Bears Are Bigger in the North Cascades

There’s no doubt that the North Cascades National Park is one of the prettiest places on earth.  Lucky us, that our friends from France purchased some land near there a few years ago, built a house, and invited us and other jolly friends for happy times.  We look like an advertisement for merlot, sitting around a table with gourmet food, laughing, talking about politics, religion, marriage, children, jokes, and memories. 

One of their friends from France was determined to see some wildlife, and in the Cascades, it is not that hard to spot something.  They took us for a pretty walk alongside the Stetattle Creek, north of Lake Diablo. 

The French friend Etienne, and JP, the host, went up a hillside trail.  Etienne went ahead to spot a deer or elk or even a marmot if they got high enough.  Maybe a mountain goat?  Etienne was quiet and determined.  After climbing higher, he saw some bushes moving. He paused.  Deer?  A fawn?  Two cinnamon-colored, round ears rose from the bush, then two eyes, then a huge muzzle.  Etienne turned and ran back down the trail and hid behind JP.

Right behind him was the bear.  JP knew that running from a bear is useless, they can outdistance any human athlete.  But JP’s got a set of lungs on him from years of hiking in the Alps and rooting at hockey games.  He bellowed at the running bear, which made a right turn off the trail and fled down the mountain, a terrifying and altogether beautiful sight of liquid velvet muscle and fur.

Etienne confessed he had a lot to tell him friends back in France, and JP hoped he would get the story right of who hid, and who scared off the bear.

The next day everyone went out hiking again, this time taking more friends and a miniature Austrailian Shepherd named Ayla.

There were some fast hikers and some slow, and the two groups became further apart.  This drove Ayla crazy, and she ran back in forth between the two groups trying to herd them together.

JP, being the charming host, stayed behind and led the slower hikers, even though he could outdistance us all with his high altitude lungs. 

Suddenly Ayla came flying back down the trail and kept going, terrified.  Up ahead, we heard someone shouting, “Bear!  Bear!”

Chasing Ayla was a huge black form.  This time JP did not bellow, he just stood there.  The massive black animal crashed into him, stood over him, and then started licking him.  We just stood there gaping as JP yelled, “Get offa me!”

Running down the trail were strangers, continuing to shout warnings about the bear.  Etienne grabbed the monster by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off of JP.

“Bad dog, Bear,” scolded the strangers, taking hold of the Great Dane’s collar from Etienne.  Bear’s tongue lolled in his smiling face.  “So sorry,” they apologized.

JP rose from his near death experience, his eyes like fried eggs.

“I hope you get this story right,” Etienne told him.  “Un chien. Seul un chien.”

“It wasn’t only a dog,” protested JP. “You must confess it was a very BIG dog.”