Woken in the middle of the night by noises at our island campsite, I was out of the tent screaming at the top of my lungs and standing in my T-shirt, underpants, and moccasins, staring at a black bear that wouldn’t leave. My dog had never seen me acting so crazed.
I was leading a women’s canoeing weekend on Lake Umbagog with Mahoosuc Guide Service. Our group of 11 included clients ranging in age from their mid 50s to late 70s, a very capable 21-year-old co-guide, and an assistant.
We’d met on a Friday at the Mahoosuc Mountain Lodge in North Newry to do our final packing of gear into dry bags, and then loaded the van and headed up the road 12 miles to the start of our adventure. There was a lot of chitchat on the way up as people were getting to know each other and there were many questions of anticipation and excitement. One woman asked me if I ever saw bears and I said, “Very rarely and if you do it is a real gift!”
Little did we know.
At the lake, we had our paddling instruction, loaded the canoes, and paddled to the north end of Big Island and our campsite for the night. We had a delicious dinner of fried salmon fillets and many other goodies, topped off with strawberry shortcake and whipped cream. The shortcake we baked in the reflector oven set by the campfire. After dinner we all sat and visited and told stories and then went to bed with full bellies, happy to be out on the beautiful lake and lulled to sleep by calling loons.
Ashirah, my co-guide, Diane, my extra helper, and I shared a tent set up close to the picnic table, food, and fire ring. My chosen sled dog for the trip, Murphy, was tied close to the food and tent for extra protection and to warn us of animals or scare away squirrels.
I was awakened at 1 a.m. by the sound of ripping canvas outside my tent. I shot upright from my sleeping bag and shone my headlamp out the door into the eyes of what I thought would be a racoon. I soon realized it was too big and the eyes too far apart, though. Instead, it was a big black bear staring straight back at me—only 4 feet from my tent.
I quickly woke up my tentmates exclaiming, “You guys, it’s a bear! Right outside!”
I pulled on my moccasins and ran outside, yelling and running at the bear. It retreated behind a big pine tree only 25 feet away, then would slowly peek its head around the tree and look at me. I quickly got some pans from the picnic table and banged them together and charged toward the bear and tree again thinking it would run away. No luck! It did the same thing: peeked out from behind the tree with very human like movements. It felt like a person wearing a bear suit.
Then I thought I’d try running at the bear with Murphy, my dog, to see if that would scare it. I had Murphy on a leash in one hand, banged pots with both hands, and yelled at the top of my lungs.
The bear came out from behind the tree but retreated behind it when I ran at him screaming. Murphy, of course, was scared to death of me, having never witnessed such behavior in his life, and he was trying to get away.
When I realized this wasn’t working, I asked Ashirah if she had any ideas since she had spent six years apprenticing with a well-known Maine guide and hunter. Ashirah stands about 4-foot-11 tall and has a very quiet, self-assured and peaceful manner about her. When I asked her opinion, she stood and thought for what seemed like five minutes but probably was five seconds and said “No, I really don’t know. That bear really isn’t afraid.”
Meanwhile all the women were awake yelling, “What is going on out there?” And I was yelling back, “Stay in your tents!” I didn’t want anyone to have any encounters with the bear.
Since my experienced co-guide didn’t have a solution, I thought I’d better continue my aggressive protest and try to get the bear to leave us and our food alone. So, I once again chased it to the tree, but this time it came back out and stood up on hind legs, waving its head back and forth and growling at me.
There I stood—just 10 feet away—in my T-shirt, underpants, and moccasins with my adrenaline running full speed. I was yelling a very primeval scream, banging pots, and hanging on to Murphy, who was freaking out and still trying to get away. As we stood there staring at each other—the bear growling and me screaming—I think we had similar thoughts at the same time: I was thinking: It could get me in a split second with one swipe of a front paw, what am I, nuts? The bear was thinking: This is a crazed woman who is going to attack me. So, at the same second, we both retreated.
Meanwhile Ashirah and Diane had loaded a canoe into the water and were putting our food into it to float it away from camp. The bear had been watching this over my shoulder and decided to circle around to go for the canoe, passing right by a couple of the guests’ tents.
The bear was obviously after our food and I was still yelling for people to stay inside, not wanting anyone to get hurt.
One woman was alone in her tent and feeling very nervous. She heard her water bottle bang on the tree outside as the bear’s back hit it as he walked by, and she was beside herself. Though I told her to stay put, she climbed out—just as the bear was at her tent door. Luckily, it decided to give up on the food and headed off, leaving us be.
After the bear left, I called out, asking if anyone had food in their tents. A couple of women in a tent farthest away said they had apples but were afraid to come out because they could hear the bear walking in the woods close by. Ashirah went to retrieve the fruit.
My Mom, in her early 70s, was on the trip with a good friend and regular client of ours. I learned afterward that apparently before the bear had awakened me, he had untied our pack basket liner and had pulled out cookies and plums and taken them and eaten them right outside their tent. They had been lying in there awake, afraid, and wondering what to do. My Mom had whispered to her friend, “I don’t know about you but I’m putting my shoes on!”
After the bear left, we had to figure out how to hang our food in case our visitor decided to come back. Still in shock from what had happened, I searched in vain for branches big enough for the job. Then much to my surprise, I saw Ashirah shimmying up a tree in her bare feet, T-shirt, and underpants. She was a good 30 feet up with a rope in her mouth and was using a small piece of rope around her feet to grip the trunk of the tree with every step up.
Ashirah and her husband had lived in various types of shelters for years without running water or electricity. I said, “Wow, Ashirah, how did you know how to do that?” She said, “I saw it on TV once about seven years ago on the Discovery Channel.”
That cracked me up, hearing it from someone who I would never think of as watching television. We were both laughing away at 1 a.m. “Don’t make me laugh,” she said from her perch. “I might fall!”
Thanks to her tree-climbing know-how, we hung our food and went to bed. Everyone else seemed to pass quickly to sleep but I stayed on alert all night, my ears perking up with every little noise, though the bear didn’t return.
The next morning it was amazing to see where he had been and the remnants of our cookie wrappers. We packed our gear, loaded the canoes, and moved on to our next campground, where we hung our food before bed and had a lovely rest of the weekend.
On Sunday we met a game warden and told him of our encounter. He said “Oh yes, we know that bear.” Apparently, it had been going to sites every night and stealing food, coolers, etc. for about a month. He said they’d been trying to live-trap the animal to take him to central New Hampshire.
So that’s my bear story. It totally bonded our group and will be in our memories forever. It was a very special experience. Although that bear was hungry for our food, I feel he taught me a lot about courage and tenacity, and I thank him or her for that.
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Polly Mahoney and Kevin Slater own the Mahoosuc Guide Service in Newry, Maine. They run canoe expeditions and fishing trips in warm weather and lead sled-dog tours through the winter. You can find out more at mahoosuc.com
