The Bear That Almost Got Away
Yellowstone National Park had been at the top of my bucket list for years.
As we left Livingston, Montana, early that morning and headed toward the park, I could hardly contain my excitement. This would be my first visit to a National Park, and I had visions of seeing wildlife everywhere—especially bears.
I have always been fascinated by bears. Perhaps they represent wilderness itself. Growing up in the city, I rarely saw wild animals outside of a zoo. Sometimes it seemed hard to believe that truly wild places and creatures still existed.
There is something else about bears that has always resonated with me. Watching a mother bear protect her cubs reminds me of raising my own children. There is a fierce devotion in both that commands respect.
As we climbed into Yellowstone, however, our adventure took an unexpected turn.
Just over a month earlier, we had rebuilt the transmission in our truck before beginning our journey. Now, at the summit of a mountain grade inside Yellowstone, it failed completely.
Instead of spending our first afternoon exploring the park, we found ourselves parked beside a vast mountain meadow waiting for help. For hours we watched the landscape, scanning for wildlife while other visitors stopped to do the same. In truth, there are worse places to be stranded. The meadow stretched toward distant mountains, and the scenery was spectacular.
As daylight faded, tow trucks finally arrived—one for the truck and one for our RV. Because we could not leave the RV indefinitely in the park, arrangements were made to tow it to Gardiner, Montana, just outside Yellowstone’s northern entrance.
Frank accompanied the truck back to Livingston while I followed with the RV and settled into an RV park for the night.
Then, just as we were preparing to leave the meadow behind, they appeared.
A mother bear and her two cubs emerged from the shadows.
The light was nearly gone. Both tow vehicles were hooked up and ready to depart. I grabbed my camera and quickly snapped a few photographs, knowing the odds of capturing anything usable were slim.
With a sigh, we pulled away.
What began as a mechanical disaster turned into an unexpected gift. The transmission was shipped back to Oregon under warranty, and we rented a small car while repairs were arranged. Instead of a brief visit, we ended up spending an entire month exploring Yellowstone.
The little rental car turned out to be perfect. It was easy to maneuver through the park, simple to pull over whenever wildlife appeared, and ideal for exploring every corner of Yellowstone at our own pace. Over those weeks, we came to know the park far better than we ever would have during a short visit.
Later, when I downloaded the photographs from that first evening, I was amazed to discover I had actually captured something.
The images were dark and grainy, little more than silhouettes against the fading light. But in one photograph, one of the cubs was standing on its hind legs looking directly toward us. Its eyes reflected the last traces of light, while the outline of its mother and sibling could be seen nearby.
Sadly, somewhere over the years that photograph was accidentally deleted.
The image itself is gone, but the memory remains as vivid as ever.
Fortunately, that would not be my last encounter with Yellowstone’s bears.
Not even close.