I have lived my entire life in the same little town of Hendersonville NC. Now at 38, black bears are getting quite common here. They get into our trash, tear up bird feeders and even make appearances up town. However, this wasn’t always the case. As a child we would travel to Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge TN where bears seemed as mascots, even lovable characters representing the businesses that make up these crowded vacation destinations. Back in sleepy Hendersonville, that wasn’t the case. I heard of men that would hunt for bears, but they often traveled counties away to do so. Even though I lived in a rural area, we just never saw them. As a child they seemed almost like ghost, you heard of folks who had seen one but all the stories I’d been told of them were scary or ominous. Still, they weren’t a problem here. I would never have to worry about that!
My family was full of outdoorsmen. My father, grandfather, uncles and cousins all hunted and fished. One of our favorite things to do was and still is, trout fish. We all know the local creeks and rivers of our county like the back of our hand. However, like most things you do with repetition, regardless how much you enjoy it, you may get bored with it. Same goes for fishing the same spots over and over. Remember this was back before the internet, probably in the mid 90’s. I was around 14 years old and if you wanted to find something out like “where is a great place to go trout fishing” you couldn’t just Google it. You had to go ask around. Try the local mom and pop places. Walker Hardware, Blackwell’s bait shop, Marcum’s Buck and Bass. All the local men hangouts.
I don’t remember who in the family found it or where the information came from but one day my father asked me if I would want to go on a backcountry trout fishing trip in Tennessee. Of course, I wanted to go! Long hikes, tent camping and fishing were all things I was well accustomed to. Doing them in Tennessee on the other hand was not. So, plans were made, dates were set and gear packed.
Since I wasn’t an adult, I don’t remember the planning of the trip or even where we went. I especially don’t remember how the area we were going to, was always in the news for having reoccurring bear/human interactions. I didn’t know that this place was estimated to have the largest black bear population in Tennessee at the time. What I do remember is pulling up to the big gravel parking lot full of cars and tons anticipation for a fun weekend of fishing. The next thing I recall is as we are putting our packs on, gearing up about to head out, a forest ranger approaching us. There was roughly six to eight of us, cousins, uncles, my father and me. The ranger kind of motioned us over for a huddle in the gravel lot. Kind of odd I though but maybe this is customary in Tennessee. I wasn’t prepared for the conversation the adults were about to have. I don’t remember all the details but the ranger was warning us! He asked where we were going, how long we planned to be away and then laid out the dangers ahead. I was in shock! Evidently some hikers had been attacked recently and it wasn’t if we would see a bear but when and what to do when it happens.
With all the wind in my sails and enthusiasm ripped from my young heart, down the trail we went. The plan was to walk up this trail that parallels a river. We would fish at every good hole we found, camp that night and walk back the next day. Fishing all the way. Some of my first memories was walking along finding cow manure laying everywhere. It seemed like every hundred yards or so you would find some. It was like this for miles. Oddly these manure piles looked different. Not the patty shape you find on the farm. I asked someone, where are all the cows? What cows? The ones pooping everywhere! With a chuckle, that’s not cow manure, its bears!
Ok, to say my young nerves were on edge would be an understatement. This stuff was everywhere. I was so nervous I don’t even have many fishing memories from this trip. Evidently there was fishing memories made because we had trout for supper. I just remember worrying if the smell of fish cooking was going to draw in a bear. Sitting around the camp fire that night, every twig snap, every leaf rustling was an impeding encounter with death waiting in the darkness. If one man got up to go relieve himself, internally I would make peace with myself about never seeing him again. No sleep for me that night, just hoping to survive till daybreak and discover who had been taken during the night.
