The Slim Jim Bear

       We were in the Adirondacks,  and it was the third and last full day of our hike. My first husband and I were on our honeymoon – he had plotted, I think it was, a forty mile trail before we arrived – Lake Colden, Mount Marcy, various waterfalls, the pond that is the source of the Hudson River, were some of the sites we saw on our trek. But we did not go the entire 40 miles, cutting the loop a little bit short – probably because of my slowness and whining, but since I'm telling the story, I get to leave that part out.

       On our last night in the mountains, we stopped at a camping spot that was seven miles by trail from the car – we would be hiking those seven miles in the morning, and then there would be the drive back to the real world. When we got to the camping spot, there was a note tacked to a lean-to structure, in essence, the note said that a bear had eaten all the campers' food – be on guard. And from the date on the note, it meant a bear had been there two days earlier!

        We had been hearing stories about bears all along our hike from other backpackers. But we had seen nothing in terms of wildlife except for a couple of chipmunks who were clearly tame enough to put on a cute act for hikers in exchange for food. So when we saw the note, I glibly stated that the bear who ate all the food on Tuesday was not likely to be hungry again by Thursday – so our stash was probably safe enough.

        By the time the tent was set up, a man who had hiked the seven miles in that day asked if he could join us. I will call him Tom, so as to have a name for him – I have forgotten his real name. He was going to be in the Adirondacks seven days and had enough food for that whole time. We all ate supper together and chatted a bit – especially repeating all the bear rumors we had been hearing.

       And when it got late, the hubs and Tom put all the food into our nylon duffel bag. They strung the bag up between two trees so that it was high off the ground and too far away from either tree for a bear to climb and take a swing at.

       We retired to our respective tents. Sleep for me was impossible – it was cold and my feet were freezing. I kept seeing shadows on the tent and was convinced they belonged to the bear. Should we get up and do something about the bear or should I stay quiet and hope it just goes away – that is, if there really was a bear out there at all?

        Suddenly there was a commotion outside, and Tom was hollering for us to come help! When we got outside, the commotion had subsided and Tom explained that he had heard a noise and when he looked out of his tent, he saw a raccoon checking out all the gear. Tom startled the raccoon which then, in its fright, ran into Tom's backpack and could not get back out again, so the backpack with the raccoon inside started hopping around! That was the noise we could hear – the backpack hopping and the frantic raccoon trying to get out. Finally it got free of the backpack and took off.

        Well maybe that had been enough noise to keep the bear away. We could hope, and we retreated to our tents once again to try to sleep. The cold toes, shadows on the tent, and increasingly disturbing noises outside, however, continued to keep me awake.

        As the sky lightened up toward dawn, I was relieved to think that soon we could hike out and go home and not have to worry about the bear another minute.

        That's when Tom started screaming for help once again. The hubs bolted out of the tent, and when I lifted the flap to take a look at the campsite, I saw the back end of a bear disappearing through the trees!

        He had gotten to the food – he took a swipe at the bottom of the bag and sliced it open. The contents fell to the ground, and the bear had apparently spent the whole evening, sometime after the raccoon, eating almost everything!

        There were Slim Jims that were completely gone! The bear ate them with the plastic wrap and everything? There was a box of dry pancake mix. The box was not eaten, but it was empty. “You're going to have a belly ache!” I shouted in the direction of the back end of the bear after taking a survey of the damages.

        Tom had six days worth of food in that bag! All that was left of the stash were some raw eggs that had not only survived the fall from the bag but had escaped the eyes of the bear. The rest of Tom's food was gone. Some of our supplies were uneaten, I can't remember now what – but we gave it all to Tom who said he was going to hike in for another day and then come back out again, cutting his trip short by five days.

        We hiked the seven miles out – to the car. It was a pleasant walk for the last day of our honeymoon; and we were not too hungry – especially after we spied the car and knew for sure we would not parish on the trail; and all was worth it to have our very own bear story.

        You might be wondering how the bear got to the bag if it had been so securely strung up out of reach? Well, it turns out there was a dead tree with just a slim bit of trunk still standing perhaps three feet – it was invisible to us when hanging the bag because it was not something we had considered the bear climbing – but apparently the wispy stalk of wood was enough to hold the weight of the bear, and it was enough of a boost to get the bear within leg-swing range of the food.

        Which was all it needed.

        We kept the bag with the bear claw scratch through the nylon for many years.

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