I had an encounter with a large black bear one morning a few days ago while mountain biking near my home. It was just past 9:30, and as I was riding, I realized I was the first one on the trail that morning because I kept busting though spider webs that crossed the path. The area where I ride is a mix of quad runner trails, motorcycle trails, and hiking paths. I pulled off the trail to check on a rattle from my bike rack/trunk bag. I was literally about 20 yards from the state highway that goes by my neighborhood.
The dead-end spur trail I pulled off onto is about 70 yards long, and it runs right along the edge of a clear cut. It ends on a bluff overlooking the (sparsely traveled) two-lane highway. I stopped on the bluff, because it was the most level ground, dismounted, flipped down the kickstand, and was checking my bike when I heard a noise that sounded like horse hooves running on dirt and brush snapping. I looked up just in time to glimpse a patch of coal black fur, with coarse tufts of hair about 4-inches long, moving quickly through the brush from a knoll to a large, entangled mound of blackberry vines about 30 yards from me down the spur trail where I’d just ridden. I immediately knew it was a bear.
My first thought was that I must’ve triggered its predatory chase instinct, which may have been why it was running in my direction at about a 45-degree oblique. My second thought was “Oh f**k!” I grabbed hold of my bike, picked it up, and turned it sideways, so it’d be between me and the bear. I quickly ripped off the Mechanix Impact glove on my shooting hand and drew my Glock 19. Then I heard a noise over my left shoulder. I turned my head to look, and I saw a bear cub skidding down a tree about 30 yards from me, and I instantly realize I’m directly between a sow and her cub. I immediately thought, “Oh, I’m f***ed!”
I set the Glock on my trunk bag so I could tear off the other glove so I wouldn’t be distracted by it if I had to shoot. I turned my attention back to the blackberry vine mound. I couldn’t see the bear but I heard a low sounding “Huff!” I looked back at the cub and it’s now reached the bottom of the tree and it scurries off into the woods away from me. I look back to where the bear is, and I don’t see anything. I’m thinking, “I can’t believe this shit’s happening. I don’t want to shoot this bear.”
I’m holding my Glock 19 at a low ready in case the bear comes down the trail at me. I’m thinking, “If I have to shoot, I hope I get some good hits.” I’ve never trained for this. I’m also thinking, “How in the hell can I make myself look bigger and intimidating? I’m wearing Carhartt shorts, a muscle T, tennis shoes, and a bike helmet. Not gonna happen!” Then a sense of calm came over me. “Here we go.” I’m as ready as I can be, given the circumstances.
Suddenly the bear bolts from behind the blackberry mound, across the trail, and into the woods, following the cub. She was a big bear that looked well fed. She must’ve been feasting on the blackberries growing in the clear cut when I suddenly rode up and disturbed her and her cub. I was amazed at how quickly she sprinted. I could hear brush and twigs snapping only for a few yards in the forest after the bear crossed the trail and then it got eerily quiet. Where’s the bear?
I stood there for about a minute in low ready, then I started looking for a way to get from the bluff to the highway below (How in the f**k can I get out of here?!). There was a narrow animal trail behind me that went off to the left and down the hill toward the highway, but that meant I’d have to go in the direction where the cub had been in the tree. It was my only choice because I sure as shit wasn’t going back down the trail.
I holstered, then grabbed and carried my bike, looking over my shoulder the entire time. I started down the animal trail only to find that it stopped about 20 feet before it reached the highway, so sucked it up and carried my bike through knee high blackberry brambles, while wearing shorts. I could feel the thorns tearing at my skin as I hurried through. I crossed the highway (there was no vehicle traffic on it the entire time I was in the area) and I walked my bike up the road to the back entrance to my neighborhood, then I hopped on my bike and rode home.
Holy cow!!! I hadn’t been gone 10 -12 minutes. The encounter happened less than a quarter mile from my house (1036 ft, as the crow flies, according to Google Maps). The area where I ride is fairly remote and I don’t even know if I could tell 9-1-1 my exact location, and it’d be a b**ch for anybody to come in and find me. I ordered a “bear bell” to put on my bike and a loud referee-type whistle. Meeting a bear, much less a sow bear and her cub, wasn’t on my radar because bear encounters are so infrequent. We’ve had reports of cougar, bobcat, and coyote sightings in and around the neighborhood but not bear.
I plan to go back out to ride the same trail in a few days. I’ll be more alert and cautious. This was only the second time I carried my G19 while mountain biking in the area. Prior to this bear encounter, I’d entered the area by crossing through school property and I didn’t want to get in trouble for having a gun on school grounds. I’d recently discovered a discreet trail entrance off the highway which allowed me to bypass the school, and that opened the door for me to carry my G19. I also carry, in the trunk bag on my mountain bike, an ASP expanding baton and 4 oz. can of Fox Labs pepper spray. (I started carrying the baton and pepper spray after an unfriendly encounter with dogs in the woods.)
I’m going to stop wearing Mechanix gloves when biking.
The bear encounter drove home the point, for me, the random and unpredictable manner in which a potentially life-threatening situation can quickly unfold. If I’d stopped just a few yards sooner than where I did, the mama bear would have been right on top of me as she came over the knoll, and I don’t know if I could’ve reacted in time. She may have decided to attack instead of run away. I’m incredibly lucky, and glad, that things happened the way they did.
Had the encounter happened a week or so earlier, I could have easily been one of Tom Givens’ students that got tallied in the “forfeit” group because I didn’t carry a gun on the day when I needed it.
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Originally Posted by paherne
