1968 Bears do smell. I don’t mean my lunch strung up in a meager and meaningless attempt to keep it for myself. But they do smell that. No, I mean bears put off a scent. Perhaps it is Eau de Den to a female Ursus, but to my nose, it is a sticky sweet earthy on the fence between no thanks and jeez smell. In my little Appalachian Trail adventure with Mr. Bear, this scent was programmed into the olfactory lobes of my brain. Move forward one year and one month. My father has driven me from our new parsonage in Columbus to Young Harris where on the morrow I will enter that college as a freshman. This is to be some father-son time. We set up our camp in our surplus married housing trailer gotten from Emory University–their post-war GI Bill influx of students, I suppose–17 years before. We never even tried to connect water or electricity–most of our previous vacations there taken up with painting every square inch of its exterior and removing field mice from its interior. After camp setup, we headed to Crow Gap–a hike! We lost the old road in masses of blackberry bushes as soon as our ascent began. So much of the time the going felt straight up. To rest, all we had to do was stand against the uphill side of a tree and relax. Then we had the sensation of lying down! After a couple of these rest stops, we finally achieved Crow Gap’s summit (Can you say summit for a gap?) There in the September coolness, we lay stretched on the ground resting. We had in our respective daypacks a can of pork and beans each. Not being one to put off eating, I quickly devoured mine. I suppose my father was upset when he saw my empty can since he had intended we each eat half at different times during the hike. He went on ahead toward Sunset Rock while I rested more, fat and happy. This was one of the first times I felt the solitude of my surroundings in a wondrous light. Fall foliage change had just begun, giving the woods an open and brownish cast that brought back the best part of previous fall woods’ experience–this time so much the better for the lack of a gun–I don’t think I ever hunted again after this. My serenity in solitude was smashed as the scent of a bear wafted into my sense. I sat bolt upright and scampered off to rejoin my father.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 13:23:29 +0000