A bear.

At last, at long last, I saw a bear. I almost killed it with my car, but I saw a bear.

After driving and camping from bottom to top of big BC and then spending the last four weeks hiking in Yukon bear country I still hadn't seen a bear. A porcupine, a few beavers and way to many chipmunks, but no bears.

I had to stop myself from pulling over, jumping out of the car and running after it so I could wrap my arms around it's chubby, furry, haunchy chest. They just look so cozy and cuddly with their lush, shiny coats that ripple as they stride and their big fuzzy paws that turn in a bit. How could they possibly do me harm? So strange to think that these lovely creatures are the reason we hike around singing at the top of our lungs and carry pepper spray (bear spray) and mini-explosives (bear bangers).

"Bears are movin'" our neighbour said today. Apparently they move closer to the lakes as winter nears to fill up on berries. I just hope I get to see another and that I am able to restrain myself from running it down and rolling around with it in the leaves.