I thought I'd try this instead of posting the pictures. This gives a bit more photo op's but I'd better get better at loading these things. Good grief. I'm way past my 8-year-old genius of computing. I need to befriend some high school kids, eh?!
Back to the point, we packed camp into Pat's high camp spot (a mere 5 mile journey through easy road, rough mucky horse trail, and our previously bushwacked/made trail straight up the slope) and set up for the evening on Friday. We saw about 11 bears that evening and felt good about the prospects. The first morning, we decided against the getting up before daylight thing and just slept in until 7:00AM, and had a quick snack for breakfast before heading out to scout for bears. We spotted one immediately on "Blisterfoot" and promptly went after him. (We christened the sloping mountain as such due to the severe blisters we both received from the side-hilling required to go anywhere.) I got within 150 yards or so of the bear, but he saw us and was a bit spooked. Pat squeaked him and made him stop for me to get a shot off, but I was high. Pat was able to make him pause a couple more times, but I haven't practiced enough to feel comfortable taking another shot. After that sound disappointment, we kept going around Blisterfoot, closer to Pat's spot from last year, since we'd seen another bear in the area earlier. By this point my knee was making me less mobile, so I rested while he looked over the ridge. More mountain. No bears over there, visible anyway, so it was time for us to go back to camp and eat.
We took the "shortcut" down the mountain, through the brush laden valley, and finally back up our slope to camp. That was a bushwack ordeal. I could not believe how Pat made it through there in the dark and fog alone last year. I guess he wasn't really alone. That was incredible.
Anyway, that afternoon was mostly spent napping. We held up and tried to set up on a close high spot for me to try again. No bears through there, but we did see more on Blisterfoot that evening.
There is no way for me to describe how juiced Pat was. A kid in a candy shop does no justice. We hit the sack at a decent time to get up early and hit it before dawn the next morning. I have to mention the camp Pat set up for us. It was a semi-level area with 2 levels of sleeping quarters for us. He actually slept above me, despite the pictures. He leveled his area with some flat rocks and covered them with moss and hemlock branches. My area just needed the hemlock cushion and especially that second night I had blissfully deep sleep. I was not remotely nervous about sleeping under "just a tarp." It served the exact purpose of a tent, just a little better ventilation. I was plenty warm and cozy. Not worried about bears, either. I've yet to loose sleep in fear of those skittish things. They have to wake me up to eat me, so I sleep soundly. Pat did just as well!
Sunday morning proved promising as we saw 2 bears just above camp. I was again within 200 yards or so and laid prone with the pack as a rest. I shot again, but apparently my perfect shot turned into pixie dust before it hit the bear as he remained unscathed. My confidence seemed the only thing that was shot. Bullseye. I left the .06 to Pat from then on. I was done, and none too happy about it either. After a walk about and testing the rifle to determine that it was indeed shooting 4" high at 100 yards, I spotted another bear on Blisterfoot and sent Pat after it. I told him I'd follow with the pack, but I'd be limping along and didn't want to ruin another opportunity. Long story short, Pat shot it soundly, we blood-trailed the sucker for a couple hundred yards through alders/hemlock/grass until we could no longer find any blood to trail and finally gave up again. We knew when we'd been beat. Oh, and we had no more ammo. That made the decision easier. Again we started for camp, but decided we'd sidehill and forgo the bushwacking.
We'd gone about 500-600 yards before looking back. We just about died. Here comes this beauty of a black blob coming right out from where we had just walked, eating his heart right out without a care. We weren't even quiet. I think a few choice words were let loose at that moment. With laughter. Sort-of.
To close, we left that night and made it out just fine with one lone bullet in the rifle, saved for any unsavory encounter that we hoped to avoid with a lighter colored bear. We saw much in the way of evidence of these larger brown bears in the area, and when we stopped to gorge on the raspberries, we knew why they were there. Yum.
Pat came out of the experience with a huge appreciation for the area and excitement to go again. I left with a huge amount of frustration and annoyance. I tried to let his optimism win and can now look back with some fondness, but man, that was tough.