When I asked Russ if he had any fears for me on this trip, he answered with one word: bears. I swallowed my snicker and nodded politely. Huh, I thought, nor muggers or murderers or marauders. Bears. I didn’t expect to be any where near the creatures. So it was a little ironic that my first night out, in my first camp spot, I noticed a large, metal box near my picnic table. A bear box, it turned out. A place to put your food so the bears wouldn’t get it.
Luckily, I thought, I’d picked a spot by the lake. Bears would no doubt come down from the hills and there were plenty of other humans and dogs between me and the hills. (Rather cold, I know, but when you’re camping alone in the North Cascades you take a little comfort in such a non-gracious thought.)
Then I noticed that a tree about a foot from my tent had odd and deep scratches on one side.
Where a rather large creature had sharpened his nails — more than once. I was tempted to sleep in the car, but fatigue and laziness prevailed. I had a walk-in spot a fair distance from the car and it was so beautiful there. I told my trusty dog to let me know if any body/thing approached the tent, and she assured me she would.
(So sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t take you more seriously but fear not. No furry creatures appeared.)
I’ll attempt to post a couple photos here from last night’s view so you’ll see why I was reluctant to move my tent. Hot spot reception a little shaky here where I’ve stopped to rest at the Okanagon Public Boat Launch!
