Smokey the Bear

We ran up and around Convict Lake this morning, an annual tradition of our week in Mammoth and a truly spectacular setting with a pristine lake to circumnavigate, surrounded by cathedral cliffs of granite.

The usual moment of visual splendor and fun is reserved to a 100 meter long footbridge at the far end of the lake that spans a babbling brook beneath the quaking aspens. We took our obligatory team photo there.

It was on the way back to the cars though that we ran into Smokey the Bear who was out looking for breakfast. Fishmermen and fisherlittlegirls took flight as a very bored looking brown bear sniffed and pawed through abandoned coolers, backpacks and jackets.

Our runners were long gone down the hill by this point, but the chaperones and coaches were treated to a zoo-like experience as Smokey discovered the live leftovers of a family of fishermen who scampered with their kids in tow up the 20 feet to the trail. Their two trout, (one of which was their four year old girl's first ever catch, her tear-stained cheeks telling the story of loss -- and fear -- in every drop) were 10 feet off shore in a basket stringer, awaiting their death sentence in a frying pan.

From out of the frying pan and into the bear's mouth they went, ripped neatly in two, an easy breakfast for the lumbering lug looking for an easy take. Some 40 humans peered on from the shore and a boat, curious of the wild. Smokey didn't return the favor. We were a mere backdrop to what looked like a daily ritual: Walk slowly into the fishermen's paradise, watch the humans run, take their food, move on.

A fun morning!