TheTraveler

 

Rocky Mountain Hi
Susan Stephenson

Susan Stephenson loved exploring the Rocky Mountains. Next time, though, she plans to hire a trailer, one with onboard facilities.

So there I was, lying in the back of a truck in Jasper National Park, watching rain through the window. It was 11.00pm, still vaguely light enough to see through the gloom. Was that something lurking behind the bushes near the amenities block? Tourist information about the dangers of the Canadian wilderness jolted through my brain. A woman would have to be crazy to want to leave the truck and visit the amenities again.

Have you ever noticed how knowing you really “shouldn’t” need to go, just magnifies the need? It doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself AND your bladder there is no need, you know deep down you are going to have to open the window, drop down the tailgate, put on your shoes and jacket, scoot over to the edge and jump down in the rain. Then you’ll have to make a dash, evading predators, prowlers and puddles, for the amenities block.

I was preparing myself mentally, when a sudden snort broke my concentration. Of course, why didn’t I think of it earlier? My husband would want to protect me from the bears. In fact, it was probably in our marriage vows. Greatly relieved, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oof…wha’ a ma’er?” He opened one eye and closed it again.

“Wake up! I have to pee!”

“You’ll be ok. Take the torch.”

Four years of marriage had taught me plenty. I pulled out the big guns.

“Bears…(sob)…scared…(snivel)...” I knuckled my eyes and sneaked a peek at him. Bull’s eye! He looked tired but protective.

Yawning and sniffing, we opened the window, dropped down the tailgate, put on our shoes and jackets, scooted over to the edge and jumped down in the rain. I started to run, but my husband grabbed my arm.

“Wait! Didn’t they say NOT to run for some kind of bear?”

“Was that the grizzly or the black bear?”

“I can’t remember.”

A big drip fell from my hood and ran down my nose. I shifted from foot to foot.

“Look, let’s compromise. We’ll walk fast,” I suggested.

“And sing.”

“What?”

“Sing, you know, to make a noise. The bear bells are on the backpack inside the truck.”

“Okay, then. Come ON!”

He grabbed my arm again. “Wait!”

“Now what?”

“What will we sing?”

Have you ever noticed how men will fixate on tiny details when there’s a crisis? I thought about decking him with a fallen branch but decided I needed him conscious and defending me.

I took a deep breath. “How about Teddy Bear’s Picnic?” I suggested.

Marching in step, we headed for the amenities block. His deep voice and my faltering soprano drifted into the wet Canadian night. Perhaps the bears were charmed, perhaps they were disgusted, but we arrived at the concrete building unscathed.

“Don’t go back without me!” I kissed him goodbye in case a rampaging raccoon or marauding moose was using the ladies for its base.

“Okay.”

Have you ever noticed if you make an enormous effort to get to a toilet because your bladder insists you have to go, you can sit for hours thinking about waterfalls, dripping taps and rushing torrents but nothing happens?

~end~

Back to TheTraveler.