It was the summer of 2001. We were living in Calgary, Alberta, and a friend who enjoys hiking was visiting us for a few days. She and my wife decided to go hiking around the Kananaskis mountains to the west.

After a long day of tromping through the bush, they decided to do one more trail. It was a muddy trail, and not all that well traveled, but they persisted and seemed to be enjoying themselves. My wife was startled when her friend called out “BEAR!”, and was even more startled to focus on a grizzly bear about six feet in front of her.

When my wife tells this story, she does a fantastic job of conveying the sense of panic that came over them both. All of the “training” in the world wouldn’t have done an ounce of good; they did what came instinctively, which was to run like hell.

At one point, my wife tripped and fell in the mud. The bear paused as she got up, before continuing to follow her out of the bush.

Of course, the outcome of this story is a happy one. My wife and her friend made it back to the car, and the bear waved from the edge of the bush as they drove off to warn the local ranger.

I teased my wife incessantly about this - peppering her with brochures that explain the proper protocol for bear encounters. She bought bear bells (even though she has yet to set foot on a mountain again), and we discussed how she would talk soothingly to the next bear she encountered, walking backwards with her eyes looking down.

The humor in this story, you ask? About a month after this incident, we were driving the Icefields Parkway, and I had to pee. I mean, I HAD to pee. I finally gave in and pulled off along the side of the road, where I could commune with nature for a minute. I walked down the sloped shoulder and into the woods a bit (so other cars passing us wouldn’t have to observe me mid-pee), and went about my business.

As I did, I happen to look up to notice a black bear approaching me. He was a good 50 feet away, but it didn’t matter; my dick was hanging out of my jeans, and I still had a good bit of pee to go. And this was not the kind of pee that was going to be interrupted.

As luck would have it, the bear wasn’t in a full gallop to meet me, and I mustered every ounce of energy to get the pee out as soon as possible. I learned the art of zipping and running at the same time, and made it back to the car with about twenty feet between the bear and I.

Needless to say, I don’t bring up the bear story with my wife anymore.

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Posted in Blog
Written on Fri, 04 May 2007 at 2:57 pm
Tags: bears, Calgary, Canada, hiking, pee
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