Bear In Mind

by Jet Black (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find USA

I was still, but my surroundings were not: they loudly rustled and snapped unlike their usual peaceful demeanor, each chaotic sound making my heart jump. As I dragged my vision from the trail to the thick forest of pine trees, trying to confirm what I had just seen, I thought that I may have arrived at my end. That morning, we chose a new trail in the Tetons – a breathtaking and exhilarating area – leaving behind familiar hikes from past years. However, this one ended at a location different than the starting point. Our usual plan was employed; have someone backtrack to the car mid-hike to gather everyone at the new end point. It was my turn. I Parted with my friends, grateful for time alone among the mountains. Solitude enough to fully taste the scented air and admire the wisdom of towering, age-old trees. I recalled the massive “Phelps Lake” we passed earlier; the appeal of cool, clear water seemed to pull to me. Though I had time to spare, I ducked into the wilderness refuge at a jog. Soon the trees began to thin and roll back, like velvet stage curtains, and I was met by an expanse of blue water and a purple-mountain background. I slowed my pace, the pulse in my feet on the packed ground matching time with my heavy breathing. The view was sublime, and I leisurely bumped along the trail, hugging the lakeside before disappearing back into the forest. It was at that point, happily meandering back into the wooded area, that my mind registered something amiss. I stopped, digging through my senses until I uncovered what was putting me on edge. It was footsteps. Footsteps that matched my own, only heavier. Now, the weighty depth of those footfalls became distinct. There was something in the woods. Something big enough to crush the foliage it walked through. My pounding heart moved into my throat. I stared hard into the dark trees, their thick shade becoming eerie, hoping to identify the source. A moose perhaps? I never saw it. A shadowy mass caught my eye as I scanned the impenetrable tree line. Was it moving? I couldn’t tell and passed it off as hyper-alert senses playing tricks. The footsteps faded and I continued slowly, cautiously onward. Upon rounding the next blind corner, my stomach dropped. Feet away from where I halted stood a large animal. I scrambled backward, feeling the dust slide beneath me. The beast mirrored my surprise diving wildly into the foliage, crashing and thrashing around in a raucous struggle. My recognition finally caught up with my understanding. What I just nearly ran into was a bear. To my distress, it reappeared further down the trail ahead of me. I willed it to stay away, but, as if hearing my plea, it began to bound towards me, like a dog eager to play. I jogged backward, never taking my gaze off the thing moving towards me. The gap between us remained constant. That is, until it jolted from its happing bounding to a dead run. I froze, my legs and knees reflexively bending from fear and expectation of a struggle. I learned a lot about myself from the thoughts and feelings that passed through my mind right then. Feelings ranging from sympathy for family and friends who might find me to an unexpected peace about the life I’d lived. Thankfully, the expected impact never came. The bear skidded to a stop. If I reached out, I could have tapped its nose. Time froze as we stared at each other. The bear, suddenly uninterested, turned, walked away up the trail, and disappeared from sight and sound into the forest. I stood motionless, but quickly realized that I wasn’t breathing and inhaled deeply, trying to keep my heart from bursting through my chest and gather my obliterated thoughts. I’ve replayed this story many times in my head, keeping the details accurate as possible. I remember my actions well, but what resounds with me today is the self-realization that occurred in what I felt. It was a lesson that came in both intense emotion and a simultaneous quiet calm that met in that moment.