BigBass123
Senior Member
As some of y'all may have seen I posted last week, I ran into bears on my last outing. Yesterday's trip I ran into another one only this time was much more terrifying.
For background I decided to try a blueline in the Cohutta's where 3 creeks merged at around 2600'. After driving to the location, spending quite a bit of time on dirt roads to get to the location, it is very clear based on the overgrown parking lot and lack of trash or other signs of humans that this was not a frequently used trail. At the start of the trip, that's exactly what I was hoping for.
As I begin to head down the trail, it becomes pretty clear the descent is much steeper than I expected from Google maps. After descending roughly 800' over the stretch of a half mile, I'm worried I'm already pretty close to the lowest elevation I'd expect to have year-round wild trout. The trail has completely flattened out however and parallels the river which has several creeks feeding into from higher elevations, giving me hope the water will be cold enough.
For the first two miles the creek is too narrow and shallow for me to even consider trying to fish it. As I make it further in, eventually enough creeks have merged that the water is consistently at least 6 inches deep, with little pools maybe a foot deep. Once I reached this point I began to fish the creek anywhere I could feasibly bushwhack to the bank (there weren't many spots I was able to do this).
The whole time I'm hiking in/fishing I'm keeping in eye out for any tracks or signs of bear activity, still a little on edge from last week and knowing that the next person to come along won't just be 10 minutes away like last week. Around the 5 mile mark, I see my first sign that anything else has ever been out there. It's a track, 3" long, 4 fingers, 2 pads on the heel, no claws. Another 50', another track. 50' past that I come up to a 2' tall game trail that appears to lead to a bedding area for something. Walk another 50' and I hear my first first animal call, sounds like it's about 100' in front of me.
Now supposedly there are no mountain lions up here, but that track is about double the size of a bobcat, and on the big side for a coyote (plus neither track had claw marks like a dog/coyote would). On the other hand, it is small for a lion. Regardless I decide I don't want to figure out which of the three it may be and make this the point I turn around.
I head past the second track, nothing new. I head past the first track, there is now a total of 3 instead of the 1 just a few minutes earlier. I'm very much on edge at this point and for the whole walk back I have some kind of animal calling every few minutes at a distance that sounds like it's always 100' away and in the trees.
When I reach the bottom of the hill to climb back the last stretch, I see a bad sign. The third set of tracks I see all day that are not mine or the ones I previously described belong to a bear. Two tracks, each about 5"-6" and based on distancing they belong to the same one at least. Several trees in the area have also had pieces of bark ripped off.
Now all of the missing bark was facing downhill, so I convince myself I just wasn't able to see it earlier and I must of missed the tracks. This is about all I can come up with since that trail up is the only way out.
Not even 5 steps into my ascent, I found the bear. As I was 90 degrees with a bush to my left, it roared and (at least in my head) the entire bush shook when he did. I was close enough to touch the bush with my left arm.
Unlike last week, where I was able to calmly stand my ground and then back off when that didn't work, I completely panicked. My first reaction was to turn my back to the bear and run before realizing what I was doing. As soon as I caught myself, I turned back towards it, stood tall, arms out and trying to talk as normally as possible as I retreated back 100'.
As I'm standing here, I quickly realize I'm at a low spot on all 4 sides with zero visibility forward, backwards, or to my left (2 of the 3 directions the I'd assume the bear would come from if it were to advance on me). Moving to my right by about 30' puts me on slightly higher ground, but also moves me towards the animal calls I've been hearing for 5 straight miles and most likely further reduces my visibility. I decide standing right where I was while everything cooled down was not any better or worse than anything else I could do.
After waiting 30 minutes on my watch after the initial bear encounter, I'm still hearing calls to my right but I have not heard the bear in a while. I decide to test with a rock throw in it's direction since I'm getting pretty tired of the calling. The bear very loudly lets me know it is still there.
I'm thinking my best odds are a group of hikers or coming down the trail that would have the bear outnumbered and potentially scare it off. I remember how remote the area is and that I did not see a single track or sign showing human life had ever been on the 5 miles I walked.
Another thirty minutes go by (both the fastest and slowest 30 minutes of my life). I repeat the process and it plays out exactly the same way, except 5 minutes later I hear the bear snort just a little to the left of where it had been.
I wait another 20 minutes or so and now something has changed. I hear the first call from my left instead of my right. It sounds closer, maybe 50' horizontally. It also sounds more vertical like it's from up above me. I try throwing a rock at the bear again, no reaction.
I immediately decide that now is my window to get out of here. I grab a pocket of rocks to throw at trees to create ruckus ahead of me to spook anything that may be there and throw one every 30 seconds until I'm out of rocks. This puts me about 400' from the base where all of this occurred and the animal calls stopped.
Not totally out of the woods yet (literally) I put some pep in my step and got out of there at a pretty good clip.
With only 5 creek chubs to show for the whole ordeal I will never be back to that area again.
