Barely a Heat Mirage at Loon Lake

A Bear?

On the trail to Loon Lake

Damp from cap to boots, lips chapped, throat dry, I put one foot in front of the other. The scenery started to resemble that from the start of our hike. The trailhead was closer to us than the B-23 we left hours behind us. Wiping away the sweat dripping into my eyes, as pine needles crunched under my boots, I thought of the conversation we had before climbing into the truck. I thought of the conversation I’m sure we had early that morning.

He asked, “Did you pack enough food and water?”

“I think so. Are you bringing the nine?” I asked.

“It’s too heavy, I don’t want to carry it.”

“What if we see a bear?”

“If we see a bear, I will throw myself in front of it to save you."

I climbed into the truck and he kissed me on the forehead before closing my door. A few moments later we were traveling down the highway towards Loon Lake to check off an item from my bucket list. At the hottest part of that July day our early morning conversation seemed like a distant memory.

Before that day, I had read the hike to the Dragon Bomber was estimated at 10 miles roundtrip. A more accurate estimation from my pedometer made the trip closer to 14 miles. Fourteen miles hiked on one of the hottest Julys in recent history, through a forest scarred by wildfires, robbing us of its precious shade.

We started the morning full of curious energy. Hours into the hike I was covered in sweat, damp from cap to boots. I focused my energy reserves on forward momentum, head bowed in perseverance to survive our day in hell. My husband just feet behind me silently concentrated on his own momentum. Part hopeful exhaustion, I tipped my chin up for a glimpse ahead. Shambling on the narrow path toward me on all four paws was a large brown animal. Not more than 100 feet ahead and closing in. I had milliseconds to decide my course of action for survival. I dug around the brain box searching for a tool I thought I would never have cause to use. Was it run uphill, or down? Play dead or stand your ground? Then I remembered that morning’s conversation. …I will throw myself in front of it…

Smacking my husband on the shoulder, I moved behind him and pointed ahead …

”A BEAR! THERE’S A BEAR!”

***

The powers that predict the weather seem to always say we are experiencing record breaking heat. This July day was a credit to the character of that revolving statement. We started that cool morning, trekking toward history. A history of pilots who made their trek toward survival after the wings of their bomber were sheared off by the sturdy pines near Loon Lake. A snowstorm caused them to lose their way. A bomber carrying eight crashed on the frozen lake. Out of eight, one broke a kneecap, another scraped a hand. Inventory of their supplies was a 12-gauge shotgun and chocolate bars. After five days, two journeyed through waist deep snow in hopes of finding help. Five days later in waist deep snow those two found a ranger station.

***

Head bowed in perseverance, I thought of those two pilots making a journey necessary for the survival of all eight. Hard to imagine this fire branded earth covered in waist-deep snow. My trail was, most of the time, clearly marked. If not by signs pointing the way, but by trailblazers. We started the day with two granola bars, one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and three bottles of water. Each. They had nothing but chocolate bars and an abundance of melted snow.

I would have welcomed just a cap full of snow. I settled for a cap full of creek. I greedily dunked my cap into the shallow bubbling water, then clapped it on my head drenching my hair and neck. I felt like the thirsty forest floor, scorched by wildfire, scorched by sun. Revitalized for a few more yards before the coolant dissipated, we continued the journey back to the trailhead.

***

We had made it to what was left of the Bomber even though the closer we got to it the less clear the trail became. After the forest with tall pines disappeared, so did the trail. The scorched earth resembled an apocalyptic landscape with fallen trees obstructing our path. Boulders, baking in the sun, seemed to still smolder. Heat mirages danced in the distance, playing tricks with the eyes. We welcomed the final stretch of the hike before encountering the bomber. Meandering through the coolness of a marsh with wispy grasses, brought us to the wreckage. We etched our names into the crumbling fuselage next to the names of pilgrims who came before us. We ate our sandwiches and began the trek back.

***

Early morning conversation…

                                        …Bring more than you think you will need…

Not more than 100 feet and closing in. I tried to remember…uphill, or down… play dead or stand your ground… Then I remembered that morning’s conversation, "It’s too heavy…I don’t want to carry it."

Smacking my husband on the shoulder as I deftly moved behind him...

”A BEAR! THERE’S A BEAR!”

Many times I have camped in remote places. Many times I have ridden my ATV on desert trails. Many times I have explored back roads hoping to capture with my eyes and my camera a world of wonder. I have encountered skunks, rattlesnakes, deer, elk and great horned owls. I have seen bald eagles fishing creek side and sixteen alligators lurking in a swamp. I have seen vultures perched, waiting for their chance at carrion. And yes, I have encountered a world of wonder but, I had never seen a bear in any of these adventures. Today was no exception.

With more calm than a person about to be attacked by a bear should be able to summon, my husband said, "it's not a bear."

Peering over his shoulder, fear was replaced by doubt, then relief.  It's been several years since my eyes created a bear mirage in the heat at Loon Lake. Even though the animal shambling toward us on all fours was a very large, shaggy brown dog, my mind still sees a bear.

July/2015