The Bear Downstairs

In hindsight, perhaps backpacking alone in the wilderness for nearly 40 miles wasn’t my brightest idea.

But the first 28 miles of trekking through the mountains of north Georgia along the Appalachian Trail was serene, albeit strenuous lugging around an overloaded pack weighed down by MREs (military style meals ready to eat) and water bottles.

That was, of course, until my not-so-serene encounter (I prefer the word “ordeal”) with an uninvited guest – a Georgia black bear.

Weary from the day’s 12-mile hike, I took refuge in one of the trail’s shelters for the night. The Stover Creek Shelter, like many along the Appalachian Trail, is a three-sided wooden structure with an area to sprawl out on a floor and a small loft for an additional sleeping area.

But before I could hunker down for the evening and enjoy a savory MRE, I heard a rustling coming from behind the shelter. At first I dismissed it, but it seemed to be getting louder.

I went to check it out and noticed that about 30-40 yards off there was a bear stumbling along the mountainside. It wasn’t fully grown, but it was certainly larger than me.
Thinking it was best not to wait around for what was going to happen next, I quickly threw on my backpack and scurried up the ladder into the loft.

I’m not sure what I was expecting at this point, but I didn’t expect for the bear to mosey into the shelter, which he (I guess) proceeded to do.

Actually, the bear seemed to take a liking to the shelter.

It’s where he spent most of the next 12 hours, at one point sitting at a wooden picnic table below while I sad huddled in a loft above.

Occasionally he would glance up at me, then go back to snooping around the shelter.
Throughout the night I could hear him shuffling about in the dark.

During one spell when he seemed to be farther away, I managed to sneak down from the loft to hang my food from a nearby “bear cable,” a way to keep animals from snacking on your food during the night.

When I did, I noticed another bag of food hanging there.

It occurred to me that hours earlier, at another shelter, I met a father and daughter out on their first backpacking excursion.

They made the mistake of over packing as well. To lighten their loads, they said they left a large bag of peanut butter and honey at Stover Creek Shelter dangling from the bear cable.

I suspect that’s what kept the bear hanging around all night.

He was there the next morning, too. That’s when I woke up – uneaten – peered over the rim of the loft and saw a furry black head and alert eyes and a lot of teeth, looking up at me.

About 7 a.m. the bear got up and ambled off. I waited until I didn’t hear him anymore, grabbed my gear and headed south in a brisk manner.

I never saw the bear again.

Don’t want to, either.