Beard and bear – Grizzly Adams circa 1977
My lady and I are both shade-huggers, so over the summer we decided on the similar-to-UK-climate of Slovakia for a vaycay.
The second largest city in Slovakia, Košice has a lovely, small town centre and beautiful surrounding forests. We planned to have a relaxing holiday and stay local, with just one exerting excursion: a day trip to Slovenský Raj, the Slovak Paradise national park.
When we booked we didn’t realize that our group would made up of just three people – the tour guide and us.
We’d relayed our needs to the hotel (the beautiful Bankov), who we had booked the excursion through: we don’t really do hiking. Or climbing. Or anything too strenuous. We also don’t do sun. So, in our minds, a gentle, fairly level, shady stroll was what was in store. We were promised “a light hike”.
It began okay: in the shade and on the level. We asked what kind of animals we might encounter along the way. The answer came: a mouse. And perhaps a snake or two. Possibly wolves. Oh, and bears. It was bear cub season, which meant that mama bears would be particularly antsy, so we were to beware. And what should we do if we happened upon any of these bears? Drop our bags to the ground and back away slowly, apparently. We took this on board, but the reality of the situation didn’t quite sink in. Still – we hoped we’d get to see some cute bear cubs from a safe distance, or least a pretty wolf.
“Do you need the toilet?” was panicked guide-speak that translates into: “I just heard a bear”
It was then that our guide pointed skyward to a very, very high up precipice, seemingly disappearing into the sun. That, he explained, was where we were heading. Oh how we laughed. And then stopped laughing when we realised he wasn’t joking. Perhaps sensing the rising panic sprinting across my face, he assured us that we were taking “the easy route”. I believed him up until the point I found myself scrabbling up a vertical, muddy slope, in punishing heat, and direct sunlight. If this was the “easy” way up, I’d hate to have seen the hard one.
Oh, but it was so worth it once we reached Tomášovsky View, with its breath-taking CinemaScope sweep of bright green dense forest, and the snow-capped High Tatras, part of the gothic Southern Carpathian mountain range.
We headed on via a series of spooky abandoned scout huts on stilts (remnants of when the Czechoslovak Union of Youth had been indoctrinated into the oppressive Communist cause). They were eerie and stunning. The walk had taken much longer than we’d anticipated, not to mention more vertical, muddier and sunbaked, but we were deeply grateful we’d made all the effort.
Just then, our guide stopped suddenly, paused and asked: “do you need the toilet?” Assuming we were nearly back to the car, and having dehydrated away any need to use the facilities in the fierce heat, we declined the offer. Suddenly, somehow it dawned on us: “do you need the toilet?” was panicked guide-speak that translates into: “I just heard a bear”. We had indeed heard a creaking and snapping in the woods but assumed it was just every day, regular, woodland ambience. His face told us otherwise and he instructed: “We have to go back the way we came”. We were instantly, momentarily, hysterical.
It may have been due to our exhaustion, or just denial, but we composed ourselves, turned on our heels and calmly, if a little giggly, made it as fast as possible back to the car. Now safe, our guide admitted to having been severely shaken, driven only by his need to protect his tourees. Having experienced previous bear sightings, he explained our near miss: because it was cub season, female bears are particularly ferocious and would likely attack on instinct, no questions asked. He had to get us the heck out of there. We nodded, tired, but glad to be going back to the hotel.
Not until we returned home to England, with a disc of photos that the guide had taken of our trip in hand, did we realise what had really happened. There were shots of us looking pink and triumphant at Tomášovsky View and a few of us in Vrbov Thermal Park, the natural springs we popped into on the way back. Then there was a picture he’d included in order to illustrate our lucky escape. A mother bear, two cuddly cubs at her feet, jaw wide, huge teeth bared. Terrifying. Blood curdling. Did we really nearly get attacked by a bear? It was sobering. We were shaken by the reality – a mix of raw relief with just a little regret that we didn’t get a glimpse of those gorgeous baby bears. C
Corinna is one of the founders of The Ethel Mermaids. Read more at the Mermania blog, at The Ethel Mermaids Facebook page and on Twitter @ethelsmermaids