Do more people on trail equal fewer bears? Her husband had that math equation wrong
Each individual brings areas if expertise to a relationship. For example, my husband is far superior to me in any task that involves a higher level of math.
This isn’t because I’m dumb. It’s because I was taught high school algebra by a football coach who seemed to be excessively angry that he was forced to leave the gym and enter a classroom. The whole experience scarred me to such an extent that I break out in a sweat whenever I see a math word problem with letters used as place holders for numbers.
What all this means is that when my husband starts talking in math terms, I assume he’s correct. This is why on a sunny fall day in Lake Tahoe when my spouse used the phrase “bear math,” I didn’t argue with his equation that more people on a hiking trail equals less bear activity because bears don’t want to be around a bunch of annoying humans.
His calculations did seem to make sense and calmed what some (my husband) would call my irrational fears about hiking during the time of year when the black bears of the Sierra Nevada mountain range are incredibly active because they’re getting ready to hibernate.
So, armed with this solid “bear math” we set off on a well-traveled and populated hiking trail secure in the knowledge that any self-respecting bear would want to be miles away from all the human hullabaloo.
The hike was amazing. We had a panoramic view of Lake Tahoe, and the fall colors of the quaking aspen and birch trees cast a golden hue to the forest. With each step I took I became less wary of encountering a bear and allowed myself to relax and enjoy the scenery.
Everything was wonderful, idyllic even, and then suddenly it wasn’t because we had encroached on an area thick with bears. How did I know this? Did I possess innate bear radar? Did the bears have a greeting committee? Was there signage that said, “Yoo-hoo you’re encircled by bears”?
The correct answer is none of the above. Our messenger and savior was none other than a Forest Service park ranger who appeared to materialize out of nowhere and was so exquisitely backlit by the sun it gave her an almost angelic quality. She very politely and firmly told us to turn around and vacate the area because we were in the midst of where bears were “eating.”
The fact that at this point I didn’t pass out and/or wet my pants might just make my top 10 list of proudest moments. Change that: It’s definitely in the top five. As we turned around and left, making sure not to run, I heard one hiker questioning the ranger about why he “couldn’t go see the bears.”
WTH? Did this guy confuse the forest with a zoo? At this point I hoped that the rangers get some sort of hazard pay for having to deal with idiots.
As we made it back to the trail head I told my husband he had spectacularly flunked “bear math” and then got a little woozy thinking about what would have happened if the forest ranger hadn’t been there. But the event also changed me.
The last night of our vacation, we saw another bear. It was standing majestically by a thicket of bushes, and my immediate reaction wasn’t to panic. Granted we were in our car but instead of immediately flooring it and getting hysterical, I looked at my husband and calmly said, “That’s a good-looking bear.
And then I floored it.
Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.
