My boyfriend, Matt, and I were spending the weekend in Vermont because my best friend was getting married. As the maid of honor, I was gloriously busy with the wedding all weekend.
So, when everyone else was heading home Monday morning, I asked Matt if he wanted to go for a hike (really just a walk) through the woods.
The weather was amazing and I was determined to do something outdoorsy and romantic while I was in Vermont and since my duties as maid of honor were complete, I could indulge.
We started off on a path along a small river. I had seen people swimming in it the day before when we were all taking wedding pictures, but today there was no one in sight.
It seems that when you’re in the woods of Vermont, you’re not entirely likely to see other people simply because there’s SO MANY walking paths and nature preserves.
Along the path, we saw a small, newly-made, pathway through the tall bushes that line the water, and followed. The water was crystal clear and the bed was all rocks.
Like mature romantic adults, we had a competitive rock skipping competition to see who could get the most skips and distance. I must say, we both kicked-ass.
We worked up quite a sweat from all that rock-tossing and decided it would be fun to swim. The water was shallow in most places but we found a spot that was a few feet deep. Since we were checked-out of the inn and everything was packed away in my car, we decided to go au naturel.
I wasn’t worried. I’m not particularly shy when it comes to skinny dipping; I prefer it, actually. Also, like I said, there was literally no one to be seen. We were outside for over an hour and hadn’t seen a soul since the newlyweds pulled out of the inn’s parking lot.
I waded halfway into the water and indulged in the free feeling that accompanied the moment. The sun was shining, the water was perfectly refreshing, the world was quiet, it was just me and my babe, who was admittedly taking a little longer to get in the water.
Matt was about ankle deep when we heard a rustle on the other side of the creek, about 100 feet away. I turned my head to look but couldn’t see anything through the line of trees. I decided it must be a fellow hiker.
“Babe, get in the water already so it’s not SO obvious that we’re naked,” I giggled and enjoyed this little rush I haven’t felt since college. (FUCK I’m old.)
His bare balls quickly take the plunge despite the chilling water. For a second, we’re just splashing and giggling but then, Matt gets this urgent tone in his voice.
“IT’S A BEAR.”
“No,” I said turning to look into the trees behind me, “you’re lying!”
Before I could turn all the way around--”NO, IT’S A BEAR. COME ON WE GOTTA GO.”
At this, the tiny rush I got from believing that was a person rustling around, grew into full-blown, heart-fucking-pumping, fight-or-flight mode and we choose FUCKING FLIGHT. We both dart our pale, bare asses out of the water, wildly splashing as we climb to the rocks where our clothes are.
Shit, what I would I pay to see a replay of that moment.
By the time we were out of the water, wet, naked, and vulnerable, I noticed the bear was gone and my excitement dwindled a little. I just started laughing.
In our panic, we had successfully scared this poor bear away from taking his post-lunch dip in the creek, and for that I am sorry.
I was also laughing, because I grew up camping, and I KNOW that is not how you’re supposed to fucking handle seeing a fucking black bear. Which then led me to imagine Matt and me huddling our still shaking, white, wet bodies together and waving our limbs in the air in an attempt to reenact a larger animal to scare the bear away.
For everyone’s sake, luckily, it did not come down to that and we lived to write this blog post.