After an uneventful night at Quickmunk, I woke and began planning my first full day in Shenendoah. After cross-referencing three different travel guides and maps, I decided on doing a waterfall hike, listed as a "don't-miss" in all my sources. My hopes fell, however, as I pulled into the parking lot. It was packed, and a pair of whiny kids sat at the trailhead yelling to each car that pulled in, "Turn aroooound! Dooooon't go! it's toooo haaaaaaaaaard." Their father stood by, all but encouraging his childrens' public service announcements. He, too, warned an older couple approaching the trailhead of the perils they were about to encounter. He had a thick accent; I can't place it, but if I had to guess I'd say Transylvania. He had this vampire-chuckle going on too (like Count Chocula): "Dent go dar, ah. ah. ah. On scale of ten I vuld rate it meybey eight, ah. ah. ah." What made it all the more funny was the fact he was wearing a shirt that read 'SHENENDOAH: The Mountains Are Calling, I Must Hike'. I ignored them, but sat in my car to gather my things and watched as people emerged from the trailhead in the woods sweaty and complaining. I would have been concerned, but from the looks of it, most of these people probably get sweaty and complain crossing a grocery store parking lot. In fact, it looked a lot like a Disneyland on a summer weekend to me. Ugh.
All this led to my decision to unpack some stuff from my backpack to make it lighter, taking out things I wouldn't need on a hike in Disneyland: stuff like my cannister of trusty ol' bear spray.
I passed through the gauntlet of loud, lazy kids and found myself on a beautiful little path following a creek down the hillside. Ok, so it was a little steep, but it definitely didn't warrant the warnings. It took about ten minutes to get to the waterfall, and there were dozens of families and hikers playing in the water, taking pictures, and having lunch. It was nice, but not worth lingering around by myself. I had budgeted way more time for this hike, so instead of turning around, I followed a fire road at the base of the waterfall to another, smaller trailhead called Rose Creek Falls.
It was a gorgeous day, and Shenendoah was blissfully green. The trail followed alongside a bubbling little creek, with little waterfalls and pools along the way. I hadn't seen anyone on the trail for a good ten minutes when I ran into a couple of hikers coming my direction. We passed, smiling, and said hi and something about the weather. I turned to keep going, but as an afterthought, the woman turned and said "oh, by the way, we saw a momma bear and her cubs up there!" Oh crap. I asked them if I should turn around, but they waved it off, saying it was way far, and they were probably gone by now. They weren't concerned, so I pressed on, although I was enjoying the scenery a tiny bit less now. When I ran into two more hikers a bit later, they hadn't seen the bears, but said they had been talking so loud it probably got scared away. "Just make a lot of noise" they suggested. I kind of pointed out I didn't really have anyone to talk to...(um, duh?!), and they suggested in that case, I should hike with a bell. Thaaaanks. I'll just go pick one up at the....oh yeah, that's right. We're in the middle of the forest, I have no way of obtaining a bell unless I find one miraculously on the trail, which would probably indicated the previous owner was eaten by a bear anyway. I digress.
The problem was averted when I remembered my car keys have an emergency whistle on them. (A stocking-stuffer xmas present from years ago, when, at the time, I thought "Random. Thanks Mom. I'll stick this in a drawer and never use it." A word of advice to all 13 year olds who get emergency whistles instead of lipgloss in your stockings: keep it. You very well might need it in 11 years or so.) I took to alternately jingling my keys like a zookeeper, and lightly blowing on the whistle to make some noise. I passed more families, saw beautiful waterfalls, plants, and deer taking sips from the creek. It was so glorious. On a whim, I decided I needed to take a swim in one of the deep pools. I hiked off the trail down to the beach, and watched the trail. I hadn't seen anyone pass in 20 minutes or so, so I did a quick undie-dip. It was so perfectly refreshing. I wanted to stay, but the bear thing was still sort of on the back of my mind and I didn't really feel like getting caught in my undies by passerby. I threw on my shorts, took a quick picture to capture the moment, and hiked back up to the trail.
I was in this blissful solo-hiking-undie-dipping-nature-loving state of mind hiking back up the trail, shaking my keys occasionally in an absent-minded sort of way. I passed a couple with two golden retrievers, and lazily thinking the dogs would definitely have made enough noise to scare stuff away, I stopped my jingling for a bit and continued on.
You know when something happens and you have a great big burst of adrenaline and then later you really can't recall what happened exactly? I can't quite recall whether I actually ran into bear cub or whether it ran into me or out in front of me, but I suddenly found myself nose-to-nose with a bear cub. My thought process was something like this:
1. BEAR!
2. It's a baaaybeeeee how cuuuuuute!!
3. WHERE THE F IS IT'S MOMMY?
4. Oh, my god, it's so cuuuuuuuuute up close! Look at his widdle nose...
[At this point, the baby recovers from its shock and scales the nearest tree, peering down at me fearfully]
5. MOTHER BEARS ARE EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE ESPECIALLY IF THEY FEEL YOU HAVE FRIGHTENED THEIR BABIES UP TREES.
6. Tina, you idiot, idiot idiot. YOU TOOK YOUR BEAR SPRAY OUT OF YOUR PACK BEFORE THIS HIKE.
7. I HAVE A GOOD CHANCE OF DYING VERY SOON.
I backed away slowly, beginning to jingle my keys and lowly blowing on my whistle (Will a louder noise alert the mom that I'm here if she hasn't noticed yet? or scare her away?) I'm not sure what possessed me to do what I did next, but as I backed away, I took out my camera and filmed myself. A last record if I die, perhaps? If I survive, proof I saw a bear? I think I just really needed to talk it out, and needed something to talk to.
The clip now makes me laugh really hard. I call it my "Bear Ditch Project." (yeah, rhymes with Blair witch...in case you didn't catch it...) The subtitle is "What My Face Looks Like When I'm Scared Shitless" Because really, you don't ever make that face in the mirror.
I insist that I'm filming the bear looking at me, but all you can see is green blur of trees because my hands are shaking so hard. Also, I say there are two bear cubs in the clip. Either I was seeing double, or my memory is already failing me. hmmm....
(Sorry it's sideways, I've tried multiple times and failed to turn it the right way. Why didn't i think to film the right way at the time?! damn.)
I ended up waiting a good ways down the trail until somebody else came along, and I explained, calmly, I had just run into a bear. As my luck would have it, this hiker did not speak English. I had to mime out "bear" (claw hands, teeth bared), and he was still pretty unimpressed. I ended up following the hiker back up, and there were no signs of the bear. I'm sure he thought I was insane.
