Bears and Serious Socks

We should talk about hiking. It's enjoyable. You might learn something about yourself or nature. One day while hiking at Ricketts Glen, I learned about both. I can sum up this learning experience in one sentence: Bears aren't the only threat in the woods.

Ricketts Glen is a state park in Pennsylvania. I don't really consider it to be full-on hiking...it's more like a nature walk. Don't get me wrong, you shouldn't go in flip-flops like the jackass college students do [idiots], but you don't need those titanium/aluminum alloy poles [even though they are pretty bad ass]. The combination of mild-ish hiking and waterfalls means that it's usually packed with people/families/hippies/and flip-flop wearers. It's easy to forget that you're in the middle of a fucking mountain. with mountain animals.

Cousin A and I drove to Rickett's one Sunday late in the summer. We each took a backpack filled with supplies, mostly extra water and food, because I live in fear of being lost/abandoned in the woods. I am not a survivalist by any stretch of the imagination [please see below for details]:

That's how we looked for the majority of the day. Blissful, excited, and sweaty. What a perfect day, I thought to myself. After crossing several foot bridges, we passed a young family. The little kiddos were skipping and laughing while the father looked merrily on. They were the perfect family.  The mother, who I'm fairly certain is one of the Horseman of the Apocalypse, kindly warned us that there were bears up on the ridge, but not to worry, they were waaaaaaay off the trail.

I'll admit, I had several moments of absolute, paralyzing panic. That mother just calmly told us our skulls were about to be shredded. I could feel my eyes growing larger and larger in alarm as my mind digested what this mother was saying. I swear to you the woods got a littler darker, and I'm pretty sure it became totally silent. Hence, my belief that the Apocalypse was upon us. I tried to remain in my calm, cool, collect mode for fear of being judged by her young children who were staring at me with a sad, pitying look on their little faces.

She said: "...there are bears up on the ridge..way off the trail..."

This is what my brain produced:

As you can see, I get a little out of control when it comes to wild animals. My mind refuses to be realistic about any sound, movement or smell while I'm in the woods. I blame Freddy Krueger and The Blair Witch Project, but it's not all Hollywood's fault. Let's be honest, bears actually do make those horrifying, snarly faces. They also kill people. Now that you're in the same frame of mind as I was during this hiking adventure, you'll be able to fully appreciate the rest of the story.

As Cousin A and I proceeded across the foot bridge, my hawk eyes darted around like a cracked-out squirrel's, never resting on a single object for more than a few seconds. I was vaguely aware that Cousin A was talking. I could barely respond. I think I mumbled, but I can't be sure. I was in a fight for my life. Fucking bears! I was trying to remain calm, but my chest was about to explode in panic. That's when we saw them. That bitch of a mother LIED. The bears were right on the motherfucking trail! Foxtrot Umbro Charlie Kilo. [impressed by my military skills, eh?]

I desperately racked my brain for bear-surviving techniques. I thought about the countless hours spent with my father watching the outdoor channel and animal-hunting/slaughtering shows against my will. How in the holy hell did I not retain any of their unique survivor knowledge? Damn you little man in my brain. You've failed me again!! It was then that I realized how woefully unprepared I was for hiking. What is the common factor in all of those outdoor/animal shows? WEAPONS. None of those people are carelessly walking around the woods killing animals with kindness. I apologized to the little man in my brain. It wasn't his fault that I was completely inept in the wild.  Swearing at myself for not purchasing a crossbow at our local Walmart, I thought about fashioning a spear from a tree. Ah piss, the "knife" Husband bought at the Renaissance Fair in high school is in the OTHER fashionable hiking backpack.  So, no weapons or spear-manufacturing tools. I ran through all possibilities: give them carrots? sugar cubes? do I even HAVE sugar cubes? fuck it, they can have the trail mix. I'm pissed about wasting the chocolate, but would I really be able to enjoy chocolate if my face is ripped off? probably not. This is bullshit. Fucking bears!

This happened all in a matter of nanoseconds. I'll have you know that all of the hours of my youth that were spent watching Hunting/Maiming channels were a WASTE. I couldn't recall anything helpful, which means we did exactly the OPPOSITE of what I now know you should do. So, don't do this:

As you can see, we crouched behind a small sapling/pathetic excuse for a tree and whispered feverishly to each other, never taking our eyes off of the bears. I did have the presence of mind to ask Cousin A if she had her period. In a strange and brief moment of clarity, I recalled from Pop-Up Video that in Madonna's "Like a Virgin" video, she DID have her period and the lion handlers were all concernicus that the lion would be up in her biz b/c lions are ATTRACTED to it. I could only assume that bears, based on size and wild animal factor, would be the same way. If Cousin A answered yes, she was a liability; and I was prepared to take drastic measures. 

She said no so I didn't need to sacrifice her. In retrospect, I'm relieved. I would have looked like SUCH an asshole if I abandoned her in the wilderness. I probably wouldn't have been invited to family dinners anymore, which means limited material for future blogs. Cousin A and I retreated in small, quick steps across the foot bridge. That's when we saw them. The second threat to mankind in the woods: Intense Hikers. We could tell they meant business because 1) they were speed-hiking and 2) they had on serious socks. You know, the wool ones that are all mottled/speckled. Usually bluish in color and they look mega comfy.

Yea. Those.

We tried to regain our composure from our close encounter before hurriedly whisper-shouting "There'sfuckingbearsthefuckoverthereJesusGodinheavnwesawthem.wesawthem."

Serious Socks looked at us like we were being ridiculous. I got the distinct feeling they labeled us as "city girls." I felt judged. I instantly hated them and their stupid socks. Fuck you. I'm wearing trail running shoes. This isn't my first rodeo, so to speak. They walked right by us, completely undeterred. Cousin A and I shrugged and decided to follow them. They looked like they knew what they were doing. PLUS I was hoping the bears would charge at them. I'd totally high-five the bears after that. In the back of my mind, I heard a faint voice say "you're handing your life over to Serious Socks because you assume they know what to do based on their wardrobe?" "Haha" I laughed to myself and the faint voice. "They think they're soooooooooo awesome. Hiking experts, huh? Can't wait to see those bears devastate the shit out of your fucking stupid, overly-warm socks. It's summer, asshole."

I practically vibrated with anticipation as we rounded the corner. I took a deep breath, waiting for the roar of death. Instead, a mildly annoying, rhythmic beat flowed into my eardrums. Serious Socks had started CLAPPING [note: this is what you can do to scare off the bears, apparently]. Startled, I looked around both disappointed and relieved. Not a single wild animal in sight. Stupid Serious Socks. 

I think I mumbled some shit like "ohtherewaslikethreehundredbearsherejustasecondago.iswear." 

Feeling slightly mollified, Cousin A and I spent a few minutes gathering our thoughts/eating the shit out of that trail mix. I was super happy that we didn't waste any chocolate on the bears, by the way. We were also too embarrassed to walk behind Serious Socks so our little dual-purpose snack time provided the perfect opportunity to hang back while Serious Socks marched on. After another hour or so, Cousin A and I passed Serious Socks again. I regarded them coolly, realizing that I was more put off by their premature judgment of us and their stupid fucking clapping than I was by the bears. I learned that I desperately need to buy some bear mace and that I should never underestimate Ricketts Glen again.