The Fault in our Popcorn

by Raichlee Kelly (Canada)

I didn't expect to find Canada

And in that moment, we realized that we had made a grave mistake... One summer, Mark and I made the decision to take a spontaneous camping trip to the most off the grid campground we could find. So we packed up all our gear, less a few important things that we forgot (like a toothbrush), and made the 4-hour drive to Algonquin National Park. Now, I believe anyone who is responsible enough to go camping on their own understands the risks associated with improper storage of supplies at nightfall, however, as 'city-kids gone wilderness explorer' we were set on achieving a true roughing it experience, and let me tell you, an experience is definitely what we got. Everything was going to plan. We successfully managed to pitch a tent, scoured the forest floor for kindling, and built a blazing fire, around which we drank and told stories until the wee hours of the morning. We even cooked some good old fashioned campfire popcorn (or erm, burned it to smithereens). It was getting late so we decided to hit the hay. Luckily, having read many articles on the 'do's' and 'dont's' of camping, I remembered to put all the food away in our bear-safe container and hang it from a tree. Feeling satisfied by the success of our trip so far we drifted off to the sound of crickets in our tiny little tent, swallowed up by the vastness of Algonquin National Park. mmmmfmmfhf I mumbled as I struggled to yell, but Mark had his hand over my mouth, eyes big, with a finger to his lips, telling me not to make a sound. A feeling of panic overtook me, slowly becoming paralyzing upon remembering that we were in the middle of nowhere. something was clearly wrong and I need to get out of there NOW. I remained silent, holding wide-eyed eye contact with Mark as the scuffling sounds outside the tent became more apparent to me. And in that moment, we realized that we had made a grave mistake. I heard the beast ferociously munching on what was likely to popcorn that I had *sigh* forgotten to hang from the tree. Idiot, idiot, Idiot, replayed in my head as I struggled to come to terms with the idea that this could be it for us; one peep and we would reach the same fate as the popcorn, annihilated by the furry beast. Minutes passed that felt like years, as mark and I lay side by side in the tent, too scared to even breathe. Every muscle in my body tense and aching, internally screaming while awaiting the retreat of our hangry friend. Suddenly, a mass of fur pressed against the side of the tent, rubbing against the flimsy nylon that separated us from our fate of becoming two human tacos as his next late-night snack. I wanted to scream, but one swipe of his paw and we were toast. By some miracle, it suddenly became silent. I was relieved to hear the thud of grizzly paws retreating into the forest, followed by the snap of twigs in the distance. I unclenched my muscles, stricken with embarrassment upon the realization that I had somehow peed my sleeping bag. However, both Mark and I were still too traumatized to lift a finger, let alone deal with the wetness of my sleeping bag, slowly seeping down towards my feet. Somehow, with the sound of crickets offering a sing-song lullaby, we drifted back to sleep until morning, with no further guest appearance from the hangry bear. At sunrise we exited the tent to find the remnants of popcorn scattered across the campsite, lawn chairs overturned, and the imprint of the grizzly paw less than a foot away from our tent. of course, I snapped a pic, rolled up my sleeping bag (which would later be thrown directly in the garbage) and we were on our way back to the city; this traumatizing event to remain in the back of our minds forever. To this day, our close encounter serves as a great laugh, and the photo still hangs on my wall to remind me why I will never go camping ever again.