Bear hunt! The idea sounded exciting. Finally, we were ready. Launching out from the dock near Sitka, Alaska, we headed up the coast of Baranov Island. My eyes took in the spectacular scenery of evergreens marching down to the sea, distant mountains, ethereal islands in the distance. Bald eagles circled round, while on the sea we scattered murres and murrelets as we passed.

We slipped into Nakrasina, an inlet shrouded by larch trees and tall head-high grass. Now this was going to be fun, I told myself. We headed down the path. I took the lead. We were going bear-hunting!

Strange to have paths in such a remote place, I wondered. So I asked.

“These are bear trails,” responded our fearless leader, a rather elderly gentleman.

“Oh,” I nodded. Of course. Bears are big creatures. They certainly would make trails like this. Then it hit me.

“And what if we meet one coming the other way?” I asked, beginning to realize what kind of situation I had got myself into.

“Well that’s the point of a bear hunt, isn’t it?” he replied. “Not much point of coming all the way here if we weren’t expecting to find a bear.”

It made sense, certainly. But now I wasn’t so sure I really wanted such an encounter. Imagine! I’d round a corner of this trail I was so blithely following, and there would be a great brown bear up on his hind legs, ready to take a swipe at me.

Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, I decided to drop back and let someone else lead. I paused to study in detail a most ordinary looking plant that had suddenly become most fascinating to me.

My mind overworked feverishly. I could see the headlines in the local paper. “TOURISTS MAULED BY MAD BEAR.”

Or maybe nobody would ever find out what happened to us all if each of us were killed. “SEARCH FOR MISSING TOUR GROUP CALLED OFF: Authorities find only abandoned boat.” In a modern version of the Marie Celeste, no one would ever know what had happened to our ill-fated party, until perhaps one day some other intrepid explorer stumbled across our whitened bones…

As you see, my fevered imagination was racing along at the highest pitch.

I dredged up the courage to ask the obvious. “So what if we do meet a bear?” I tried to stop my teeth from chattering.

Our leader smiled and drew out an antique firearm. I think it was a revolver, but it certainly was of an ancient vintage, and could even have been a flintlock. I’m no gun expert. I had visions of struggling to pour in the powder and cock the trigger as the bear charged…

In the end, we found no bear, despite searching all day. We found plenty of evidence of bear activity, (I even stood where a bear had slept!), but no actual bear.

For which I for one was profoundly grateful.

In the pleasant afterglow of a highly-successful day (in my opinion), as we skimmed the waters on the way home, I reflected on our search.

What would we have done if we had encountered a bear coming the other way? What would have happened if we had found him? What would I have done?

And I thought of God.

About the divine encounter. We claim to be searching for him. We seek him down life’s trails. At least that’s what we say. But what would happen if we met God coming the other way?

Would we be pleased to meet him, or would we be as surprised as actually meeting a bear?

© Jonathan Gallagher