Abram's Creek - Fishing with the Bears

It was a balmy summer morning and the campground was dense with a heavy white mist. The lack of any recognizable breeze left the air feeling stagnant and filled with the pungent scent of the forest mixed with the lazy trickling creek beside our tent. I was the first to wake and laid in the predawn glow allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I withdrew from my sleeping bag and began to dress when my wife shifted slightly. I could tell from her breathing that she was awakening from her slumber as well. As I donned my boots she began to stretch her arms upwards as she let out a gentle sigh. I wanted to get an early start on our first full day of fishing so I began to unzip the mesh netting covering the entrance. My wife let out a small, disappointed sigh as I told her that I was going to start getting breakfast ready and half heartedly sat up and began fussing with her hair. Neither of us were much for mornings except for me when it came to fly fishing and this morning held added allure as I had not fished Abram's Creek.

The campground was filled with campers and tents, but at this early hour was void of activity normally encountered during the later hours of the morning. Any movement or commotion that I had made was muffled by the thick moist air. I set about locating our plastic eating utensils, bowls and cups as well as the cereal, half gallon container of milk and small bottles of orange juice that we brought for a quick breakfast and a swifter clean up. As I laid the last few items on the picnic table, my wife emerged from the tent rubbing the sleep from her eyes and wearing a tender smile. She walked over to the table and opened a bottle of juice. While drinking the juice, she reached for a package of pastries apparently opting to forego the cereal and milk. We stood around the picnic table eating as the benches were too damp for comfort and after we had finished, my wife assumed the clean-up duty as I prepared our fishing gear.

As the sun began to fill the sky with an amber light, we set off down the trail to explore the river and locate some easily accessible waters. As it was early July, we had only brought our wading boots as the water wasn't cool enough for waders. As we departed the campground and entered the trails, we whispered in low tones, not wanting to disrupt the serenity of the nature around us. My wife mentioned that while she was throwing away the trash from breakfast, she noticed a paper that was posted near the garbage cans indicating that there was recent bear activity in the area. She had never seen a wild bear and was not exactly thrilled at the prospect. I had assured her that bears generally shied away from human activity and simply the sound of our voices would probably scare all but the bravest of bears away. I reminded her of all the noise from the other campers and the frequent foot traffic on the trails, but she seemed to talk a bit louder after I mentioned it. I dismissed the thought and changed the topic back to locating a likely fishing spot. We walked along the river until we saw a few fish rise ahead of us and then slowly walked forward while discussing our plans. We found a gravel bar and she was going to fish down stream while I would move up another 30 feet to the head of the bar and cast upstream to where the fish were rising in a small riffle.

When we reached the middle of the gravel bar, I tied an olive drab dunn onto her line with a small midge dropper and turned her loose. She was a capable fly fisher and although it was only her second year at the sport, she was able to manager on her own quite well. I gave her a quick reminder to watch her back cast amongst the low branches and she went on her way. I tied the same combination onto my tippet and began studying the riffle as I finished the knot on my dropper. I walked up to the edge of the gravel not yet wanting to feel the cool water seeping into my boots and began to cast. I laid the line 15 feet in front of me and watched intently as I mended the line back with the current. As the morning brought more light to the water, I quickly realized that the rises that we saw were from nothing more than creek chub and that we were probably going to need to head further up the river. I looked back to check on my wife and saw her retrieving her fly from a low limb that she had caught on her back cast before giving me a quick smile and returning to the river edge for another cast. I decided to continue fishing in the small pool up river from the riffle which I could reach with a longer cast without wetting my feet. I didn't want to rush her through her first set of casts and thought that I might benefit from the practice as well before hitting some better water.

On my second cast to the pool, I hooked into a small chub and started to bring it in. At the same time, I saw a commotion from the corner of my eye and heard my wife loudly whisper my name. I turned slightly and saw her briskly walking towards me with her rod in hand trailing the line behind her. Thinking that she had hooked into a fish or saw a snake in the water, I turned back to my rod and began to reel in the line. She again said my name, louder this time and with a distinct sense of urgency. I turned back to her and saw that she was frantically pointing behind her and mouthing the words, "Bear". I dropped my rod and swiveled around with my hands extended in the "halt" position half expecting to see a small bear slinking along behind her. Scanning the immediate area, I didn't see anything that looked like a bear, but then suddenly, the motion of dark fur caught my eye. By now my wife was standing behind me as I sized up the situation. The sizable creature was 150 feet in front of us and was walking out into the middle of the creek on a tree that had recently fallen in the water. It hadn't seen us and appeared to be scanning the water for fish or other edibles. At that moment, I was struck with the thought that we had just passed by the tree roots of the fallen tree only minuets before.

My mouth filled with a copper taste as my pulse surged through my ears. My wife grasped for my arm and asked me what we should do. Suddenly a thousand thoughts surged through my mind as I searched for the correct way to handle the situation. I was an avid outdoorsman and had been raised on summers filled with camping, spring days filled with fishing, and falls afield hunting for upland game. As the thought entered my mind, it simultaneously crossed my lips, "Look big and make a bunch of noise". I raised my arms and a second time said louder, "Make noise". For a brief yet eternal moment I paused and wondered what it is you were supposed to say to a bear to make noise. I said the first thing that came to my mind which was, "Hey bear!" I stood, waving my arms wildly and then the bear looked straight at us. My arms froze and my voice stopped midway through my second rendition of the, "hey bear" mantra. It gazed at us inquisitively for a moment before I began flailing my arms wildly and shouting my war cry. The bear sauntered to the end of the tree and dove into the water. For a moment it appeared as though the bear was going to swim up river towards us, however in a single powerful bound, the animal lifted itself to the far shore and sauntered up the mountain. We heard the rustling branches and breaking limbs grow quieter in the distance as we stood and stared in disbelief at what had just unfolded in front of us. As the small ring of ripples made their way up the river to us, I turned back to my wife who was visibly disturbed by the ordeal and held her tightly. I assured her that it was safe and that the bear was more afraid of us than we were of him. In my mind, I wondered about the absolute truth of that statement as I realized that the shaking that I was feeling wasn't coming entirely from her. I did my best to stay calm and present a relaxed and controlled demeanor to her and made a half hearted attempt to return to fishing. Mid way into the retrieve of my first cast, I turned back and saw the look in my wife's eyes and knew that it would be a day better served if we returned to the campground surrounded by the noises and clamor of the children playing the various radios playing.

I gathered our rods and we noisily walked back the quarter mile to the campground. We spent the remainder of the day in and around our tent, lounging, talking and occasionally wetting a line in the creek behind our campsite. It gave her time to calm down and eventually laugh about the situation and it gave me time to reflect as well. I was surprised at how quickly the events occurred and how equally quickly my reactions came. In the end, I surmised that we could have probably just as safely watched the bear for a few moments from that distance and had a more fulfilling experience but that it was also reassuring to us that the tactics of making yourself look big and making some noise really did work...at least in that situation.