Summer 1998

I just went on a camping overnighter with Erin up in the San Gabriel Mountains. Upon arrival at Chilao

Campground the guys in the neighboring campsite said, "Did you see the bear this afternoon?" Later, I inquired about bears with the Hispanic ranger collecting site dues, he responded calmly and with a slight accent, "Ee weel come, perraps 2am. You weel ear a 'crash!' when ee opens di dampster." "Does he ever

approach campers?", I asked. "No, not yet. Jus keep food een yor car."  I'm thinking, "Okay, we'll be sound asleep, we'll hear a little bump in the middle of the night, roll over and just go back to sleep. No problem."

We ate in the dark and I asked Erin three times if she was finished with the cheese so I could put it away.  She probably thought I was helping her with the calorie patrol. Unfortunately, our shared Chianti offered little support in the way of 'bravery in a bottle'.  We finished eating and all food was then locked in the Accord's trunk.

Using the faucet in the parking lot, Erin and I brushed our teeth and washed the dirt off our faces. Walking back to the tent I looked at the dumpster and wondered if it's contents would make for an adequate meal.  For a moment I considered supplementing the food supply with some fresh, creamy Havarti and dry salami-but then, cheese and salty, dried meat are so appetizer-like--better not to mess with nature, right?

I swear, a mere two minutes later, around 10:24pm we were setting up our bags in the tent when we heard a metallic "bang!" indicating the bear had just flipped open the lid of the dumpster 40yds from our tent.  Erin was not pleased.  So much for getting a head start on sleep. Sitting up on our knees we peered out of the

netted dome and strained our eyes in the darkness as Erin's fingernails made notable progress into the soft tissue of my palm with every sincere repetition of the phrase, "David, I'm scared! David, I'm scared!"

There were some tense moments that followed. Imaginary foot/paw steps could be heard.  Our geodesic, nylon shelter suddenly seemed more like the annoying, foil wrapping on a Hershey's Kiss. During the next 30 minutes the verb, maul, was used in each of its possible tenses.  We wondered if any kind of food might have

ended up in the tent with us. Erin was sure the bear could smell our bottle of water and would be thirsty.  "They have amazing noses!", she said.  I laughed at the idea as I further tightened the water bottle's cap.  Seeing the evident terror in my girlfriend's eyes I did all that I could which was to slightly make light of the situation with comments like, "You took the Mega-Protein bar out of my pack, didn't you?" and "Maybe he'll fill up on styro-foam and aluminum cans."  My favorite was, "How strong is a full-grown bear, anyway?" None of this seemed to comfort her.

We went back and forth on the topic of proper bear-attack procedure.  Do you lay down and play dead or jump up and down waving a towel and screaming?  We both agreed that the high-tail-it-and-run-for-your-life scenario was not the proper thing to do.  Although, in the back of my mind it was the only thing I could realistically envision happening.  We fantasized about having a gun, dog, can of mace or pepper spray. We had fond thoughts of our safe homes back in LA.  Eventually, the night noises and tension subsided enough for us to get to sleep.  It wasn't the most restful night as Yogi paid another visit to the dumpster diner around 3am.

The next morning I inspected the area in search of tracks from the nocturnal beast. None were to be found, perhaps they were already covered by people adding to the next night's bounty.  There was, however plenty of debris strewn about on the ground around the dumpster. Some paper plates had rather large puncture holes which was nice.

We packed up and headed back to the city as the temperature was already into the 80s by 9:30am.

Such was my first camping experience in Southern California.  Oh, and the stars were great!