Oh Fuck, A Bear. [Chapter One]: Dave Gets Himself Lost 1 September 2018 *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* I hate walking through snow. I hate the sound. I hate the effort. I hate walking. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* Okay so I don’t really, I’m just stressed so for the moment I really hate it. I can only blame myself. Why couldn’t I just have admitted I was an idiot and didn’t know where the hotel was? “Oh, let me, a beginner, attempt a jump without checking what was on the other side of the hill. “What’s that? A cliff, you say? Why, safety instructor, what ever could you mean? Yes, I’m fine, I am totally uninjured after falling five stories into a snowbank, and yes, I do in fact know a way back up this sheer cliff face and to the hotel but thank you for your concern, kind bystander, misplaced though it may be. “For I, having spent my American childhood running free in the wilds of the park system and suckling at the tit of Mother Earth for nourishment, know positively and absolutely where I am at all times.” Lost, I am positively and absolutely lost somewhere in the Canadian Rockies surrounded by fuck-ass big trees and probably even fuck-ass bigger bears. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* Or wolves, maybe a goose or two, definitely squirrels though. My teachers never put too much emphasis on Canadian bushcraft and wildlife, almost like trying to safely navigate through the Pacific Northwest wasn’t a big concern. Well, Mrs Mitchell, wonder how the 'wonderful world of calculus' will help here? I miss her, she was a nice lady. You know what, if I get back to civilization I’m going to send her an email and tell her she was a great teacher. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* When. When I get back, not if. And now it’s snowing more. Perfect. Now that I think about it I should be paying more attention to where I’m going because that tree looks really familiar. Hm, and so do those footprints. Those other footprints are new, though. Oh, well fuck me. Like I didn’t already have enough problems now I have a fucking bear following me. Those are my footprints going off that way, intersecting with grizzly tracks that immediately turn to follow right next to mine. Thank you, Scoutmaster Ted, for teaching me, a city-going child, the difference between grizzly and black bear tracks like I would ever encounter a grizzly on the East Coast. But thank you anyway for giving me the tools I needed to identify the species of bear that is going to eat me. I hope he chokes on my femur. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* Okay, positive thoughts. Mr Ted definitely deserves an email so when I get back to the hotel room I gotta send one to Mrs Mitchell and Mr Ted, call mom and dad and tell them I love them, invest in bear repellent. Heh, guess comedy only works as a coping mechanism as long as it’s A) not getting increasingly dark and B) you’re not being actively tracked by a very large predator known for being immune to small caliber weapons. The continuously increasing snowfall isn’t helping either so that’s point number three. If there was ever a time climate change would help someone out now would be that time. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* Of course, without the snowfall I wouldn’t have seen my tracks and known I’d looped around. That also means the bear wouldn’t have seen my trail and decided on a nice mid-winter snack. But bears track by scent so really it just means that I’d be oblivious to my dire situation. But if there wasn’t any snow I wouldn’t be at a ski resort. Okay so climate change is still a big 'NO' on the 'What Would Help Me Out of This Situation' list of helpful things, good to know. Alright, if it comes down to it just climb a tree. Best case scenario: the bear leaves you alone when you don’t come down, worst case: you get a few more moments of precious life. Win-win, right? *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* I should sing a traveling song. Take my mind off everything. To hell if it attracts the bear, it already knows where I’m going. “I would like to, reach out my hand. Ombesayoh, ombeh tell you to run, bubadasay bubadayung.” Man, it’s been a while. How did it go again? Wait, wasn’t this in Brother Bear? How I would love for this to turn out like Brother Bear. No, it wasn’t in Brother Bear, it was the other one. On My Way? Damnit, Phil Collins, this isn’t as fun as you made it out to be! Where’s my lovingly animated Disney adventure? What’s this shit with actual bears and imminent danger and the ever-present feeling of doom? Give me the brightly colored scenery and mild-mannered wildlife I was promised! *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* Damnit, I’m actually lost. This isn’t some five-minute scare when you lose sight of your tent at camp. It isn’t a dream, I am genuinely lost in the middle of the honest-to-god woods being stalked by a grizzly with paws as big as my face. This has not been a very good vacation. Lackluster accommodations, mediocre food, decent slopes that would have been excellent if I had an extra day to practice and didn’t fling myself dick first over a cliff day one. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* I’m starting to feel like my situation is not going to improve before it’s too dark to see. My only hope is someone leaves a ligHT ON IN A NEARBY CABIN! “OHSWEETFUCKINGCHRISTSANCTUARY!” *Crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch.* *"Rruhr, gruh, groARRh!"* OH *DOUBLEFUCKINGCHRIST* THATSOUNDSLIKEABIGFUCKINGBEAR. “NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE, NO!” *Crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchcrunch-* Don’t stop don’t stop keep going don’t run into a tree get to the door don’t run into a- *Whap!