This just in: The bear facts!

Thursday night.....Millheim.....lobster....blah, blah.

So, it's getting late and I want to get on the road early tomorrow. I got a
twelve hour trip and I want to get through Chicago before rush hour (didn't
happen......another story).

I drive back to Hemlock Acres and park the van. I walk in the dark.....so
dark I can just barely make out Frank's tent in the distance.....pass it and
go another thirty feet to my own. Unzip tent flap, turn on flashlight,
undress, arrange pillow, and crawl into sleeping bag.......takes about two
minutes. I hear a vehicle coming up the drive and turn in at the campsite.
Frank. I know this because nobody else is in the campsite.

A minute later, Frank starts rummaging around in the tent......none too
quietly. I let it pass. But it goes of for five minutes. Sounds like he's
rolling up plastic sheets, dumping ice in the cooler, and stomping on ****.
What the hell?

"Damn, Frank," shouts I, "whattya having a war out there?" No
answer......but the noise stops. I don't know if he heard me and is
offended at my tone, finished what he was doing, failed to hear above the
racket he was making, or what. Whatever. I roll over and prepare to sleep.

Crash, bang, stomp etc. It goes on for several minutes. "FRANK!!" sez I,
immediately thinking.......hm....what if it's not Fr

"What?" says a voice from somewhere NOT at Frank's tent, and then, half a
second later, "BEAR!"

Uh oh.

I'm out of the tent in about two seconds......with flashing
waving.....without pants.

"Where?"

"Over there"

"****"

We back away to the edge of the campground shining lights to keep sight of
the bear who seems disinclined to vacate the area.

Frank says he's going to headquarters to tell Tom.

"Why?" I wonder aloud.

No answer.

We creep forward because we have lost sight of the bear.

Oops. There he is!

We retreat.

Frank says he's going up to headquarters to get a can to rattle or
something. He comes back a minute or two later and starts banging a fork or
something around the inside of a can as we move forward toward the tents.
The bear shows no sign that it sees anything unusual in all of this. I
suggest that we get in the presumably bear proof truck and try to use engine
noise and headlights to scare the brute (the bear, that is) away. Doesn't
work.

Discretion, we decide, IS the better part of valor. Frank drives up to
Mike's trailer and I get in my van.....still pantless.....to drive up to
Joel's and Dave's cabin. Half way there I realize I don't have my pants or
my sleeping bag.....so, back I go.

Leaving the van very close to the tent with the engine running and the
headlights on high I dive quickly into the tent and even more quickly back
out with sleeping bag in hand and pants clenched between teeth.

Arriving at his cabin ten minutes later, Joel wonders why I am sitting in
front of his door in my van with no pants on.

"Come on inside," I offer, "I'll explain".

Next morning........well, I'll let Frank tell you about that.

Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.

Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.

Wolfgang, and others: the PA department of bears, or whatever it's
called, says there is no record of a black bear (only kind we have)
EVER attacking a human bean in PA.

So I'm afraid your courage, and your caution, ( not necessarily in
that order) were wasted on that bear.

vince

From: vincent p. norris

Wolfgang, and others: the PA department of bears, or whatever it's
called, says there is no record of a black bear (only kind we have)
EVER attacking a human bean in PA.

So I'm afraid your courage, and your caution, ( not necessarily in
that order) were wasted on that bear.

There's always a first time.{:-(

Any time you encounter a bear, or any other wild animal, that shows no fear of
humans, it's best to give them a very wide berth.


George Adams

"All good fishermen stay young until they die, for fishing is the only dream of
youth that doth not grow stale with age."
---- J.W Muller

"vincent p. norris" wrote in message
...
Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.

Wolfgang, and others: the PA department of bears, or whatever it's
called, says there is no record of a black bear (only kind we have)
EVER attacking a human bean in PA.

So I'm afraid your courage, and your caution, ( not necessarily in
that order) were wasted on that bear.


Well, leaving aside the fact that neither (insofar as either entered into
the equation) was for the benefit of the bear........

Like most people I have, at one time or another, flirted with the fantasy of
being famous, but it was never an ardent desire of mine and at any rate I
long ago gave it up for more satisfying fare........um........which we need
not go into here.

Suffice to say that this particular legume has no desire to shatter, by
whatever means, a long standing and sterling record.

Wolfgang
who, let it never be said, is not afraid of bears.

On Sat, 22 May 2004 20:28:18 -0500, "Wolfgang"
wrote:

Thursday night.....Millheim.....lobster....blah, blah.

