Cha cha cha: less is more

While many spent this weekend flipping burgers on a grill or setting off bottle rockets and roman candles, I enjoyed breathtaking views and the crisp air that only the North Georgia Mountains can offer. My in-laws recently purchased a home in Big Canoe, a private golf community that’s hidden away between Ellijay, Jasper and Dawsonville. The view out their living room is nothing but miles of preserved mountainous green space, and as night falls lightning bugs dot the landscape as far as the eye can see. After only a few days of being here these images are firmly imbedded in my mind and yet, try as I might, I cannot adequately describe how majestic the scenery is.

As spectacular as all this sounds, I often find that when visiting family for more than a couple of days I have to set aside some time to venture out and enjoy some solitude. I don’t find visiting in-laws stressful, but I think one of the reasons I don’t find it stressful is because I know when to sneak away and give them a break from my strident opinions and pointless anecdotes. When visiting them in Florida, I’d hop on the bicycle and ride to the clubhouse where overpriced red table wine was waiting for me, but in a mountain community a bike ride down to the club house would spell sudden death. Instead I opted to walk the dog.

Shortly after setting out on the hike it became evident that the map I had was neither drawn to scale nor did it give any real indication as to how curvy a road was. I had planned to take a simple stroll by following a line that according to the map was a simple circle. A more accurate representation of this road would have been a wet spaghetti noodle strewn willy-nilly on a plate. Furthermore the plate would have to be tilted so that half the walk was a treacherous fall and the trip back was practically a vertical hike up. With no houses and only an occasional deer along the first part of the journey, this course was also very isolated. I started to feel like Ricky Schroeder in that old movie The Earthling where he’s stranded in the mountains after his parents go careening over a ledge in a Winnebago. At least I had a cell phone.

Two hours into the walk I did run into a 50-something guy who introduced himself to me and, after learning of my destination, tried to convince me to turn back around. Apparently he jogs the same route periodically and said I was only about a quarter of the way around my spaghetti noodle. About the time I said goodbye to him Elaine called on the cell phone wanting to know where I was. I told her I still had a good ways to go but would call if I needed someone to come pick me up.

My dog and I rounded yet another serpentine curve when suddenly we heard some rustling sound in the woods somewhere ahead of us. We each looked up to find the source of the noise and froze dead in our tracks when we saw it. It was a bear. Before this point my experience with bears was limited to seeing the polar variety ice skate at the Budapest circus and the animated variety dance around in celebration of moist toilet paper. This bear wasn't like either of those. It did appear however that he was running straight for us, so I knew my options were either decide quickly what sort of action to take or find myself needing to borrow his moist toilet paper.

I got the impression the bear was as startled to see us as we were him. As soon as he got within sight of us (a good 20 yards away), he stopped and looked up. My faithful Irish Terrier was already pulling against his leash at the ready to dart into the woods after the bear the same way he would do toward another dog. I tried to calm him down with the hopes he wouldn't bark. About that time a car was coming down the road, and I motioned for the driver to stop which he did.

I don't remember the couple's names, so I'll just refer to them as Lord and Savior. Lord rolled down his window and explained that they had seen the bear running down the road. Savior mentioned that he normally hangs out in her back yard, and they were making sure he wasn't going to be hit by a car. As we were conversing the bear turned around slowly and meandered back up the hill through the woods. Lord and Savior asked me where I was going and gave me a sad look when I told them. They offered me a ride to the next cross street so as to get a leg up on the bear. I took them up on it.

Lord went on to tell me that the bear I had seen was about two years old and that this was his first year without his mother. He apparently spends much of his time in the woods behind their house, and if he gets too close, they just clap their hands and he runs off. They were concerned for him because there have been some unnecessary bear shootings in the area lately and they didn't want him to be one of them. My mother is want to leave food for her woodland critters as well, such as opossums, birds, squirrels, the neighborhood cats and at one time a fox, so I suppose I can't begrudge someone for checking up on a bear. Anyway, they dropped me at a convenient intersection of two streets so that I could either carry on walking or phone in a distress call.

Five minutes and one phone call later my father-in-law showed up to rescue us from wayfaring fatigue. My legs ached and the cell phone was running out of battery. Having set out with zero provisions, I was both hungry and thirsty. Moreover I didn't want to risk another bear run-in and not be able to call for help. So after a quick telephonic clicking of the heels I was back in the bosom of my family. I had a good story to tell, and now that I've survived the wilderness the views of Big Canoe seem all the more majestic.