Bearing With Me

We aren’t getting an opportunity to travel this summer, but we’re making the best of our staycation in beautiful Washington. Honestly, there is so much to explore in our state and even on our Peninsula, I don’t think we will ever be bored of finding something magical and interesting to see or do. Our family motto is, “it’s always an adventure” and sometimes, even the smallest adventure turns into a story of a lifetime.

My daughter has been fascinated with the stars and space since she was five and wanted a telescope for her birthday one year. I suggested to her that we drive up Hurricane Ridge early morning to let me practice some astrophotography, as well as catch the sunrise. She was excited about seeing Neowise, the comet that is gracing us with its presence in the month of July. The last comet I recall seeing was Hale Bop, back in 1997. I remember driving across the open plains of Wyoming with my parents, who were actually en route to a couple of job interviews and leaving us to stay with my aunt and uncle in Rawlins. As we came across the southern plains sometime in the middle of the night, my dad stopped the car to rest and woke us up. We all got out, groggy from lack of sleep, but to see the comet, larger than anything I could recall seeing streaking across the star-lit sky, was a phenomenon I cherish to this day. I remember my mom having her arm around me and the two of us standing amidst the blanket of stars, awestruck by the tremendous amount of beauty before us and the glowing ball of fire that was shooting past earth in its fast trajectory through the universe.

My love for the vast starry night sky began around the same age as Madelynne. I recall lying in my Grandma’s yard and looking at the unpolluted night sky, watching for shooting stars, or better yet in my Grandma’s eyes: satellites. She would always get so tickled when she saw them. I remember sleeping under the stars in backyard sleep-outs with my dad. It never got old. Even when my grandma got older, we would spend countless time at my uncle’s special haven in the middle of Wind River Canyon, where light pollution was dismal and the stars went on to infinite, and look for shooting stars or satellites, even the ISS. It was a love I wanted to share with my own kids and was stoked when Maddy finally began showing more interest for the night time sky.

My daughter was on board, so I quickly texted a friend of mine to see if she would be down to check out the comet and watch the sunrise with us.Kelly jumped at the opportunity in a heartbeat. We’re running buddies and kind of teacher soulmates: I am so grateful to have met her and formed such a wonderful kinship because between her and our other mutual teacher friend, I don’t know how I would have gotten through this crazy upside down school year without the two of them being my support and sounding board.

We woke up early Monday morning, around 2:30, to venture to pick up Kelly, before heading up The Ridge. The road up is always long and winding. I focused on the chance of animals jumping out in front of me, and taking cues from my hubby and dad’s driving, kind of steering in the middle of the road. Madelynne was in awe with the way the night glow from my headlights illuminated the new growth on the evergreens that lined the cement pathway up the mountains, reminding her of snow or frost.

Once at the top, we started gathering our gear: my camera backpack, a blanket, Madelynne’s telescope. Kelly had been up the day before and had scouted out a couple places that would work for us to sit and watch the sunrise and have a decent view of the comet. The comet was just over the mountains that were adjacent to Klahane Ridge and Sunrise Point, so we carefully ventured up to a perfect viewing spot with a bench that overlooks the road up to the parking lot and has a view of the Olympic Peninsula from one corner and then the Olympic Mountains south facing from another.

It was chilly, but we were prepared. We set up, and I began to shoot some photos. I am still new to astrophotography, so I had my settings ready to go prior to getting out into the wilderness and having to readjust my eyes with each shot. I took a few shots and enjoyed the cold and conversation. Madelynne was anxious and nervous about being up in the mountains and was clingy to both Kelly and myself.

We would venture up and down the trail, just taking in the views and the small amount of stars left in the night sky above us. About halfway into our session, Madelynne heard a branch break and she swore that a few yards away from the bench she saw something move, that was large and black. Of course, shadow play is notorious in the wee hours of the morning, but my heart raced. There was only one other car in the parking lot up here: we were alone. Kelly started grabbing our bags and took Madelynne up the trail a ways as I flashed my headlamp on the dark black spot Madelynne swore was a bear. Not really sure, I screamed “Leave bear! Go bear! Arrrrr!” As loud as I possibly could, with my voice echoing through the valley and forest around us. I swore I caught a glimpse of glowing eyes, a wet nose, and rounded face from her supposed lump and slowly made my way up to where Kelly was. I knew I made eye contact and made my presence known: that was what you were supposed to do. That is what I had always been taught.

We got to a high enough point to let our hearts settle down, and the sky was gradually becoming lighter as sunrise was soon approaching. We ended up taking a seat mid trail en route to Sunrise Point, overlooking a large mountain range of Mt. Angeles, including peek-a-boo views of the Strait. The sky was changing colors and the wildflowers were in abundance among the hillsides, cascading with white avalanche lilies that dazzled in the first morning light and deep purple lupine that hovered near the dirt trail.