So, it's getting late and I want to get on the road early tomorrow. I got a
twelve hour trip and I want to get through Chicago before rush hour (didn't
happen......another story).

I drive back to Hemlock Acres and park the van. I walk in the dark.....so
dark I can just barely make out Frank's tent in the distance.....pass it and
go another thirty feet to my own. Unzip tent flap, turn on flashlight,
undress, arrange pillow, and crawl into sleeping bag.......takes about two
minutes. I hear a vehicle coming up the drive and turn in at the campsite.
Frank. I know this because nobody else is in the campsite.

A minute later, Frank starts rummaging around in the tent......none too
quietly. I let it pass. But it goes of for five minutes. Sounds like he's
rolling up plastic sheets, dumping ice in the cooler, and stomping on ****.
What the hell?

"Damn, Frank," shouts I, "whattya having a war out there?" No
answer......but the noise stops. I don't know if he heard me and is
offended at my tone, finished what he was doing, failed to hear above the
racket he was making, or what. Whatever. I roll over and prepare to sleep.

Crash, bang, stomp etc. It goes on for several minutes. "FRANK!!" sez I,
immediately thinking.......hm....what if it's not Fr

"What?" says a voice from somewhere NOT at Frank's tent, and then, half a
second later, "BEAR!"

Uh oh.

I'm out of the tent in about two seconds......with flashing
waving.....without pants.

"Where?"

"Over there"

"****"

We back away to the edge of the campground shining lights to keep sight of
the bear who seems disinclined to vacate the area.

Frank says he's going to headquarters to tell Tom.

"Why?" I wonder aloud.

No answer.

We creep forward because we have lost sight of the bear.

Oops. There he is!

We retreat.

Frank says he's going up to headquarters to get a can to rattle or
something. He comes back a minute or two later and starts banging a fork or
something around the inside of a can as we move forward toward the tents.
The bear shows no sign that it sees anything unusual in all of this. I
suggest that we get in the presumably bear proof truck and try to use engine
noise and headlights to scare the brute (the bear, that is) away. Doesn't
work.

Discretion, we decide, IS the better part of valor. Frank drives up to
Mike's trailer and I get in my van.....still pantless.....to drive up to
Joel's and Dave's cabin. Half way there I realize I don't have my pants or
my sleeping bag.....so, back I go.

Leaving the van very close to the tent with the engine running and the
headlights on high I dive quickly into the tent and even more quickly back
out with sleeping bag in hand and pants clenched between teeth.

Arriving at his cabin ten minutes later, Joel wonders why I am sitting in
front of his door in my van with no pants on.

"Come on inside," I offer, "I'll explain".

Next morning........well, I'll let Frank tell you about that.

Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.



Sounds like a bad dream to me.


g.c.

At least Joel had to wonder why you were at his door with no pants on.

"George Cleveland" wrote in message
...

Sounds like a bad dream to me.

Could'a been worse. In retrospect one has to wonder about the wisdom (let
alone the purpose) of playing flashlight tag with a hungry bear.

g.c.

At least Joel had to wonder why you were at his door with no pants on.

And he was gracious enough to accept the explanation with nary a raised
eyebrow.

Speaking of Joel, he has informed me that he intends to take a friend to
some ultra secret smallmouth hotspot not so very far north of your abode on
the weekend of June 11. He invited me to join them and says that if your
nice you can come too. Whattya say?

Wolfgang

On Sun, 23 May 2004 09:39:45 -0500, "Wolfgang"
wrote:


"George Cleveland" wrote in message
.. .

Sounds like a bad dream to me.

Could'a been worse. In retrospect one has to wonder about the wisdom (let
alone the purpose) of playing flashlight tag with a hungry bear.

g.c.

At least Joel had to wonder why you were at his door with no pants on.

And he was gracious enough to accept the explanation with nary a raised
eyebrow.

Speaking of Joel, he has informed me that he intends to take a friend to
some ultra secret smallmouth hotspot not so very far north of your abode on
the weekend of June 11. He invited me to join them and says that if your
nice you can come too. Whattya say?

Wolfgang

It sounds like fun. But unfortunately, I will be camping near the Rush
River that weekend with about 50+ other people chasing the sulphurs.
IOW thats the weekend for the WFFP Spring Clave. Don't suppose I could
convince you to change venues? Cyli will probably be there. And who
knows, maybe Kim James will show up to win another rod raffle. It
would be an easy shot up the interstate. The driver could basically
set the cruise control and then amuse himself in whatever fashion he
deems appropriate i.e. brush his teeth, press his trousers, have a
facial done, catch forty winks etc. At least until he hits the River
Falls exit.

