoyingly persistent, I nagged at her until I saw she began to move and respond.
Disgruntled, I sat down on a stump and took out my map, occasionally glancing at the tent. I studied the map. I looked up when the tent began to wiggle. Kayla was getting up. Turning my eyes back to the map, I saw how far we had gone and how far we had hoped to go. Miles would need to be made up today. In increments I threw out remarks about how we needed to get going. With each remark my urgency became increasingly transparent. I thought back on the night prior and feared we would encounter storms of anxiety tonight if we did not get going. Sitting there on the stump, I realized we were set at different speeds. To me, Kayla seemed to move in slow motion and I was trying to switch her into a higher gear. When I did, she would looked at me. I should have just been quiet.
Something was moving in the corner of my eye. I turned my head as a park ranger walked down the trail. Before walking passed us, he noticed me and came over to talk. I grabbed our permit and explained why we weren't camping where we were supposed to. He continued on his way. Soon enough the tent was down and we were on our way.
Rays of late summer sun warmed the atmosphere and beat down on us while we hiked. We followed the river for several miles until coming to the end of Death Canyon. The river ran up the face of the canyon wall in front of us. Nowhere to go but up. It was past noon and I promised we would stop for lunch at the top of the canyon wall. The first step up was easy but each subsequent step was harder than the last. Our packs pulled heavily on our shoulders. It was clear to me that we had brought too many things; namely, too much food. Persevering, we hiked back and forth on the face of the canyon until we had to stop. We set our bags down and rested. After a short break we were back at it. When we finally did reach the top of the canyon we were joined by others whose pace was upsetting.
We indulged in some lunch before walking along the canyon shelf wall for several hours. The geology was different up here. The rocks on the ground looked like the ancient ruins of past civilizations. Rhythmically stopping for rest and water, we maintained an adequate pace that kept my anxiety at bay.
Before we knew it, we came to a fork in the trail. Since it would be further out of our way and more hiking for tomorrow, we decided to abandon plans of camping at a lake further down the trail. We set up the tent in a low-lying grassy meadow nearby the Teton creek. Both Kayla and I scarfed down some dinner and started to relax for the first time on the hike. Kayla took out a book and and I went to the creek for water. I walked over to the creek and followed the water up to a little waterfall, where I filled my nalgene bottle to the brim. Dropping two pills into the water, I waited for the water to become sterile. The sun began to set and I decided to place our food away from the tent, in case any bears came along looking for food.
About 200 feet away from our tent, I placed our bear-safe container on a rock that was at the base of a small cliff. I figured we would be able to see the container as soon as we opened the tent door in the morning. Since we were in a meadow with few trees and we failed to bring any rope, I looked for somewhere to hang the bag of food. I spotted a down tree overhanging the small rock cliff where the bear-safe container was. I climbed up the side of the hill and tested the dead tree. Gripping branches from a neighboring tree, I crawled out on the dead trunk and swung the bag around a limb. It caught and I secured it was a bungee cord. "Ha," I thought, "any bear that tries to climb out here to get our bag of food will surely plummet."
And with that, I settled in for the night and awaited sleep after the second day of our hike.
(I took this photo from the limb where I hung the bag)
I slept much better the second night and was prepared for the cold. When it was time to get up, I unzipped my bag and unzipped the tent door. My eyes began adjusting as I looked out. I did not see the container on the rock. I glanced up and saw that the bag was still dangling in the air. On my hands and knees, I occupied the space in the door. I searched once more with my eyes, trying to find the container. Gone. I crawled out of the tent and slowly walked towards the cliff. I blinked frequently to speed up the process of adjusting my groggy eyes. Stepping up onto the I rock where I had placed the container I looked down and saw the container. A sigh of release. I jumped down off the rock and grabbed the container. As I picked it up, I noticed something was different. There were now scratch marks defacing the cover.