Debating on our route back to the car, we decided to first, go back to our original spot and see if what we actually thought was a bear, was indeed a bear. Then, we made several “get away” plans if said bear was still lingering nearby, using the intertwining trail systems on the ridge to lead us anywhere back to the parking area.

As we began our descent, we encountered several deer (8 of them, as Maddy will tell you), and then we stopped to observe a large black object in a meadow near the Hurricane Hill road that was presently barricaded. The object was startled by a white work truck that had made its way to the blockade and stopped, as the object scampered toward the treeline, obviously spooked by the work vehicle, before stopping to nibble on the meadow floor.

“That has to be the bear,” Madelynne said. “It has to be! Mom, we really saw a bear!”

I was stoked. I had been dying to see one in the Olympics for some time, and finally my moment had arrived. We high fived and sighed relief, realizing that it was probably the bear from earlier. We felt confident in this revelation and began to venture back the way we came toward the car. A couple of people had taken residence at our original bench spot with their own optical gear, admiring the rising sun and the grandeur of the Olympic Mountain Range around us. Dense, lowland fog and cloud cover speckled the Strait views, and the sky was changing color from deep blue hues to bright pinks and oranges. It was glorious.

The visitors were pleasant and we chatted with them briefly. One was visiting from California and the other from Utah, staying with a family member in Sequim. The woman from California was in awe that we get to call such a gorgeous location our own and our home. We did confirm, though, the large dark spot that Maddy had heard crunching a log or twig under its weight was, indeed, not there, and it was definitely not the shadows playing tricks on us. Kelly and I exchanged looks of w.t.f. And our adrenaline was a bit higher than normal from the rush. The visitors confirmed there was definitely a bear they spooked when they drove in, so it had to have been the bear. We told them it scampered off and we said our goodbyes and headed down the trail toward the parking lot when Maddy pulled me back and pointed between the trees, something large in the meadow.

“Mom… That’s a log, right? Or a rock? Like one of those bear rocks?” she said, her voice shaky.

I laughed because her father and I joke on our outdoor escapades, looking for wildlife, and spotting rocks or trees and naming them “bear logs” or “bear rocks.”

“Fuck,” Kelly whispered, “Mel, that’s a bear, isn’t it.”

I shrugged, but I was stoked. I took the binoculars and looked through them and sure enough, bear #2 was adjacent from the path we had to take to reach our car and just munching away on the meadows cuisine offerings.

“It is!” I said excitedly. “How cool! What do we do? Where do we hike to? Oh crap, if that other bear isn’t “the bear” then this one…”

“Is,” Kelly finished. “Shit. Sorry for cursing. Sorry...Crap. Whoa. Ok.”

We had to figure out a plan to get back to the car, but we didn’t want to come too close to the bear in case he charged us. We only had some pepper spray, not bear spray, so we weren’t sure what the reaction of this guy would be. We didn’t want to mess with a 300 lb bear. We strategize: maybe cut through the hillside and down to the parking lot, wrapping back down to the car. Was it too steep? Would we be able to make it down? Not sure. But first, I decided I had to get some pics. I had to get a little closer. I felt like Joe in the movie Twister: I just had to see it!

Then, we thought about hiking back up the trail, going around those switchbacks to come out on the backside and middle trail….but that would mean, the other bear might be nestled in the woods somewhere and we didn’t want to surprise it or be mauled...

Or making a huge circle to go around the bear and come out on the trail. Except we didn’t want to hurt the fauna and flora: we were such nerdy conservationists. There was no right answer. We felt trapped. Our hearts raced, our minds raced, but I was less scared and more ecstatic. My first bear in Washington! Wow!

Shoot.

My energy and enthusiasm got to Madelynne, who was still scared, but thought this was a cool situation as well.

“I think this would be cooler if we were in the car,” she admitted, as we decided to hike back up the trail, go down the switchbacks, and come out near the trail that went past the grazing bear. If we had to, we would walk through some of the meadow and safely be far enough away from him.

Our final decision was to walk up and then cut down behind him. There was already a photographer there, so we figured if we walked behind the photographer, that would give us plenty of space to get around the gentle giant, who was really not paying much attention to us humans anyhow.

We made our way down the switchbacks and by that point, 3 more photographers had set up shop photographing the wild beast, who nonchalantly was eating his wild roots buffet without much notice of our presence. Kelly was adamant about getting back to the car, but felt a bit better once we were close enough to flip out her phone for a quick video shot, while I snapped a few pics with my zoom lens.

Once we were safely back to the car, I joked with her, “Thanks for bearing with us. I mean, anytime you’re in the wild, it’s always an adventure with the Schroedawg Quad.”

“Indeed it was,” she laughed.

The best part was sharing that experience with my friend and my daughter. I was able to calm my daughter’s fears, but also show her something truly magnificent when it comes to nature. She also has a love for the night sky so being able to observe the night sky with me by her side was something she truly enjoyed.

“Maybe next time we try my telescope out where there aren’t bears,” Maddy stated.

“You got it!, “I said, winked at her, and we made our way down The Ridge to start our Monday.