Wed, Aug 17 2011 - Stone Mountain Trail Run and Hill Climb (View Original Event Details) Trip Leader(s): John T Participants: John T, Mark K.

What an event! Mark was the only person besides me to attend, so there aren't many witnesses trip participants to validate this account, but this is what happened, to the best of my recollection.

We ran the Cherokee Trail at Stone Mountain counter-clockwise, which allows for a moderate warm-up on flat ground. I kicked off the run with an easy seven-minute-per-mile pace. Mark thought that was too tame, so he started doing sit-ups every few minutes.

I could see he brought his "A" game, so I kicked it up a notch and performed pull-ups each time a low-hanging branch crossed the path. I could feel Mark on my heels, so we brought it to another level, running a six-minutes-per-mile pace. Then Mark picked up a tree and carried it across his shoulders. (Do not worry, ecologically inclined AOC-ers. He carefully selected a dead log.)

Running a six-minute pace while carrying a tree and performing pull-ups might sound challenging, but that was before we encountered the bear. You don't see many bears around Stone Mountain, but somehow a four-year-old girl had attracted the attention of a cub near the grist mill out by Stone Mountain Lake. The girl stood on the boardwalk in front of the mill, and the cub walked onto the boards from the south.

They approached each other cautiously, and the girl extended a hand to pat the cub on the nose. It was a heartbreakingly beautiful moment, and Mark and I slowed down our blistering pace to take it in. Then, from our left, we heard a bone-shattering roar, a sound louder than a jet engine, a sound like a large swarm of severely perturbed killer bees, a sound the size of three pregnant watermelons.

It was the mama bear, bounding out of the woods because she thought her cub was in danger! Mark and I stood on the edge of the boardwalk between the mother and baby bear. The mama headed straight for me, and I ran behind the mill house and leaped onto the water wheel, feeling a claw rip through the tail end of my dry-wicking sport shirt. I made a mental note to return it to REI for a full refund.

I sat on top of the water wheel, thankful for the distance between me and the bear. The bear reached a huge paw up to a slat on the water wheel. The claws found purchase in the soft, water-moistened wood, and the bear clambered onto the wheel. I began to run in the other direction.

The bear chased me, both of us running like hamsters on the wheel, until Mark burst onto the scene. He took one look at the water wheel and one look at the bear and took the tree off his shoulders and jammed it into the wheel spokes. The bear and I made a sharp departure from the wheel.

The bear flew to the north, and I flew to the south, and we each landed on our respective banks of the lake. The mama bear picked itself off the ground and headed straight for her cub, who was still on the boardwalk with the little girl, whose name was Susie. Mark unwedged the tree from the water wheel and ran in front to wave it at the mama bear, but she was unfazed! I knew we had to take it to another level, so I jumped in the water and pushed against the water wheel, which had been weakened by all the activity, until it burst off its spindle.

I rolled the wheel out of the water onto the south bank and took aim at the mama bear. Mark, little Susie and the baby bear took refuge behind the mill house, and I pushed and strained at the wheel to roll it onto the boardwalk. Mark charged out from behind the mill house, wielding the tree in his right hand while yelling, "Yaaaah!" He gently carried the baby bear in his other arm.

Together with my wheel-rolling and Mark's tree-waving, we convinced the bear to head for safety on the north shore. Mark placed the baby bear on the ground and shooed it in the direction of its mother.

We deposited Susie with her mother, who had been picnicking nearby, and the woman congratulated us on being such fine specimens of muscular courage. (I can hear some friends saying, "I smell a specimen, all right.") Mark and I continued our run at the six-minute-per-mile rate, with him carrying the tree and me rolling the wheel down the trail for safety. Who needs bear spray?

We ended the run with a quick sprint to the top of Stone Mountain, where we watched a beautiful sunset nestle into the smog over the Atlanta skyline. We lamented the fact that nobody joined us this week. If you're reading this and you're not Mark or me, you missed a fun outing. Meet us next week for another adventure!