The Monster Bear

[RobMancebo]

The Monster Bear

by Rob Mancebo

George was a retired Naval Aviator with a great bunch of stories spanning WWII and the cold war.  Here's a hunting tale he passed on to us while in the shop one day. 

He'd flown into Kodiak Island, Alaska and was going to be there for several days.  Well, for those who've never heard of it, Kodiak is a rugged piece of real estate thrusting up from the icy ocean.  I gather it is not brimming with entertainment, but it does have one great tourist draw-- 'Kodiak bears'.  Now that's not 'bears', that's BEARS!  Huge bears!  Monster bears!  The biggest bears anywhere.  It also has rugged mountains and fjords.  So, you take a sailor who'd grown up in the Black Hills and give him a few days on an island lousy with bears, mountains, and fjords and what would you expect him to do?

He drew a rifle from the post armory and hired a local guide to take him out bear huntin', of course.

Well, he said that they hiked all morning and followed narrow trails up into some of the steepest mountains he'd ever climbed.  The guide led him high enough on those narrow trails that it would make a body dizzy just to look over the edge.  He never told us how much he paid that guide but it must've been worth every cent because that fellow knew how to find bears.  It wasn't long past noon before the fellow came sprinting back down the trail past him with one of those monster bears roaring in hot pursuit. 

George raised that borrowed rifle, took a bead on the charging behemoth and squeezed-- off-- nothing--

The rifle didn't even click.  He'd drawn it and loaded it but he hadn't taken the time to test fire it.  There was no time for immediate action, a frothing monster bear was thundering down upon him.  1,200 lbs of muscle, claws, and teeth!  He knew that he couldn't out-run a charging bear.  On one side of that narrow trail was a killer drop for hundreds and hundreds of feet.  On the other side was a steep, wall-like, mountainside.  He was trapped!

Well, due to the massive Alaskan precipitation, the mountainside was scored with deep erosion tracks.  They were like clawed out rivers running down the steep side of the mountains.  When he realized that his weapon hadn't fired, he jumped to the side so as to press himself into one of those erosion tracks and the charging bear, unable to stop, slid on past him. 

He stepped out, leveled his rifle while the bear was turning around, and squeezed-- off-- nothing-- 

The bear charged him again, and again all he could do was to jump aside at the last moment and press himself into the rut in the mountainside as the ursine behemoth slid on past.

Again he stepped out and tried to shoot the bear-- again nothing.  This time the bear was obviously getting tired of the game, he gave it everything he had, breaking into his best, enraged charge.  Again, all that George could do was jump aside and press himself into that rut and pray.  The bear slid on past. 

However, in his frustration, the bear had piled too much speed into his charge.  He slid on past George, but he also slid on off the trail.  George's last view of him was wide bear eyes as the monster twisted and scrabbled for a final hold before tumbling off the mountainside.
 
George admitted that he didn't go down the nearly sheer drop to claim his trophy.
 
After hearing that story, I had to opine,  "I don't see how you kept from soiling your britches!" 

George just smiled, lit his ever present cigar, and told me,  "Well, what do you think that bear was sliding on?"