Life

The Mountain Before Us

Christa Conklin
Written by Christa Conklin

Do you know someone who attracts a certain something? Maybe trouble or mosquitoes. I have a social worker cousin who, even in our youth, attracted those who needed emotional support. We would sit on a bench in a mall, or a park, and soon enough, a clearly troubled person would join us and engage her in conversation.

I attract bears.

Years ago, before kids, my husband and I were on an Adirondack vacation with friends. On one beautiful day, he and I went for a mountain hike.

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At the trail head were too many signs picturing bears and describing the peril of entering the forest. We were encouraged to sign the register before proceeding. We printed our names, smiled at each other with unconvincing confidence, and began the uphill climb.

Two hours into the walk, I was leading. And there it was. That all too familiar growl.

I stopped and put my arms out elementary-school-crossing-guard style. We both backed up slowly.

Then we turned, and I followed two well-known rules:

1) Don’t run.

2) I don’t have to outrun the bear, I only need to outrun you.

I speed walked past my husband who surely wanted to be between me and impending doom.

We could hear the plod-plod-plod behind us. I turned to look back, and he warned me to just keep walking.

We may have stumbled across a mama and her young. It could have simply been a startled bear, or one protecting its territory.

bear-kills-hiker-e1417030759670No matter the bear’s agenda, it followed us for a long while, and we arrived at the trail head one hour after our encounter.

We were thrilled to be alive and unharmed, and to have dinner conversation. We felt like champions of the woods, our survival celebrated by checking ourselves out of the register.

When we returned to civilization, our adrenaline rush was dammed by a terrible force. We mourned something far greater than the impact stolen from our fine adventure saga. Something angrier than a wild animal demanded our attention.

Our bear was protecting something and warning us.

The evil that overwhelmed us and the tale of our ursine encounter, was bent on destruction.

That morning in the woods took place on September 11, 2001.

SEVENTH IN A PACKAGE OF NINE PHOTOS.–– An explosion rips through the South Tower of the World Trade Towers after the hijacked United Airlines Flight 175, which departed from Boston en route for Los Angeles, crashed into it Sept, 11, 2001. The North Tower is shown burning after American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the tower at 8:45 a.m. (AP Photo/Aurora, Robert Clark)

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About the author

Christa Conklin

Christa Conklin

Christa Conklin is the home educator of her two children. She received her Bachelor's Degree from Rutgers College and her Master's Degree from Monmouth University. She studied in France, and once took first place in a solo women's kayak river race.

Christa worked for five years in the education department of the New York Philharmonic and another five years for Young Audiences New Jersey. She brought professional artists to schools to work with students and educators, and often joined teachers and students in theaters and studios for them to experience the arts as creators and audience members.

Christa studied dance and received a degree in music performance. She keeps these passions alive through her own practice and teaching others. Always an avid reader, and having worked with artists in all genres, including writing, she feels blessed to have found her voice as an author.