Bear Spray Madness — The Wandering Collective

We were on a 10-day river trip, four rafts and 12 people. On this particular day our campsite was located on an old alluvial fan, that once long ago used to be a river bed, it was about 10 ft above the current river level. It was a gorgeous camp site, open, vast and covered in fluffy River Dryass.

It was a stunningly beautiful morning and the anniversary of one of the couples on the trip, everyone was in a cheerful mood. We bustled around camp, slowly discarding our layers of down and fleece as the sun began to warm us.

It was looking to be a perfect summer day, there was even a slight breeze coming off the river into camp, keeping the early morning bugs at bay.

We were just finishing take down and tidying the site. Two of us had made our way down to the boats ahead of the others to ensure they were all properly inflated for the day. Soon enough others started to join us at the boats and prepared to begin loading bags.

However, the bank up to camp was a reasonably steep scree slope, that made it just hard enough to walk things down. So, instead, it was unanimously decided that it would be much more reasonable to simply throw bags down to the boats rather than carry them.

While finally inflating our last boat, or the front boat of the entourage, the majority of the crew began to load the raft directly behind us. There was one person in the raft while the others on shore organized gear and threw it down.

Nothing unusual for a river trip, things were proceeding smoothly and effectively.

The two of us were chatting away while we worked, when a particular conversation caught our attention, though not enough for us to look up from what we were doing. We simply had stopped talking and were listening, while at the same time not paying much attention.

Should I take this off of the bag?

Nah, don’t worry about it, I’ll catch it.

(Somehow that doesn’t sound like a good idea…whatever, they know what they’re doing)

Ok….

(a few seconds, and some scuffling noises later)

BANG! Psssssss

RUUN!!!!!!

We both immediately halted in our task, looked at each other and then at the boat directly behind us, and with no idea what was actually going on took off running.

I wondered if it was a propane tank that got hit as I sprinted up the loose bank of rocks for supposed safety.

As we finally scrambled to the top, we were met with a view out of another time and place.

People were scattered everywhere, some were on the ground clutching at their faces, others bent over coughing. A lucky few had just stopped running, from this unknown hazard, and were cautiously making their way back toward the group.

I CAN’T SEE! I CAN’T SEE!

Someone began yelling as they stumbled over the rocks. Immediately, those of us still in good condition, grabbed a water jug and began pouring our precious source of fresh water over his face in an attempt to wash out whatever it was.

People now sprinted for the river, attempting to wash their faces and clothes in hopes of removing whatever was ailing them.

Still I am not quite sure what has happened, even though I was standing right beside the epicenter of this chaos, I was left completely unharmed…

As the agonizing substance was slowly removed from individuals, this chaotic morning eventually began to calm down.

An oar Lock is attached to the frame on the raft and holds the oar in place so that it does not fall off the boat into the water.

Finally the full story came to light:

The object that was asked if it should be removed turned out to be a single bear spray clipped to a small 20 L dry bag.

When the person on the bank went to throw it, they happened to stumble and awkwardly tossed the bag down toward the boat, where the waiting person now had to do their best to catch it. While the bag was barely caught, the bear spray somehow managed to land right onto one of the empty oar locks.

The momentum of the fall on the oar lock then preceded to puncture the canister (making the Pssssss noise). That beautiful cooling breeze coming off the river gently picked up the contents of the bear spray and carried it up the bank and into the unsuspecting faces of nearly the whole crew standing at the edge of the alluvial fan. Those few seconds they stood there, before running, was enough for some to inhale it, and others to get it on their face, clothes and in their eyes.

For the rest of the day the sting of bear spray painfully lingered. Despite washing the raft, our cloths, faces, hands and whatever else we thought had been exposed, that dreadfully painful substance remained with us. What we somehow missed was transferred to everything it touched and the horrendously painful sting on our skin continued to remind us of that morning’s events.

Needless to say, we are all so much more weary and careful around Bear Spray.

By: Bethany Paquette