15 for 15 Contest --- Closed

I just wanted to be alone.

I wanted to be alone, and the Pacific Northwest Trail called to me. 1200 miles of mountain switchbacks and dense temperate rainforest, it rivals only the more famous Appalachian Trail, back east, with its scenery and beauty.

Few hike the trail in late fall, and so it became my new home. Though I traveled light, the massive backpack bent me like rain, and for the first few days, my legs ached. But it made me forget about Sara.

After that, it – well, I won’t say it was easy going, but I reached my goal. Oh, I don’t mean “goal” as in “destination.” This journey was about the walk, not the destination, which I’d determined would be a little hole in the wall. Literally. The arch was named “Hole-in-the-Wall,” and my research showed me a natural stone arch on the Pacific coast, a gateway to… something else.

I wasn’t unprepared for danger, but I didn’t shy from risks. A small man, traveling alone through wilderness – I knew there would be hazards from snakes to slippery rocks. A broken ankle might be inconvenient in a city, but it could be deadly so far from roads and rangers.

A sleeping bag, a sack of rations, a GPS (kept off most of the time to save power), a radio and, of course, a gun, were my companions.

Of humans I saw few, and I counted myself lucky.

I don’t know what day it was, but it was a day of hiking through murky, moss-covered rainforest when I saw him. Or maybe her. A crashing through the tangle to my left brought me up short, breath heavy in my throat, and then, there she was: two tons of brown bear, eyes fixed hard on my own.

My hand went instinctively to my belt, but I stopped it. A .38 would only piss him off. I tried to control my fear – primal, visceral, primate urges warred with civilized restraint.

My hand fell away from the pistol grip, and I brought myself up to my full height.

So did the bear.

Towering over me, she drew lips back from dagger-like, glistening teeth, her front paws – her hands – swaying gently, if such massive appendages could deserve such an adverb, from side to side.

And I knew fear.

Bear. Fear. Such similar words, when written, and for good reason. We apes have long known our position in the food chain, sometimes at the top, and sometimes… not.

He looked at me, and I looked at him, and I saw why some cultures worshiped the bear as a god. Unstoppable, untouchable, apart.

Alone.

But as we watched each other, two omnivores meeting in a rainforest, a calm washed over me like nothing I’d ever experienced. A peace beyond battlefields, beyond beaches, took over. One of two things would happen, here: either I would live, or I would die. And the decision was not in my hands.

The bear turned and crashed off through the underbrush, and I breathed. And I knew that I could never be alone.