A brief and wondrous encounter with a black bear.

"The mountains have always been here, and in them, the bears."
- Rick Bass (in The Lost Grizzlies, page 97)

A couple weeks ago, Biscuit dog, (my friend) Mila and I stayed at a cabin in Smith Mountain Lake State Park, in Huddleston, VA. I had never been there before, but heard it's a beautiful place. It was!

I took Biscuit as my trail running buddy. Every morning we headed out the door around 7 and spent the next couple hours dodging roots and branches alike, wiping dewy spiderwebs off of my face and arms, wading into the cool clear waters to enjoy the vista, and transporting ticks from the woods onto the cabin's porch where I would pick dozens of them off of our bodies. After breakfast and a quick shower for me, we either go back out for several more hours of hiking and swimming, or we chill for a few hours and pack a picnic lunch for later. Mila would join us on this latter excursions. We ran or hiked all the different trails in the park by the time we left.

On Thursday, Biscuit and I set out to do our long run. I'm in the midst of the marathon training season. Having signed up for an Oct 16 marathon, I needed to run a 8 - 9 miler as my long run. With Biscuit in the back seat, I drove the car and parked it at the Visitor Center. The plan was to run the 1.75 miles Walton Creek trail, cross the playground/picnic area at the turn around point, and pick up the Striper Cove trail loop for 6 miles, then take Walton Creek back to the Visitor Center, totaling about 9.5 miles. 

The park trails were very well maintained, but Walton's Creek trail had more than its fair share of dropped Virginia pine cones threatening to roll my ankles. A canoe launch area gave Biscuit a chance to wade in and play fetch for a few minutes. We finally made it to the picnic area. We crossed the playground and saw the Striper Cove trail head. On a whim, I decided to cross back to the opposite side to hike the short .80 mi loop of the rocky Osprey Point trail, not wanting to miss the promised view.

We completed the loop and walked back to the playground. As Biscuit and I were cresting a hill to reach playground, a juvenile black Bear walked toward us, or rather, toward a trash can. 

 

"Whoa!" I shouted and stopped on our track. The Bear stopped, too, and looked up. There were about fifty feet between us and I thought about how far away 1.75 to my car was. Biscuit was thankfully right beside me, panting softly from his swimming earlier at the canoe launch, the hill hid him from the Bear and prevented him from seeing the Bear. 

Time stood still as the Bear and I stared at each other. My mind raced with every information I'd read about what to do when encountering a bear. Problem was those very information were all jumbled up and I couldn't remember if I was supposed to play dead now or when I was under attack; I was supposed to look bigger and threatening or was that for grizzlies encounter?

I knew for sure I was not to turn around and run because that would make me look a prey vs. the currently clueless and defenseless runner. I was also aware that Bears could be curious of pets and I had one very friendly Golden Retriever attached to my hip at that very moment. 

As clarity crept back into my mind, I quickly scanned the area for defense: the metal trash can might have been the best thing to hurl at the Bear and use the can's lid as an armor a la Captain America. But it was closer to the Bear than to me. Rats! 

Or, I'd take off Biscuit's leash with his prong collars attached and wield it ninja-style, aim it well on the Bear's head. Yeah, that's it! Bring it, Bear. No, go away Bear. Go away!

Thankfully, the Bear decided I was no match for him. He turned around and run back into the woods. I think I finally inhaled my breath. I looked down at Biscuit, who was still panting softly and looked up at me with his smiling googly eyes, "Why are we stopping?"

I tugged at his leash, "Heel, boy. We're not going on THAT trail." 

Instead, we raced down Walton Creek trail back to the Visitor Center.  Adrenaline coursed through my veins, I was fleet and nimble like the dozens of deer we had met that week, I didn't even notice any Virginia pine cones on the ground. 

The Park Ranger took my bear sighting report and said this was the first report in the State Park in his 4-year tenure. I said, "Well, it's definitely thrilling and exciting, but I don't think I want to repeat it."  We agreed on that. 

Biscuit and I then picked up a different trail system from the Visitor Center, away from the playground, to get our 9 miles in. I made sure I talked loudly to Biscuit about the weather, what's for breakfast, how I realized being human and having opposable thumbs didn't mean squat that morning, and I sang loudly whatever songs came to mind. Better to look like a crazy runner than accidentally sneak up on a black bear again. Biscuit just panted, happy being outside doing the thing we both love: running.