I Had an Unexpected Bear Encounter on the Trail

So there I was, less than 50 feet from a full-grown black bear, running right toward me at full speed. And the one thing that stood out wasn't its size, or its claws, or it’s teeth, or any sound it made; it was it’s demeanor. It was scared. 

Background

I’ve been hiking and backpacking for many years in many places with black bear populations. I thought I was prepared for anything. But this encounter made real everything I thought I knew about black bears, about myself, and about how I might respond to a situation where I would need to put all my knowledge to the test. 

It’s literally been thousands of miles for me on backcountry trails. I’ve read a lot of information from career experts on black bears, watched a ton of videos, and heard all kinds of advice – some of it misleading. I’ve even practiced how fast I can get my bear spray deployed, feeling a little ridiculous, like I was in a wild west movie. I even put together a summary video of fear as it relates to this beast. 

I have been carrying all that knowledge around like a shield,  pretending that knowledge was all I needed to survive a black bear encounter. I knew to make noise to help remove the element of surprise. I knew to not make the animal feel cornered. I knew that I should move slowly; stand my ground in most situations; talk in a low, calm voice; and make myself look big. 

I also know a lot of the important stats. For instance, we are far more likely to get struck by lightning than attacked by a black bear. If you listen to some people they will have you believe you are sure to die from a bear attack in the wild. But the fact is, there have been only 61 recorded deaths from black bear encounters since 1900. That’s 125 years – so, one every two years. 

And what that tells us is that these animals should be respected and better understood, because the numbers show that their normal behavior is not that of an aggressive predatory killer. 

Again, see my other video on all this. And please refer to the experts instead of those who only focus on isolated cases and only know some of the situational context. 

But all that aside, because it’s all just head-knowledge. Reading or listening to something on my screen is a world apart from standing face-to-face with a wild animal. The difference is adrenaline, instinct, and time that moves in a different dimension. 

In any super stressful situation, all our senses shift into survival mode. Everything will feel different in these situations and our bodies will respond in non-typical ways. 

In this article, I’m not just telling a story. I'm taking you inside the moments that tested books of knowledge and years worth of confidence building. We’ll take a look at what happens when you have no screen, just natural reaction and instinct. What did I learn about real animal behavior? What did I learn about my own behavior? These are moments that can change and shape how we walk in the woods.

Let’s talk about this one encounter:

The scene was a beautiful, quiet morning. I’m descending a mountain in Colorado. I had camped up high, near tree line, the night before. And I knew I had a couple hours of hiking to get back to the Jeep, and then several more hours of driving to get back home. 

I packed up early so I could enjoy the sunrise on the lake, then I began my trek down to the Jeep. The morning sun was starting to take the chill out of the mountain air as I followed the trail next to a cascading creek down a canyon. Everything was calm and I was reflecting on how lucky I am to be able to do this kind of thing. These moments of gratitude often happen in these kinds of places.

I was hiking solo, clacking my trekking poles together every so often, whistling a tune, making just enough noise to alert any wildlife that might be in the area, being safe and just enjoying my last couple hours of solitude. 

Then, the forest went eerily silent. Weird. The only thing I heard was a slight breeze through the aspens and pines, and the low rush of a cascading creek. The birds stopped singing, the air felt heavy. It was just different. 

I wasn’t alarmed or spooked, just aware. It was noticeable, but nothing to make me stop or worry. I thought, maybe it’s just that the forest is a little more dense here than it was up higher.

On these trails, in the Sangre’s of Southern Colorado, there are a lot of rocks. And so on this hike, like any other hike here, my eyes were focused on what was immediately in front of me, maybe 10 feet of the trail ahead. I'm watching each step to keep me from tripping over something. 

Then, suddenly I heard a rhythmic pounding, It was growing louder, hurried, and urgent, like a gallop. 

That got my attention. I stopped, raised my head, and quickly looked behind me up the trail from where I came. Nothing there. Then just as quick turned to the trail ahead of me down the hill. 

And there is was, not 50 feet away, a large black bear thundering toward me at full speed. It was panting heavily but not yet noticing me. It didn’t know I was there. It was running from something, frightened, frantically wanting to get away. It was scared.

Instantly, my heart hammered, but my brain clicked into knowledge mode. Don't panic. Don't run. Hold your ground. I gripped my trekking poles and slowly raised my arms to look bigger. I’m a small guy... so, looking big is difficult. 

Then in the lowest, loudest voice I could let out: “Hey bear! Hey bear!” 

The bear skidded to a stop, rocks and dust flying. The bear almost tumbling over itself. It finally noticed me, looking at me square in the eyes. It wasn't some mean or threatening animal stare. It was startled and afraid. 

I could tell it was assessing the situation, trying to figure out how to get away as quickly as possible. It wasn't looking at me as food or something to kill. It was solving a problem, determining the best option. 

It quickly glanced behind, then up the trail toward me. And then with great deliberation, in big pouncing steps, shot up the side of the canyon, opposite the creek, into the cover of trees and brush.

I could see it’s powerful muscles in its hind quarter and shoulders bulging through its thick hide. It was fully engaging in it’s natural instinct to escape. Not attack. This wasn’t aggression. It was survival. It was finding the quickest way to get away from me. 

Meanwhile, I’m assessing my options.

This is the part where you just need to know what to do. Like the bear, I went into instinct mode. 

I was standing on the trail right next to a creek. The creek had lots of large slippery rocks and cascading water. It was too wide to jump across. It had thick, impassible brush on the other side. To my right and left was a steep incline of the canyon. I wasn’t going to move up either side of the trail very quickly. 

My only other option for escape was to go back the way I came, which was uphill, the same direction the bear had been running. Again, not a speedy path. And that bear was moving much faster than I could. I wasn’t going to outrun an animal that can get up to speeds of 30 mph. 

All that was going through my head . I’m still yelling. Maybe a second or two had passed. The bear was gone. As fast as all that happened, the forest was back to normal – birds started singing again, time went back to normal speed, my heart rate slowed. I took a deep breath. It was one of those moments where you think: “did that just happen?” 

That bear was a beautiful animal. I didn’t have time to take out my camera to capture any of this. But I can vividly remember that the back half of the bear’s body was a shiny coat of deep black fur. The front was lighter, a dark caramel chocolate color that wrapped around it’s neck, chest and underside. 

I didn’t take my bear spray on that trip. I very rarely do. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Everything happened so fast and it was so close to me I doubt I could have deployed it in time. But, really, in this situation, where there was a clear escape path for the bear, the spray would have been unnecessary. It wasn’t attacking, it was escaping. 

Then I was left with nothing to do except continue making my way down to the Jeep. A few hundred yards further, I met up with a hiker that was coming up the trail. Just minutes before, he had encountered the same bear. He scared it into full sprint uphill toward me. 

I felt bad for the bear. It had two frightening experiences minutes apart that morning. Just a little further down the trail I saw where it had torn apart a rotting log, getting it’s breakfast of insects. 

In hindsight, this was the most amazing experience I’ve ever had witnessing wild instinctual behavior. Just incredible!

In my article I’ll talk about meeting up with a bull moose. This was an encounter that brought me within arms length of the most powerful, majestic, and stealthy creature I’ve ever seen that close up. Unlike this bear experience, that moose was not so much trying to escape as it was trying to more aggressively keep me out of it’s territory. 

I hope you’ll come back to see what happened there. 

Go Live Like You Want It.