I really thought I was going to see a bear this time. The ground was soft and wet. I barely made any noise as I moved through the forest. Thanks to the heavy rain, there was not a soul out there to be seen or heard. There were not even any signs. No tracks, and no scratching posts; one of these days maybe, one of these days…I will see one again. The last time I saw irrefutable evidence was a beautiful print of a mother and her cub, pressed into a thick mudslide up on Cat Ridge Rd. That was nearly eight years ago. But I have seen bears down in the Big South Fork. I once saw a lazy adult sauntering up to a bluff-line above Big Island. He didn’t even stop to look at me.
It’s awesome the things you witness when you’re out in the woods alone. Hiking groups afford a measure of safety, but going solo is a different experience entirely. Several times on my journey, birds frantically cried out in alarm as I approached. As I started to swing a leg over a blow-down across the trail, I noticed a small snail making its way across the circumference of the log. I stopped to take a closer look, and it retracted into its shell. Foggy mists hid in rockshelters like ominous ghosts, giving their open jagged maws a dangerous appearance, and a large aggregation of rocks resembled Jabba the Hutt.
One time I fell as I traversed the face of a large slippery rock, and I thus decided to avoid rocks and the squishy wooden footbridges all together.
As I ascended out of the drainage and went back to the plateau, I got my first whiff of civilization. I could smell a nearby campfire wafting down the valley. I slowed my pace and softened my step. Several times I stifled the impulse to clear my throat. It’s a fun game I play in the woods. I like to see how close I can get before someone notices me. I also like to observe the situation before I stumble into it. Humans are indeed the most dangerous creatures to be encountered in the wilderness. The fire was much farther away than I first thought. I walked nearly a half mile before I encountered its owners. It was actually a trio of old-timers car-camping up on the ridge.
I had originally planned to camp the night and hike the Blue Heron trail in the morning, but the visitor center had already closed, and I was unable to get a permit. I have to mow the lawn and do laundry anyway.