I’ve done it before and it’s fun. We followed our tour guide, who wore a huge pumpkin costume, around Cape May as she told us the haunted goings-on in the houses we passed.
She even had “electronic voice phenomenon” recordings from some of the homes.
It was a fun, goofy thing to do, but those EVP recordings totally flipped me out.
One was of a little girl who, I swear, said, “play with me.”
The tour guide explained a little girl from the 1800s had died in this home and people who’ve been in the house since say they hear her playing in the attic.
Probably not a good idea to recall this as I sit at home alone at night before bed …
Anyhoo, Robert had a counter suggestion for this weekend – hiking Bear Mountain.
I was up for that too, so we drove to upstate NY for my first ever visit to this spot.
On the way I peppered Robert with questions.
Is it straight up and down the side of a mountain? Because I need leverage. Will we get to the top before it gets dark? Should I have worn long underwear under my pants? Am I going to freeze to death? Is this going to be fun or upsetting?
In the middle of my interrogation Robert offered a tidbit I hadn’t thought to ask about.
We could see bears.
Bears?
Yes – it’s Bear Mountain, Robert said.
That’s right – Bear Mountain.
I’d rather see most any other animal than a bear.
I’d rather a rabid fox come running at me swiping at me with his little claws, knawing at my kneecaps with his sharp little fangs.
I could escape and get rabies shots and be OK.
But a bear. A big bear. Standing there.
And I’d just seen on a morning news show some guy who’d been semi-mauled by a bear.
He said he’d heard a sound and realized it was the crunching of his skull.
He sat there very composed (probably pumped full of painkillers) with a raw, bruised face and strangely molded head under a white gauze hat.
I shared this with Robert who explained that was probably a grizzly bear attack. If we were to see a bear on Bear Mountain, it would be a black bear, not a grizzly.
Black bears aren’t known to attack people, so, nothing to worry about.
But, let’s say it does attack. What do we do?
Run like hell, Robert offered.
Aren’t we supposed to make lots of noise? Why hadn’t I brought a whistle?
But I’d be too paralyzed by fear to make noise. Or blow a whistle.
And, are we supposed to run, or curl up into a ball? Or is that for a dog attack?
We couldn’t figure out the right thing to do during a bear attack, so I used my never-fail strategy for managing the unpleasant. I decided to pretend it could never happen and stopped thinking about it.
When we got there Oktoberfest was going on and very happy, red-faced people with huge mugs of beer were milling around the bottom of the mountain.
We found the trailhead and started our climb.
The beginning wasn’t difficult.
Someone had very helpfully built steps right into the trail, so it wasn’t like what I imagined climbing a mountain would be like at all.
It was more like going up a rustic, rocky outdoor staircase.
We waited and waited for the climb to become more of a challenge, but it didn’t. Nice, civilized stairs almost the entire way up.
And there were lots of other people climbing the stairs as well.
In my imagined bear scenario, Robert and I were crawling up the side of a steep, trail-less mountain, a huge momma bear charging from out of nowhere, crazed in her attempt to protect her cubs.
In reality, grandmas and grandpas were climbing the stairs, untroubled by thoughts of bears.
Couples were climbing with babies in sacks around their shoulders.
One baby caught my eye. She looked worried about the height and her proximity to the edge of the cliff. She seemed to be asking me if it was wise to be strapped to her dad’s back in all of this.
I returned her gaze with an, I don’t think your dad’s the sharpest knife in the drawer for bringing you out here like this, but I think it’ll be OK.
Eventually the stairs ended and it became more like rock climbing.
Watch your footing, I told myself as I followed Robert’s path.
There were large rocks, twisted trees, roads in the middle of the mountain for people taking the easy way up.
Finally we got to the top.
The view was lovely.
Clear sky, green trees, New York City in the distance. It was so pretty.
And the bears wanted nothing to do with any of us - bonus.
Going back down was harder than climbing up because I had the brakes on the whole way to keep from falling on my face.
When we made it back down we joined the Oktoberfesters.
We danced a polka to oompah music, which you can’t do without laughing like a drunk, even without the help of beer.
We checked out the hand-crafted tchotchkes and marveled at the lines people stood on for sausages and Belgian waffles.
We drove over to the artist colony Sugar Loaf, a sleepy little village that was closing up just as we were arriving.
Then on to Ananda ashram where we had satsang with Joan Suval who always makes you feel like everything is gonna be alright now, just like the song says.
Even for the little girl with fearful eyes on her crazy daddy’s back going up that staircase.
I hope she knows, everything is gonna be alright.
wish i could have seen you dance the polka.
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