It's true, Nola does cuss a bit. Normally, when quoting her I clean it up, but take this morning, for instance: We were sitting over our first cup of coffee, chatting about the rain slacking off, the omelettes I'd promised to make, going hiking later on, the noises we'd heard in the night, when Nola exclaimed, "Goddamn it! It's back!"
She jumped to her feet and snatched up the spare tarp poles. I looked around frantically. "What? Where?"
"The bear," she said walking toward the road. She began shouting and banging the poles together. I couldn't find anything to make noise with, and settled for shouting "Bad bear! Bad!" at the bushes. I hope it got the point. We did another circuit of camp in the car, but it was out of sight.
Nola had heard a loud thump when she was in the outhouse across the road, and thinks it was the bear trying to sneak up, or perhaps circle around without exposing itself. It's of an age to be very curious about everything, especially anything that might result in food. But it's still too willing to get close, and we were tired of worrying about it, especially after dark. So we packed up, left a note for the parkie, and moved on up to Manning Park. I'll miss that camp—it was secluded and quiet, and the river unexpectedly charming. It's not worth taking on the training of a young persistant bear, though.
We've a nice set-up here, on the bank of the Similkameen. Fair number of other people around. It's much cooler & dryer, with an almost constant breeze sucking the moisture out of all the stuff that got damp and clammy in yesterday's rain.
So we're just going to admire the view and chill out for the rest of the evening.
One Comment
Did I mention that I’ve never before seen a bear right in an official park campground?
The outhouse was just across the roadlet and 15 feet down from our campsite: very close, in other words. Because the nearest campers were another hundred yards along, I’d taken to leaving the outhouse door, which swung outward, wide open so I could enjoy the view.
The noise was a kind of thump. The kind of thump I’ve heard on other occasions when some large animal, let’s say a bear, brushes a careless shoulder against some large piece of wood and knocks it over against another bit of wood or stone. You just know that the chipmunks can’t be responsible for that noise.
I vacated the premises with some speed, taking a careful look around. Didn’t see a thing till I’d gotten back to my coffee and settled in to watch the far side of the road, Just In Case something was there– which of course it was. Afterwards I surveyed the location more carefully, and realized that there was a thicket about 20 feet from the outhouse that was in my blind spot as I exited. I suppose that’s where the bear was.
I’m still contemplating what I might have said if the bear had put its head round the door while I was sitting there.