So many stories, so little time

Dusk was upon us. And with the sun setting at an alarming pace, my brother and I probably should have been making our way out of the wilderness of California's King's Canyon national park.

They had told us, at the visitor centre, to watch out for wild animals when meandering in the wilderness. For two Australians familiar with the innocence of occasional kangaroo sightings, we took this warning as a little joke.

"Mountain lions and bears!" scoffed my brother, "I reckon they're just trying to scare the tourists."

Still, I could have sworn I sensed the slightest hint of fear in his voice.

We were hungry to see more of the park's ancient granite structures, gigantic redwood trees, and translucent mirror lakes. As we trekked we spotted deer, tiny squirrels of all colours and heard the sporadic knock of the woodpecker.

And with no souls around other than our own, such solitude was certainly welcome after an intense several nights spent in booming Los Angeles.

Our trek was a circuit that lead past a great waterfall, and knowing that forward also meant back we wandered on in silence. Soon, the path was unexpectedly blocked by a gigantic fallen redwood tree. Using hardened tree fungus as leverage, we scaled the redwood with relative ease, and revelled in the glorious view from up top.

Leaping from the great collapsed conifer (and almost breaking an ankle in the process), we soon heard the unmistakeable and glorious sound of cascades, marking the near end of our trek.

We almost ran at that point, wanting to refill our depleted water bottles and refreshen ourselves. Suddenly, mid-run my brother grabs me and whispers ferociously in my ear, "over there - what is that thing there? It's a bear, oh my god!"

Laughing, my eyes followed towards where he was pointing. Gazing at us with ink-black eyes, was undoubtedly a good-sized black bear. The bear stood atop a little grassy crag, only several metres from us. The beast had an odd look about it; as if to ask, "what are two Australians doing in Central California?"

It was lucky that my brother had half-listened to the ranger in the visitor centre. Instead of making a run for it, we were to yell at the bear so as to dissuade it from attacking us. So that's what we did, and after a very long time, the creature turned and fled.

We drove back to LA that night, with a new appreciation for bears. Nature isn't always kind, but it sure makes for great memories.