Back from the deep, dark woods

Hello, Adventurers,

I return from the wilderness of Yosemite with a layer of dirt on my skin and the smell of campfires in my clothes and hair. The trip was incredible — a stream of clear, snow-melt water flowing beside my tent, the granite giants looming overhead and the stars guiding my way. I was able to focus on the adventure at hand without the distractions of the city and email. And on one particular hike on an extremely warm and dry day I was reminded of a part in Adventure Two: The Fakersville Power Station.

As Ida and I reached mile marker 6 on a deep wilderness trip I heard a branch snap up on the hill in front of us.

"Stop!" I said to Ida in a hashed voice.
"What?" She replied.
"I just heard something." All of my senses focused on the dense treeline at the top of the hill. "Up there."
Ida turned and spotted something on a fallen tree. "What is that? A fox?"
It wasn't a fox, and I didn't know what it was until the ball of fur turned and hopped down. It was a small black bear. Thankfully it trotted away from us.
"It's a bear," I said.
"Really!" Ida exclaimed.
That's when a 400 pound Momma bear stood up and stared down the hill at us.
Her eyes locked onto us and the fur on her shoulders raised. She was in control, only 100 feet away and us on the downside of a slope.
Ida and I pulled the whistles from our pockets and blew as hard as our lungs could while our stomach fell to our feet. I waved my arms, trying to look bigger than I really am and Ida beat on a log with a stick.
Momma bear didn't flinch or turn.
My mind raced with "What if's."—"What if she runs down the hill?" "What if she attacks?"
TWEEEEEEET!
BANG!
BANG!
TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
Momma bear took a step forward, off the log.
TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
"She's coming!"
"What if it's me against her?"
"I have to protect Ida—with what? A stick? A tiny pocket knife?"
I could see the headlines now—"Writer dies while on an adventure with wife."
Momma bear turned, looked back, snorted and walked away.
I looked at Ida. Fear masked her face. I probably looked the same.
With the whistle in hand I ordered, "Let's go!"
We hurried down the narrow trail, covering the next two miles in a record 12 minutes, Ida with the whistle at the ready—me scanning the trees for any movement or sound.

When we reached the Ranger Station to report the sighting the ranger told us, "Oh, you're so lucky. Usually people only see the butt of the bear as it's walking away."
"Lucky!" I thought. "I just stared down a bear twice my weight for twenty seconds."
But now that I look back and tell you this story I realize I was lucky. One for seeing something most people never will and second for experiencing an event had by Edgar, Audrey and Garrett Font in Fakersville. I imagine they were a bit more afraid facing a mountain lion, but still I thank Grandpa Edgar for telling me how to fend of a wild animal.

Until next time Adventurers, have a wild week!
Your friend & storyteller,
patrick