“We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.”
Linda and I were married in the fall of our senior year in college. Following graduation, we embarked on a job searching, camping adventure from the furthest northwestern tip of Washington and traveled the coast highway to Los Angeles. We piled all our camping equipment into the back of our 1967 Volkswagon bug and headed off to La Push to begin our southward adventure. We were broke, with barely enough money for gas but we had each other and that was enough. Our plan was to stop at resorts along the way and apply for jobs at each stop, hoping that through some miracle someone would actually hire us. Linda was a teacher or at least hoping to become one and I with my degree in hotel and restaurant administration was looking for a job, any job, in the hospitality industry.
Each day, we would drive along the coast, stopping to picnic on a beach or hike through the rainforest. When we came to a resort area we would stop and introduce ourselves and fill out job applications and occasionally get an interview. While campfire smoke infused clothes may not have been the most suitable interview attire, it was what we had and most interviewers pretended not to notice. At night we would find a campground, pitch our tent, build a fire and relax in our tent. Linda wanted to learn to play the guitar and so we set out with a cheap guitar and a harmonica and we would hang out in the tent, attempting to play music. But like most beginning musicians we sucked. We weren’t just clumsy and bad; we were genuinely awful. But none-the-less we persisted in the misbegotten belief that we would miraculously get better. We didn’t.
One night on the Oregon coast by Humbug Mountain State Park, we arrived at the campground after dark, set up camp, ate dinner and crawled into our tent to practice our musical skills. The night was soft and warm so we left our cardboard boxes of food and cooking gear on the camp table and retired to our cozy tent. With the glow of a lantern, we began singing out of key and strumming chords that were discordant at best.
“What’s that?”, asked Linda in a nervous voice. “What’s what?”, I said, now slightly more attentive to the surroundings. “That snuffling sound”, said Linda. “Don’t you hear it?” “Shit!”, I exclaimed and just then pots and pans came crashing to the ground. Through the tent, we saw the giant rounded shadow of the bear as it bumped into the side of the tent. “Let’s get out of here”, Linda says. “Right”, I say. “Let’s go.” “Wait”, said Linda. We could hear the bear right behind the tent, scarfing down whatever it had just stolen off the table. I wondered how hungry it was. It sounded quite hungry. “Go get the car”, said Linda. “And bring it around to the front of the tent and then I can just jump in.” “Say what?”, I said in amazement. “You want me to go out, confront the bear and gallantly drive your carriage up to the tent so your highness can escape? Is that your plan?” “Exactly”, said Linda. “Now hurry before he finishes eating whatever it is he has and starts drooling over fresh maiden.” “Seriously? So how is your brave knight supposed to defend himself?, I queried. “Here. Take my guitar.” “What, you want me to sing him a love song? Is that your plan? You, know, music to soothe the savage beast. Blah…blah…blah?” “Shut up. Take the guitar and smash it over his head if you have to. Hurry. I think he is through devouring whatever it was he was eating. Run!!!”
Feeling totally ridiculous, I grabbed the car keys in my left hand, grabbed the guitar in my right hand and raised it over my shoulder, ready to strike the monster if it came after me. I unzipped the tent, dashed toward the VW, started the car and pulled in front of the tent so that my bride could dash to safety. We heard the bear snort, slammed the doors and gunned it out of the campsite. It was about 1am and being the good citizens we were, we drove completely around the campground waking people up and warning them about the bear. It turned out that not everyone was asleep at 1am and there was one couple in particular that didn’t fully appreciate our intrusion. They seemed to feel our good deed interrupted them at an inopportune moment yet we were quite proud that we may have just saved their lives, even if their initial response wasn’t very gracious.
We slept in the car, the rest of the night. Volkswagon bugs aren’t necessarily the most comfortable sleeping accommodations and we were a bit grumpy in the morning. After we packed up all of our gear, minus the rest of the week’s food supply, we stopped at the ranger’s office to report the bear attack. Once the ranger stopped laughing, he gently informed us that there were no bears in the area but that the raccoons were notorious for getting into camper’s ice chests which is why there were signs in every campsite requiring all food to be stowed away and not left on tables.
Husbandry 