* -branch. "Ow." [Chapter Two]: A Warm Cabin In Canada 2 September 2018 Couches are great, I love couches. Especially this one, because DAMN is it comfy. I can’t say my head is feeling good, but I’m ignoring its throbbing complaints to enjoy whatever remains of the morning wrapped in this oh-so-warm blanket. For the next… ten minutes, yeah that sounds good, I am going to lay on this heavenly piece of furniture and not think about how I got in the cabin or what became of the very angry grizzly. Mmm. Well, I may not like it, but I did say ten minutes so it’s time to get a move on. “Hup!” *Crkk.* Oh, that’s a lovely sound. Apparently, my neck was not spared the branch’s wrath. I still think I got off lucky, considering I’m still alive and neither of my femurs is currently lodged in the throat of a bear. So yeah, lucky. This is a nice place. Larger than I think it should be but still cozy. Wood stove surrounded by big couches, connected kitchen with an impressive assortment of cast iron hanging over the countertop, desk in the corner with a disassembled laptop. First thought that comes to mind is that Stephen King book with that psycho who helps people in trouble and then traps them in her house to write stories endlessly. I think, I’ve never actually read it. Doesn’t matter anyway, my legs aren’t broken and it doesn’t look like anyone else is here. Well my jacket and boots are over by the door, which explains why I’m walking around barefoot. Either my rescuer was kind enough to wrestle them off my limp body or I took them off myself and don’t remember. Both of those possibilities speak of serious head injuries, so before any emails are sent, phone calls made, and bear repellent purchased, first order of business is a trip to the hospital to get checked out. Which might be a while, considering the kitchen light switch isn’t working. And the fridge isn’t humming. Hall light? No, that’s out too. Moving on to the switches by what is probably the front door. Aaaaand nothing. I can still see fine without them, the sunlight coming in is blindingly bright as it is. You know what, I should look outside, see if I can spot any familiar landmar- “Ah! Shit, that’s bright!” Hm, well by the looks of things outside, there was more than the ‘heavy snowfall’ I remember from last night. And look, I can still make out the pretty bits on the branches because they’ve been seared permanently into my retinas. Okay, not doing that again. Lots of snow, may have knocked the power out. Or the lights run on a generator, who knows. Sun’s pretty low in the sky, perfectly positioned to reflect as much light into my freshly awakened face. I honestly can’t tell if it’s early morning or mid-afternoon. Where’s my watch? Running list of items on my person. Shirt – check. Jeans – check. Pockets empty, so no wallet, hotel keycard, or crap MP3 player. Phone – sitting on my bedside table charging in the hotel room. Keys – next to phone. Boots, jacket, and pants – by the door. Watch – not on my wrist. By method of deduction, I can assume my watch is in one of the pockets of my jacket. Eh, nope. Nope. “Ah-ha! Oh, Mystic Timekeeper, I beseech Thee, what is the time?” Huh, just about nine in the morning. Still early enough to be considered a normal time to get out of bed. Plenty of time if I wanted to catch breakfast at the hotel. Mmm, breakfast. Let’s see, it’s been about uh, twenty hours since lunch yesterday? Yep, food is what I need. I mean besides medical attention to see if I’m concussed, but after that food. Oh please, Mr Fridge, don’t be filled with unrefrigerated and spoiled things. Please oh please don’t be… empty. Right, because if the power goes out, why wouldn’t you empty the fridge? Duh. *Crunch, crunch, crunch, creak, creak.* Ah, that must be my savior coming home from the war. Which makes that the front door, which makes sense because that’s where the porch is. *Thunk, thunk, clunk.* Alright, so not returning from the war, returning from chopping wood. Might as well let them know I’m up and mostly together. *Clunk, thunk, clonk.* “Hi, I’m Dave, and I just wanted to thank...” That’s a wall of fur. Interesting place to hang an animal skin but hey, I bet it keeps the heat in really well. Okay, move the fur curtains and try again. It really doesn’t want to move. That’s not a curtain. What the hell? Oh fuck, a bear. “Oh fuck, a bear.” *”Eurh.”* Well it definitely heard you that time. And it’s staring at me. And I’m staring at it. Let me just slowly, uh huh, there we go and turn the deadbolt. Yeah, I just poked a bear. That thing they tell you not to do. There is nothing preventing it from ripping through the wall and eating me. *“Uh, hello! Sorry for scaring you but could you let me in?”* What. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating or that you have a pet bear or something because I am seconds away from a panic attack.” So you’re definitely concussed but that’s no reason not to be polite to the nice lady. *“It’s maybe a tiny bit more complicated than that, but could you let me in anyways? I don’t actually have my keys on me at the moment.”* Reasonable request. Polite tone. Yeah, okay, I’m crazy. I’m just understandably bear-crazy after the whole ‘knocked unconscious while fleeing a grizzly’ incident. Alright, breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Relax, it’s just a figment of your internally hemorrhaging brain, just unlock the door and let her in. Fuuuck Ireallydon’twanttodothis butherewegoanyways becauseit’sonlyahallucination that’lldisappearwhenIopenthisdoorand HELLO MOUNTAIN OF FUR, STILL HERE I SEE. *“Hi, I’m Susan. Are you hungry?”* The mountain is talking. The bear is talking to me. The bear has a concerned look, so that’s a good sign that this is really just a very tall lady surrounded by blindingly bright snow and she was either naked before or I am now hallucinating less and can see a shirt. “F-food sounds good but I think I need to go to the hospital, you still look like a walking bear.” Yes, logical, let the nearest person know your head injury is very serious. Smart. Still riding out the fight-or-flight rush from opening the door but thinking straight. *“Well, we can talk about that over breakfast.”* A bear smile is surprisingly pleasant-looking, but DAMN those are some big teeth. I can’t tell if I’m shaking in fear or from adrenaline, but I really need food. I can panic later. “Breakfast it is then, Miss Susan Bear.”