This invitation is open to any ROFFian who might like to mingle with
the Cheesehead Nation's finest fly fishers. The sulphurs in question
include the common invarias and dorotheas but also the rarer
needhamis, a size 18 apple green fly. There will be the above
mentioned raffle, a casting clinic, alcohol and big fires.


g.c.

Wolfgang wrote:



I'm out of the tent in about two seconds......with flashing
waving.....without pants.


Yeah, those bears are even sexier than those Golden Trout!


Willi

"Wolfgang" wrote in message
...
Arriving at his cabin ten minutes later, Joel wonders why I am sitting in
front of his door in my van with no pants on.

Probably the only truth to the whole damn story.


Wolfgang
who is proud to say that he never messed his britches throughout the
adventure.



If I've told Frank once, I've told him a hundred times LEAVE THE DAMN BEARS
ALONE!!!! I swear, ever since the Black Bears started eating tourists in
the Smokies, the word has begun to spread in Beardom that humans taste JUST
LIKE CHICKEN!!! Now I do have to say in Frank's defense, that Tom
Littleton's suggestion that we drizzle Sardine oil all around Frank and
Wolfgang's campsite was a little crass and might lead the bear astray. It
appears this was the case!! Rudie didn't think it would be necessary as he
was already counting on selling off what was left of Frank and Wolfgang's
gear after the bear had dined. Seems he was quite well aware of the bear
and thought having a camper or two eaten by one would make the campground
famous and he could charge admission not to mention the influx of bear
hunters in the winter!
--
Wayne
To Fish is Human...To Release Divine!

Frank's Addendum:

I get back from Lawbster Night, grab a 12 pack from the cooler and head up
to Clave Central to chat. After about an hour, I head back down the trail
to the tenting area. As I get to the edge of the meadow, I hear a noise
behind my tent. I head over there and find a bear pawing through my cooler.
He stands up, reaching about 6 foot tall, hisses at me and then "huffs"
twice. At about that time, Wolfy's sleepy voice (with a tinge of
irritation) comes from his tent; "Frank, is that you?"
I hollar "BEAR" and start flashing my flashlight in the bear's eyes. He
drops to all fours and slowly loaps off into the woods, goes about 15 yards
and sits down. I continue to hollar at it.
Wolfy comes out in his bear baiting outfit (shirt, underpants and
flashlight) and we make all attempts to get the ******* to leave. As
Wolfgang said, this guy wouldn't leave.
I'd been complacent. No probs with bears for the previous 3 years and left
my cooler out. After the bear moved up behind Wolgang's tent, I cleaned up
what I could of the cooler mess and chucked it and some gear in my truck.
Thanks to Tom and Mike for affording me nights lodgings.
Next morning, I went down to survey the damage. The bear had indeed not
left. He came back and made a new front door on my new Kelty tent. He
pulled out my kitchen box and pretty much shredded the contents, eating my
breakfast cereal and bread. He had already eaten the remains of the barley
stew (of course, he did have sour cream with that) and a couple pounds of
butter. He then went back into my pawed through my clothing bag. I then
found my back pain bottle, crushed, but no top. It had about 40 Flexaril
and 10 Darvocet. Well, half of the Flexaril are gone and all of the
Darvocet are missing.
He then went out and shredded the side of the tent and then even knocked
over the plastic tub that had nothing but a propane bottle.
So, barley stew, sourcream, butter, and drugs. Rudy, the camp ground owner,
did mention that there had been a bear at the dumpsters overnight with a bad
case of the ****s. I figure that bear has a real good fiber and grease
system flush in the works. Just follow the **** and then listen for the
snores.
I decided to sleep at Cherry Run Friday night and at the Feather Hook on
Saturday. I did not want to meet up with a high- colonic-loving,
drug-crazed junky bear looking for some Captain Crunch and more milk.
Besides, my tent was now cross ventilated and would not keep out the
mosquitos.
By the way, before the night was out, everyone in Coburn knew me as the
idiot that left a cooler out next to his tent. I even heard about it at the
corner grill and grocery store in town. Oh well, it gave me reason to stay
at Cherry Run Friday night and take everyone's poker money.

--
Frank Reid
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