The Bear
Not the William Faulkner classic but another exciting day in the life of our hapless hero.
So it's Friday morning and that means a run day. It takes a couple of weeks for acclimaing to altitude but it eventually happens. I go out early. Temps around 41 and feels a little chilly for the first mile but great after that. Toward the end I'm headed downhill and see an angus steer of about 500# standing out in the middle of the road. I figure on sharing this with the camp host so someone can roundup their livestock. I keep the pace and get within about 30 yards of bos taurus but suddenly realize my black bovine is no bovine at all but Seniora Oso. Didn't really know if I should turn and run like heck the other way, grab up big rocks from the roadside for a futile defense or just keep the pace and see what happens. Of course in the interest of adventure we go with option #3. This was the biggest black bear I've seen. Black shiney beautiful animal with a bright tan nose. But we're within several yards of each other by now and I'm starting to feel that queasy sensation we all have when realizing we're no longer at the top of the foodchain. I felt this years ago while snokling a reef and spotted a shark the size of a piano patiently watching my every move. It's a deeply humbling perspective.
As I trot along, drawing closer with each step, I'm thinking if this thing turns and dashes my way I can jet for all I'm worth and hope to outlast her. An ambitious plan considering she has me outgunned by at least two good legs and a few hundred pounds of muscle. What the heck, right? I mean ending it all battling a ferocious beast in the San Juan mountains seems like a noble and manly way to go. It'd play well with family legend a couple generations on. My sons are so pragmatic they'd wonder if the bear really thought I was yummy or just got fed up with my abrasive nature and did the world a favor out of kindness to her fellow creatures. We can entertain some curious thoughts during exciting moments.
Anyway, from a distance of a few steps me and the bear gazed into each other's eyes for what seemed like a long moment. Then she shook her head as if to make comment on this crazy ole gringo and his reckless temerity. But as tensions built toward some disaster, she seemed to draw from a long lifetime of mountain wisdom and compassionate tolerance for sadly foolish creatures - and then she smiled. Just a slight curling of her lips at the corners and a sudden brightness in her eyes... a small dip of her head. Anthropomorphic fantasy racing through my feeble brain or maybe she really had a case of morning indigestion and belched? For me, she smiled and then gracefully ambled toward the banks of the Gunnison river. We both watched over our shoulders as the distance between us grew. And then I didn't look back again. But I sure needed to pee all of a sudden. Comes with old age I guess.
As natural a sight as I've ever witnessed.
Got back and saddled up the evil twins (that's the 1190) for a little exploring.
Decided to turn around here and come back later to play with the 530.
And then a quick lunch while overlooking lake San Cristobal.
As days go... a feller could do worse, eh?
Until next time...