As showcased in my previous post, I spent a night up on Mt. Hough to take photos of the stars and catch a beautiful sunrise while watching the mist swirling on the surface of Crystal Lake. That was all that was on the itinerary. Little did I know, however, that Ursa Major wasn't the only bear I would encounter that trip. After packing up camp and driving away from that divine place, there was a close encounter of the ursa kind.
I had been hoping and praying to photograph a bear at some point with the forest up at Crystal Lake being so remote. I exited the area in my 4x4 and crept down the mountain with my camera and 150-600mm lens in my lap on the drive out, with the settings dialed in for wildlife, just in case. The likelihood of spotting anything wasn't terribly high, having not seen a single bear up there the two previous two times I visited.
My expectations of seeing one were not only low, but I anticipated that if I did see one, it would be a small dot on the hill down below, hundreds of meters away. So far away that I would probably just attempt to get a photo but it would elude my lens like Sasquatch. How surprising it was, then, to see this bear sitting in the middle of the logging road after coming around a bend. Utterly just as dumbfounded as I was, it freaked the heck out and tore away into the trees, frightened by my RAV4 turning around the corner.
Even though my RAV and the bear shared the same coloring, I bore little resemblance to anything it wanted to do with. I stumbled out of the car with my long lens attached, heart pounding, and trying to see which way it went, but it was gone. Long gone, by any reasonable observation. The disappointment of being so close and then blowing my shot by scaring it away was so heavy.
Heading back down the mountain, thinking that the bear was a mile away by then, I got another surprise, going around another corner. There he was, further down the road, just behind the trees next to the road. This time I wasted no time. I trained my lens on it and shot as it stalked up the hill toward my car. Toward my car. He hadn't disappeared into the woods after all, just further down the road and now he wasn't afraid; he was curious.
The next twenty minutes were a dance. The bear continuing to get closer, me backing up and shooting, the bear getting closer, moving the RAV to maintain the twenty-five foot distance between the end of my lens and the tip of its nose. This encounter was the most exhilarating rush.
The only other time I had encountered an animal like this was 12 years ago when I ran into a moose in a similar fashion, only I didn't have a camera back then, and I was more afraid for my life. This felt almost out-of-body, like meeting a new friend. This Cinnamon bear was a gorgeous animal. I was honored to spend these minutes with it.
After shooting for quite some time in a pursuer-distancer dance, it was time to let it be curious with something else. It kept wanting to get closer, close the gap. It was a wild bear after all and I didn't want it getting too interested. It may have been majestic and friendly at a glance, but even I have some common sense every now and then. What a rush it was to photograph this bear in the wild. I will treasure these photos always.
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