Four of us ascended the trail. It was supposed to be a nice 2 mile walking trail, but being in the upper tier of Maine, no trail was tame. It was a full on hike. We might as well of taken climbing gear. We had no idea what we were in for. By the time we were 20 min in it was too late to turn around. 90 degree angles, climbing bars drilled into the sides of rock faces and rebar cabling to hang on to for dear life as you wedged one foot after the other into tree roots. Complaining ensued by a few of us who hadn’t signed on. I thought it was fun. We were actually climbing the small mountain we thought we’d only pass by. The rock face seemingly at a completely vertical angle as you cracked your neck looking straight up at it.
We scaled spots where you’d surely tumble down the whole mountain to your death with little to hold on to. After many short breaks catching our breath, cursing, and hanging onto each other for support, we managed to come to a clearing. Not quite the top, but it was certainly in sight at this point. We were soaked in sweat and ready for the payoff. We transitioned from straight rock climbing, to dense brush and tree cover, even some snow in mid-May. Then, we began stumbling over droppings. These were fresh and in abundance. Bear Droppings. Without a doubt we were stepping over, in and around bear droppings. We immediately fell silent. Between the 4 of us, we probably hadn’t even amounted to half an experienced hiker. But what we did know is that this was fresh, quite fresh. After it ended, we began agreeing and remembered learning that making noise and talking would keep the potential threat away. I was scared out of my mind. The tail of shit seemed to end, then it began again. This went on for five straight minutes. There was a bear, close. Definitely a few at this point. A whole fucking family of bears who’d just crapped out a week’s load of plants, small animals and hell, hikers. It seemed to go on forever.
We were surrounded by thick, dense brush on the choked trail. If a bear was on the other side, 3 feet away you’d never know until it was too late. Steven who was taking point, clanged his ring against his metal water bottle to create a bit of noise among our shaking silence. We attempted small talk, but our fear made it difficult.
Then, from another path, another couple. They were older, perhaps in their 50s. The wife was thin, clearly the experienced hiker of the two. She had a bright neon tank top on and a hat for the occasion. Hiking boots, leggings, the works. The husband seemed to be wearing boots, but not much else in preparation of the hike. A windbreaker and a large brimmed hat all around his head. With an 8 o’clock shaddow, he seemed to be begrudgingly following her quick pace with difficulty. It was a comical sight.
However, from his shoulder, swung a small gray pelican case. I wondered what it was for. I asked after we had struck up a conversation regarding which path lead out and down as we had reached the summit. Taking in the view, “What’s in there?” I gestured toward the case. “A revolver, for the bears.” He said, patting the case. “Oh wow, are they really that common?” I asked. “Oh yea, there’s always a sighting on these mountains. Attacks are rare, but it’s good to be safe.” I nodded.
We parted ways as they were moving at a quicker pace. The way down was more comfortable. We had reached the top, taken in the view, rejoiced in accomplishment as we’d never planned on climbing it in the first place and the way down was much more open and easy in navigating. As we joked and conversed on the way down, we heard a yell out in the distance. We all froze, trying to decipher what was being said. Then the crack. It ricochet against the trees in a giant echo. I began to run towards it. Then cries for help. The others followed me. I quickly stumbled over a set of rocks looking down on a stream the trail crossed to see the man standing there with the gun aimed at a giant black bear sprinting at him. He took another shot and missed. He fell backwards trying to turn to run and the gun went flying in our direction. The bear got to him and began clawing the hell out of his legs first.
It got harder to move or breath in that moment, watching this man be mauled to death. Moron. Had the gun but couldn’t use it. I turned around to see the other 3 frozen and wide-eyed as I was. The blood curdling screams of the man trying to defend himself in vain as the bear’s claws cut like twenty razors through his old windbreaker and into his flesh. The blood began to flow and his screams got louder. It was then I realized after the man was dead, the bear would surely turn to us. I didn’t know how fast a bear could run. He certainly had the upper hand. He knew the layout and we were wearing running shoes and shorts.
The revolver was in sight. Naturally, it was roughly halfway between myself, and the giant bear. It had to be the size of a pickup truck, or seemed so at the time. Even from this far away I could feel my life flash. Do I turn and run? Could we outrun it and book it down another way? Would it just leave us alone and take off if we all made enough noise and chaos? Should we all split up? Would this be it? The stupidest decision I’d ever make? Hell, the last decision I’d ever make? I silently decided and took a deep breath.
I started slow, but that was a mistake. The bear stopped and turned to me, I froze. The man was still and silent now. The bear was still picking away though, until he hear me. I sprinted. I was gunning for that chunk of chrome and the bear was threatened. It roared, then got into an aggressive stance. I wasn’t going for the bear, but the bear thought I was on the offensive, and started for me.
I heard screaming from the others in horror looking down on me. I was convinced the bear would get to me far before I even reached the gun, let alone aim and squeeze off a few rounds. It was like a game of chicken for what seemed like an eternity. I could see the whites of it’s eyes as I finally got within reach of it, I dove. I actually dove, which I’d never of done before as I never dive into anything but my mind told my body the only way I was getting to that revolver was by diving and I managed to pull it off like a pro base stealer in the 5th game of the World Series tied up.
I slid a bit, grabbing it on the way. I don’t think I had finished sliding along the leaves and rocks before I pointed it. It took more effort than I had anticipated to pull the trigger. By the time I did, the bear was practically on top of me. I wizzed one by his right shoulder. He was right on me now, standing on his hind legs about to claw down on me like poor Mr. windbreaker. I had the benefit of rhythm though and realized I had a few moments left before he pounced on me. This time, I cocked the hammer back, giving the trigger a lighter touch and I put one in his torso, he yelled as bears do at this. He had paused a moment, but wasn’t done yet. It was a five shooter. I knew nothing about guns, but enough of the few times my father had taken me out to a range when I was much younger. This was a small revolver. But it had .357’s in it. Windbreaker man fired twice, I missed once and hit twice. I had one shot left.
The bear got angry at his chest gaining a new hole in it And got real wide eyed and came down on me. I stiffed my arm, closed one eye and fired one as he was on his way down to kill me and managed the last round right in his face. He still came down, but he was in no position to argue anymore. The force of all the weight onto me free falling knocked me out. A few moments later I woke up to my friends rolling it off me. Jesus.