One by one, thoughts came tumbling down into my head. "Curious," I thought, "I don't remember those being there." More thoughts. "I suppose it might have fallen." Moments passed. New thoughts. "But this is too heavy to have been blown by the wind." I looked up. My eyes had now fully adjusted. "Uh, oh," I muttered. The bag I had seen from the tent door was still the same bag I had put up on the limb, only with some minor adjustments I had failed to notice earlier. What now remained blowing in the wind was nothing more than torn and shredded remnants still tied with a bungee. The bits of the bag fluttered in the wind like a flag. It was clear the bag was empty. I looked underneath the limb but could see no food. I suspected rodents had made off with the food, making several joyful trips. I imagined the glee upon their tiny faces as they ran off to tell their friends; mental images of bitter contrast to my current feelings.
Scouring the landscape for happy rodents, I drew my eyes back to the bushes below the limb. I walked towards the bushes. Audibly, I began to think out loud, "I suppose it could be a bear that got the food." I tried to convince myself. "I should probably yell out warnings if it is the bear. Just in case. To warn it I am coming." I walked up the hill. "Hey bear," I said fairly loudly. I took another step towards the bushes. "Hey bear," I said again. Instantly, two black rockets shot up a tree out of the bushes. Before they even stopped scurrying I knew. I felt like a father catching his kids doing something they are not supposed to. The kids stop doing whatever it is they are not supposed to be doing and, as quick as they can, throw on a face of innocence. Well, the black rockets stopped half way up the tree and looked at me, wearing those same faces of innocence. I saw those faces but I knew...I knew we had been robbed by two bear cubs.
I watched them and they watched me. They saw my face of disapproval. I said nothing to them. I simply spoke with a stern look upon my face before walking back to the tent. The bear cubs didn't know what to do. "I had been within twenty feet of the bushes," I thought, "how come they didn't hear me earlier?" I turned to look at the bears as I walked away. They watched me back. "I'd better tell Kayla," I said to myself. I approached the tent and told Kayla. I could tell she thought I was joking. I figured she might. The cubs climbed down the tree and back into the bushes. I insisted to Kayla that bears had gotten our food. I pointed but we could see nothing. Finally, a larger mother bear came over to check on her cubs. Kayla and I both saw her from the tent.
I suggested what we should do. I suggested we wait. Wait, like the first night, for the bears to finish doing whatever it is they were doing.
We packed the tent and our bags, keeping one eye on the bears.
When the bears had eaten their fill and we had nothing left to pack, I walked over to the bushes. I yelled to make sure the bears heard me coming this time. I yelled but nothing moved. The bears had already left. I wedged myself into the thicket. Now I saw our food, or at least the wrappers to our food. In the thick bushes I could hardly move. To my astonishment, some of the food had not been eaten. I yelled out to Kayla to inform her of such great news.
Then, I saw a storm coming in my head. The waves grew larger from the approaching storm. Riding on the whipping winds of a fast-approaching storm, the waves of fear from the bears returning for the food began to crash into me. I quickly squeezed everything I found into my pockets. A Snickers bar here, a couple Goldfish there. A race had begun and I didn't care about what I was pushing into my pockets. Some of the Capri Suns weren't even empty; they simply had teeth marks all over them. I didn't take the time to notice. I mushed them into my pockets too. I tucked and dove through branches, wedging myself into places I would have never normally gone. When I had everything I could find, I burst forth from the thicket and came back to the tent. I spilled the bounty. A half eaten Slim Jim was still salvageable. I was ecstatic. We tried to remember what was still missing. An orange and some crackers were a couple of the things MIA. I would make one last rescue attempt before we left forever.
I started by retrieving the shreds of the plastic bag. As I took the bag down I imagined new thoughts, not of happy rodents but of intrigued bears-bears that just stumbled upon this strange bag. A few sniffs and the bears would have had a sparked interest. I imagined them pawing at the bag, reaching to grab it. Just a little further. They must have swung and batted at it like a kid swinging at a piñata until finally the bag burst with tasty treats spilling onto the ground.
"Those bears...up to no good," I thought to myself. I finally spotted the cracker bag and came back down the hill. "I couldn't find the orange," I told Kayla as I sat next to her and handed her the cracker crumbs. We munched on few more "left-overs" before heading on our way.
As I threw my bag over my shoulder, I took one last look at the cliff. I imagined one of the bears sitting somewhere with a big round orange stuck in its mouth. I couldn't help but laugh as we walked away.
(Momma bear walking away)
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