Half asleep in my tent and constantly shifting, I'm surprised to be thinking of my mother. I can feel the anger wanting to take hold. She's in Europe probably sitting at cafes and eating at the restaurants that all the pretentious people eat at. Sleeping on soft hotel mattresses, seeing ancient architecture, fitting in with the local fashion, and hitting all the best tourist spots.
I haven't had a shower yet, been eating food out of a pouch, and using toilets in the middle of a forest for every animal to grab some popcorn and enjoy the show. Sitting in a canoe that I couldn't tell you if it was comfortable or not because I can't feel my backside. I am enjoying it but I don't think I'd say it's better than a trip to Europe would have been. It's so frustrating that I can't even yell at her about it. Every time we've talked of late one of us is hanging up the phone in anger.
She's so selfish. If it wasn't for her I would have been hanging out with my friends having fun and not stressed out. I would have had a home and Dad wouldn't have had to short sale it. My stuff wouldn't mostly be sitting in Grandpa's storage. I would be sitting in my sweats getting nothing done, OK I still don't get much done up here either. The wind has picked up a little, and the tent is making all kinds of annoying flapping noises. I'm probably going to need a week of make-up sleep when we get back home. I hear things scurrying now and again that luckily all sound small. We've heard wolves howling at night but Grandpa says they generally keep away, that's only slightly reassuring.
I finally found a comfortable position and was dosing off when I heard what I thought was Grandpa snoring. He can't help it so I just tried to ignore it. It seemed like it was getting louder and accompanied by a stranger and thrashing sounds. I thought, 'what's got going on over there?'
I heard Grandpa's tent unzip and his shuffling about. He's footsteps were walking my way and all my senses were now on alert. I saw the light of a flashlight on my tent when Grandpa startled me, "Jordi!" He called.
"Yeah." I confusedly replied.
"There's a bear, can I come in." He warned. "He probably smells the food pack."
"Bear! Like a real Bear?" I asked hoping he was joking.
"Yes, a real bear, now let me in." He crawled in and the tent became uncomfortable close. He mouthed the words, 'no talking, as we could hear the bear making noise out there but had no real idea of what it was up to. Despite the close quarters I'm glad he came over otherwise I'd be freaking out even more.
Grandpa was calm and just listening, as I was fighting my desire to run. A sniffing sound behind my part of the tent locked my body in place and opened my eyes wide. I was directing my gaze toward my Grandpa to silently ask what I should do. He lifted both his hands to signal me to be still. I had no plans to do so. I could hear it grunting and breathing behind me and the anxiety of not knowing the bear's intentions were making me lose my mind. When I couldn't take it any longer it seemed that the noises were getting fainter, and it sounded as if it had moved toward the fire pit because we heard the sound of the metal grille screech in movement. I was able to relax a little and have some hope that the bear was losing interest and might be moving on. We sat scouring the air for any twitch or slightest indication that would confirm it had left. I was starting to relax my shoulders after minutes of unrelenting tension. "Is it gone?" I whispered. Grandpa shrugged. Just then behind me, something was moving, and Let out a ferocious roar as I'd never heard before in my life. The blood felt like it rushed out of my body as my arms involuntarily moved in protection. The bear was pawing at the tent. Grandpa moved me, forcing me to lie down low so the strikes wouldn't hit me. He started to yell. "Jordi, we must make as much noise as possible." He advised, and we both were making crazy noises as loudly as we could. The pawing stopped for a moment. Grandpa unzipped the door of the tent to look out. "He's over by the stove." He whispered. "We both have to go outside and make ourselves as big as possible and yell. Stand behind me in case it charges. Don't run. If we have no choice, we head for the canoe and the water. OK?", and I answer with a nod of understanding.
We exited the tent into the dark and there was just enough light to see the bear busy sniffing around the fire pit where some oil had fallen onto the dirt when we were cooking. I was standing behind my Grandpa when he gestured for us to start, and we raised our arms as high as we could and started yelling at the black bear. It was startled by us but not entirely sold on our threat. Grandpa grabbed a good-sized stick and started hitting the ground violently and yelling, "Get out of here" at it. He was moving towards it and repeating his threats. It seemed to be working, and the bear finally ran off in the dark.
I wasn't fully convinced that the bear was completely gone. Alone in my tent again I wasn't able to sleep as I was jumping at every noise. The squirrels are officially on my list with all their chatter. When we woke up the next morning there were plenty of bear tracks all around the campground but no damage to anything but my nerves. I doubt I'll sleep very well for the rest of the trip.