I also have to say with two encounters in 7 days, and especially with how this one played out, I think any form of adventurous solo trout fishing is over for the moment.
For background I decided to try a blueline in the Cohutta's where 3 creeks merged at around 2600'. After driving to the location, spending quite a bit of time on dirt roads to get to the location, it is very clear based on the overgrown parking lot and lack of trash or other signs of humans that this was not a frequently used trail. At the start of the trip, that's exactly what I was hoping for.
As I begin to head down the trail, it becomes pretty clear the descent is much steeper than I expected from Google maps. After descending roughly 800' over the stretch of a half mile, I'm worried I'm already pretty close to the lowest elevation I'd expect to have year-round wild trout. The trail has completely flattened out however and parallels the river which has several creeks feeding into from higher elevations, giving me hope the water will be cold enough.
For the first two miles the creek is too narrow and shallow for me to even consider trying to fish it. As I make it further in, eventually enough creeks have merged that the water is consistently at least 6 inches deep, with little pools maybe a foot deep. Once I reached this point I began to fish the creek anywhere I could feasibly bushwhack to the bank (there weren't many spots I was able to do this).
The whole time I'm hiking in/fishing I'm keeping in eye out for any tracks or signs of bear activity, still a little on edge from last week and knowing that the next person to come along won't just be 10 minutes away like last week. Around the 5 mile mark, I see my first sign that anything else has ever been out there. It's a track, 3" long, 4 fingers, 2 pads on the heel, no claws. Another 50', another track. 50' past that I come up to a 2' tall game trail that appears to lead to a bedding area for something. Walk another 50' and I hear my first first animal call, sounds like it's about 100' in front of me.
Now supposedly there are no mountain lions up here, but that track is about double the size of a bobcat, and on the big side for a coyote (plus neither track had claw marks like a dog/coyote would). On the other hand, it is small for a lion. Regardless I decide I don't want to figure out which of the three it may be and make this the point I turn around.
I head past the second track, nothing new. I head past the first track, there is now a total of 3 instead of the 1 just a few minutes earlier. I'm very much on edge at this point and for the whole walk back I have some kind of animal calling every few minutes at a distance that sounds like it's always 100' away and in the trees.
When I reach the bottom of the hill to climb back the last stretch, I see a bad sign. The third set of tracks I see all day that are not mine or the ones I previously described belong to a bear. Two tracks, each about 5"-6" and based on distancing they belong to the same one at least. Several trees in the area have also had pieces of bark ripped off.
Now all of the missing bark was facing downhill, so I convince myself I just wasn't able to see it earlier and I must of missed the tracks. This is about all I can come up with since that trail up is the only way out.
Not even 5 steps into my ascent, I found the bear. As I was 90 degrees with a bush to my left, it roared and (at least in my head) the entire bush shook when he did. I was close enough to touch the bush with my left arm.
Unlike last week, where I was able to calmly stand my ground and then back off when that didn't work, I completely panicked. My first reaction was to turn my back to the bear and run before realizing what I was doing. As soon as I caught myself, I turned back towards it, stood tall, arms out and trying to talk as normally as possible as I retreated back 100'.
As I'm standing here, I quickly realize I'm at a low spot on all 4 sides with zero visibility forward, backwards, or to my left (2 of the 3 directions the I'd assume the bear would come from if it were to advance on me). Moving to my right by about 30' puts me on slightly higher ground, but also moves me towards the animal calls I've been hearing for 5 straight miles and most likely further reduces my visibility. I decide standing right where I was while everything cooled down was not any better or worse than anything else I could do.
After waiting 30 minutes on my watch after the initial bear encounter, I'm still hearing calls to my right but I have not heard the bear in a while. I decide to test with a rock throw in it's direction since I'm getting pretty tired of the calling. The bear very loudly lets me know it is still there.
I'm thinking my best odds are a group of hikers or coming down the trail that would have the bear outnumbered and potentially scare it off. I remember how remote the area is and that I did not see a single track or sign showing human life had ever been on the 5 miles I walked.
Another thirty minutes go by (both the fastest and slowest 30 minutes of my life). I repeat the process and it plays out exactly the same way, except 5 minutes later I hear the bear snort just a little to the left of where it had been.
I wait another 20 minutes or so and now something has changed. I hear the first call from my left instead of my right. It sounds closer, maybe 50' horizontally. It also sounds more vertical like it's from up above me. I try throwing a rock at the bear again, no reaction.
I immediately decide that now is my window to get out of here. I grab a pocket of rocks to throw at trees to create ruckus ahead of me to spook anything that may be there and throw one every 30 seconds until I'm out of rocks. This puts me about 400' from the base where all of this occurred and the animal calls stopped.
Not totally out of the woods yet (literally) I put some pep in my step and got out of there at a pretty good clip.
With only 5 creek chubs to show for the whole ordeal I will never be back to that area again.
I also have to say with two encounters in 7 days, and especially with how this one played out, I think any form of adventurous solo trout fishing is over for the moment.
