My husband and I spent a week of our summer vacation in Yellowstone National Park. I had been to Yellowstone twice. Both times, I was passing through on the way to somewhere else, giving me just enough time to see Old Faithful, a few elk, and nothing else.
Dan, on the other hand, had spent many summers around the Jackson and Yellowstone area, and he took on the role of personal tour guide, treating our vacation much like our trip to Disney World (translation: He woke me up at 6:00 every morning in order to arrive at the park when the gates opened, and we stayed every evening until the gates closed).
Prior to our trip, Dan suggested we buy a can of bear spray since our plan was to do some hiking and mountain biking. I think Dan secretly hoped we would encounter a bear on an isolated wilderness trail.
Joe's Sports and Outdoors was sold out of the stuff.
“Boy, the bears must really be out this season,” the clerk behind the weapons counter said. I giggled nervously, glancing over at Dan. I knew he was thinking, “Cool. Bears!”
Cabella’s had a few 45-dollar canisters left, but we were told the same thing, that there had been a rush on the bear spray inventory that season. I immediately discovered that the majority of the bear mauling incidents as retold in the bear spray safety pamphlet had occurred in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park.
I braced myself for my summer venture into Bear Country.
Upon check-in at Togwotee Mountain Lodge, Dan and I were instructed to store all food in our room rather than in our car because “You are in Bear Country after all.” We also received a Bear Fact Sheet at the front desk that delineated what to do if we did indeed meet a bear.
“Three reasons a bear may charge,” the fact sheet read, “1. The bear is startled. 2. The bear is defending his/her territory,” and my personal favorite “3. The bear is hungry and wants to eat you.”
“Are you sure Yellowstone is a safe place to visit?” I asked Dan. “I mean, maybe we should just let nature be nature and not invade its living space.”
“That’s why we got the bear spray,” was Dan’s response. “It can shoot thirty feet!”
Everywhere I went in Yellowstone, I was politely reminded that I had infiltrated bear country. Bear warnings were posted at hiking trail pit toilets so that outdoors enthusiasts could read about the imminent threat of bear encounters while attending to their needs. Picture books in the resort stores taught children about the various wild bear scat found in Yellowstone. And just in case I had managed to forget that I could get attacked by a bear at any moment, all of the ornaments and magnets in the gift shops announced “Welcome to Bear Country” and “Be Bear Aware!”
So did I meet a bear during my summer outdoor adventure? Well . . .
Dan and I were stopped in one of the many traffic jams that occurs on the Yellowstone roads during the summer season. I had my camera in hand just in case a bison or elk walked by the car. All of a sudden, people were hanging out of vehicle windows, cameras clicking away.
“Becky, a bear!” Dan exclaimed.
There it was, beautiful black fur shining in the sun, sauntering past our driver’s side window.
“Take the picture!” Dan hissed.
“When?” I squeaked, frozen in my seat. “Should I do it now?”
“What now? Just take it!”
I didn’t take the picture, much to my husband’s chagrin. I didn’t even move the camera near my eye. But I did buy an ornament later that day that read, “You are in Bear Country.” I figured that was close enough.
