Grizzly Just Mauled A Guy

Yellowstone National Park
Sept. 16, `75

Denny and I had a good time. It took awhile, but on the last full day
(I spent that day hanging around the campsite), I began to feel more
tuned in to nature. The weather was great. In fact, the weather was
the main reason I decided to stay on in the parks. Denny had to get
back to his music gig in Spearfish (among other things, he was
a really good musician), but on our way through Yellowstone,
I had him drop me off. We stopped at a ranger station to ask
where the last Grizzly had been sighted, and coincidence had it
that a sighting was phoned in while we were waiting to ask the
question. North of the Fishing Bridge area, a Grizzly had just mauled
a guy. That was where I headed.

I had no reason to go back to Deadwood. Late in September, with sixty
or seventy degree temperatures staring me in the face I had many good
reasons, however, to stay in the wilderness. I hadn't been really
satisfied with this adventure, and I wanted to give it one more shot.
I didn't really know why I felt that way. It wasn't Denny. He was
probably the best camping companion you could find, easy-going and
non-obtrusive. He didn't like bears, but I couldn't fault him for
that. No, there was something else bothering me, I just didn't know
what it was.