We awakened to a beautiful day. Everyone was intact and accounted for. Must have been my vigilant prayers thru out the night, right? Breakfast was made, camp broke and down the trail we went. We might make it out alive just yet. The plan for the day was to walk the trail same as yesterday. Parallel the river as we go, hitting every hole in the river. As the group of courageous men went on, one person would stop at a hole to fish but the group would carry on. Hole after hole the group got smaller and more spread apart. Feeling like the safety of my father was in my hands, I obviously stayed with him. You know to protect him! Soon I started to relax and even started to fish and let my guard down! Just after catching a good brown trout, I held it up to show my dad. Sadly, dads not there. Frantically looking around, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I’m all alone in bear country!
If you have never hiked the trails running along a river in the smokey mountains, lets fill you in on how perfect of an ambush site this could be for a monster. Usually, these trails are very narrow. Almost always there is a straight drop off into the river on one side. The other side most of the time is straight up a mountain side. Needless to say, the only place to flee is either up or down the trail. Not to mention a lot of times the trail is ominously covered, side to side and overhead with the thick evergreen Rhododendron. Looking down the trail it appears like a long dark tunnel, even if you had wings, you couldn’t take flight away from any attack.
Now in panic mode I’m briskly walking down this trail. Frantically looking for my dad along the river. Remember I have a full hiking pack on my back. Full of food and smelly dishes from the night before. In my mind I’m a walking open, smelly sardine can. I was a big husky kid plus this heavy pack is going to slow me down if I need to flee! Clank, clank the pots and pans bang together in the pack with every step I make. Each step I’m getting more paranoid of my surroundings. Could a bear be in the bushes? Just as I start into a long, dark bend of the trail, I hear something rustle in the thicket! Bam! Like a shot from a gun, I’m gone. In a dead sprint for my life. Remember I’m a big kid, pack weighted down full of bear bait. I don’t stand a chance. I can hear it coming, sounds like a horse running up behind me. Getting closer and closer. I can literally hear it right behind my head. I’m giving it all I have but I feel myself getting slower. I’m starting to wear down. This is the end of me for sure!
Just as I think the bear is about to reach forward and cut my legs out from under me, I round the corner of the trail and start into a straight away. To my surprise and slight relief only twenty yards ahead of me is one of my uncles walking down the trail. Immediately after I spot him, he looks over his shoulder with a slight glance. His one eye that can see behind him widens! He sees the bear gaining on me. Like lightning he is in a dead sprint away! Of course, seeing my uncles fear only worsens mine. Another shot of adrenaline kicks in! I grab a higher gear and book it. It only took a moment but seemed like an eternity before I caught up with my uncle. All the while I could still hear the heavy bear keeping pace! Does this thing never give up or get tired? Suddenly I notice that I have passed my uncle. I hear him come to a stop. The bear must of gotten him. To this day I don’t know why I stopped. Did I really want to see this? Maybe it was so I could tell his family what happened. As I slowly turned, I didn’t hear any screams? Only heavy breathing.
Standing about fifty feet down the trail from where I had come, was my uncle. He was alive. Surprisingly he was still standing. Granted he was bent half way over trying to catch his breath from our recent marathon, he was alive. On top of that the bear was gone too? My uncle shouted between breaths why were you running? I asked him the same question. Why were you? My uncle replied, I heard something big and heavy running up on me, I thought it was a bear! As the revelation of what just happed dawning on me, I replied nope just me. We sat down to catch our breath as I filled in my uncle on what happened. Laughing now, we pondered and filled in the gaps in each other’s mind on what we had perceived as our demise. Giggling over it and a bit embarrassed now, my father came around the corner. Noticing how sweaty, disheveled, and out of breath we were he asked what happened? We both looked at him with a smile and said, we just out ran a bear!
Its funny how our mind works. In a situation like this the mind will grab bits and pieces of information then weave them into our greatest fears. Realizing later the initial rustling I heard was a twig I’d tripped over kicking up leaves behind me. The heavy foot steps were my own, disguised behind the rattling pans! My uncle’s bear was none other than yours truly. A big husky kid, pack full, sprinting up to him on a dark scary trail!
In all honesty this is a comical tale of paranoia and fear brought on by an active imagination. But for me and my uncle this will always be to day we survived a smokey mountain bear attack!
