While camping alone in Truckee, California, I was almost eaten by a bear. Twice.
As I am here to recount this story, obviously I survived. But, I must admit, it was a rather close call.
I made reservations a couple of months ago for this trip and, as the time to leave got closer, every one of my family members suddenly had an excuse as to why they couldn’t go with me. Ordinarily, if everyone else decides not to go, then I end up staying at home as well. This time, however, I had already paid to reserve my spot for all three nights, and the only thing I hate more than going camping all by myself is not using something that I have already paid for. So, away I went.
When I arrived at the campgrounds, I noticed that approximately every three feet there were signs advertising that bears had been seen in the area and for campers to watch out for them. The signs had pictures of large, unfriendly looking animals with captions that said: Do not feed bears; lock up all food or bears will find it; and, secure dumpster when throwing away garbage because … bears, dummy!
It was all rather intimidating, but as I am not very bright and, more importantly, too cheap to just drive away and leave my non-refundable deposit, I parked my trailer and set up camp.
The very first night, as I lay curled up in my bed trying to fall asleep, I heard pine needles rustling outside the trailer as something rather large moved around my campsite. The noises got closer as I lay there, silently hoping whatever it was would just go away. Finally, I heard heavy breathing and a snort from something right next to my head. The bear was inches away from me with only three millimeters of aluminum between me and it.
I knew that in the morning, other campers were going to discover chunks of me embedded in bear poop spread out all over the woods.
I shifted to move further away from my nighttime visitor and bumped my head against the wall of the trailer. The noise startled the bear and it ran off into the trees with a distinctive clippity-clop, clippity-clop.
Now, I am not a zoologist, and I do not claim to know everything there is to know about bears, but, I am pretty certain that they do not make a “clippity-clop” noise when they run. Horses clippity, and donkeys clop. Bears, however, not so much. That particular noise requires a very specific set of footwear, and the last time I watched a nature program with bears on it, I got the distinct impression that most of them did not have hooves.
Gathering my courage, I forced myself to open the blinds on one of the windows and look outside. I turned on a flashlight and pointed it out the window so I could see what was lurking out in the gloom. My light surprised a small herd of deer grazing right next to my trailer. Several of them gave me looks that very clearly stated, “Dude, can’t you see we’re eating here? Can you maybe cool it with the light?”
Realizing that I was going to live through the night after all, I turned off the flashlight and crawled back into bed. It was a terrifying ordeal, but I got through it, and I believe I am now stronger because of the experience.
The following morning, I was again visited by a bear. This one had discovered my breakfast leftovers in a garbage can right outside my trailer door. I heard it rustling around in the garbage and I went outside to chase it away. When I exited the trailer, I did not see anything right away. I thought that maybe it had already run off. But, as I stood next to the garbage can, scanning the campsite for intruders, the can began to shake, and I heard something moving around inside.
Trying not to startle the tiny bear that I knew must be foraging inside my garbage, I pulled out my phone, held it over the top of the can and took a picture. As I did, the bear leapt out of the garbage and attacked. I only survived by having the good fortune to duck out of the way at the last second, causing the bear to miss my head by mere inches. That, and the fact that it was actually not a bear, but rather a chipmunk stealing my garbage.
It was quite a camping trip. Not everyone can claim that they survived two bear attacks inside a twenty-four hour period. It is not an experience that I recommend, but I am confident that if I can get through it unscathed, then so can anyone else.
You see, I learned one very important lesson during that trip that I would now like to share with all of you, just in case you find yourself in similar circumstances:
The best way to survive a confrontation with a bear is to be mistaken and discover that what you thought was a bear was actually just a deer … or a chipmunk. I strongly recommend this tactic. It works every time.
Not a bear.
Also, not a bear.
You’re welcome.