Summer in the northern latitudes means long, long days, early mornings, and late sunsets. During our travels in the Great White North (Canada), we often turned in before it got dark. With the tent pitched, our gear neatly stowed, a flashlight carefully placed, we’d crawl in and fall asleep under a pale sky that never seemed to go black. It did, though, usually after we’d nodded off. And that’s when the noises started.
The chewing noises.
Bear safety is critical when camping in the Canadian Rockies, and we are extremely careful about following the rules. We bring next to nothing into the tent, only a water bottle that’s been used for water only. And we keep an immaculate camp. Rangers lecture you coming and going, and they wander the grounds issuing citations to campers who leave their gear scattered about the place. They hand you flyers with photographs of cars torn open like tuna cans, big black bears munching away happily on the unsuspecting traveler’s supply of ramen noodles, power bars, and canned goods.
I’m afraid of bears. Though I’ve never had a run in with a bear, I’ve seen plenty of them in the wild and my heart leaps into my throat every time. The day before the Night of the Loud Chewing, the local papers were full of news about bear confrontations. A young man who was illegally free-camping had been nipped on the butt by a mama bear trying to figure out what was in that sleeping bag. He hoofed it top speed, barefoot, and almost naked to the nearest house, where he was treated for bites and fined for camping outside a designated camping area.
Typically bears don’t make a diet of stray campers. They fish and graze, filling their bellies with grassy plants and berries. When the chewing started, somewhere around the foot of the tent, I was sure it was a bear.
Chew, tear, chew, tear, breathe, chew some more, tear some more. The noise got closer, the breathing was uncomfortably clear. Chew. Tear. Chew. Tear. Breathe. I couldn’t see anything because the tent was zipped up and I wasn’t about to open it to look. Plus, what if it was a bear? The zip would startle the animal, and then all hell would break loose. I was terrified. I woke up my husband.
