The Phelps Lake Campground is an easy hike in with quick access to stunning views of the lake below Death Canyon. I was camped there in the summer of 2022 hoping for some Milky Way shots over the lake (spoiler alert – I was there way too early in the season to get the Milky Way above the lake). With the night shots not working out as planned, I took some evening and twilight shots, and headed back to my campsite, well aware that the area is active bear habitat.
The sun at this time of year sets close to 9pm, illuminating the landscape even toward 10pm. As such, I headed to bed around that time, expecting to get up around sunrise, close to 5:45am. My rest was cut short though.
At roughly 5:20am, I was awoken from my R.E.M. sleep by the sound of crushing branches and rattling leaves. I knew what those sounds were and my eyes popped open as soon as my brain registered that it was, in fact, not part of my dream. There was a bear searching the area for breakfast. I didn’t yet know if it was a black or grizzly. I stayed still, only reaching my arm out of my sleeping bag to grab my bear spray should I need it. Since the weather was quite favorable the previous night, I slept without the rain fly, allowing me to see everything going on around my tent. With my bear spray clutched in my exposed hand, I gently unzipped my tent a few inches to point the bear spray out (as if the tent mesh would keep out that much of the spray), and then waited.
As I listened, I could hear the snapping of branches getting louder, the rustling of leaves more clear. The bear was moving in toward my site, likely just below the hill I was camped on. Within seconds, a large 250-300 pound black bear sauntered up into my campsite, his (I’m assuming) nose scouring the ground for a prize. I’m in the habit of keeping my campsite clean and bear-proof, so my assumption was that he would keep moving through. But he didn’t.
I made vain attempts to yell at him to scare him away, but this was no young black bear. This adult knew his way around and he knew what he wanted, and shouts coming from a tent weren’t going to phase him one bit. Instead, my eyes bulged as he walked within two feet of my outstretched hand, bear spray ready to fire. And yet, he had not made an aggressive move toward me yet, so I refrained from pulling the trigger. He continued past my arm, then my feet, and behind a tree a few yards away. He stayed there longer than I had seen or heard him stay in one spot since I was woken up by him.
Nearly a minute passed, then finally the bear wandered back past my tent on the opposite side, his mission seemingly over. Aimlessly, he disappeared behind my tent and into the woods.
Now fully awake, I got out of my tent to see what the root of his quest was. Behind the tree, I found soiled toilet paper lying on the ground, barely dug up by the bruin. Apparently, the previous day, some moronic touron felt my future campsite would make for a good garbage disposal. This is exactly why Leave No Trace principles exist, and why everyone should be aware of them before doing any hikes, anywhere. By not following them, you could literally be putting someone’s life at risk.
Given that my safety was unknown, I opted not to grab my camera and take photos of the bear. Also there wasn’t enough light yet since the sun hadn’t come up.