I have many of encounters to lament but the one that sounds like it fits runs out like this.
Opening day of muzzle-loader season for elk in the Blue Mountains of Oregon we all split up before first light and set out to work this drainage that had several finger ridges and creeks in it.
The plan was to send some around the back side with quads and we would start up from the road system in. It was a good sized area of roadless wilderness and in no time we had the legs a burning.
Sun came up on cue and I did a little calling to see what could be roused into responding. Not much so I kept climbing. About two thirds of the way to the top ridge line I ran into a couple of our party at about nine o'clock. It was decided that one would go all of the way up and over the top and the two left would start working the different stands of timber keeping the same elevation and headed north into the darker canyons.
Two stands of timber later I spot a good sized Black Bear hot footing off of the ridge our friend headed to. He was crossing barren ground and stood out like a pimple on a prom queen.
He came right to us and the timber we were in. My partner rolled him up at about 75 yards with a running shot. I was darned impressed at the shot and the back slapping begone. As we were celebrating and letting the bruin expire we were taking off backpacks and setting GPS's when this black blur came out of the willows of the little seep the bear landed in 70 yards up the hill.
He was now at 25 yards and headed our way. I stepped past my buddy with my .50 cal muzzle-loader and put a round right behind this diaperloading threat. I hit him hard but all it did was veer around me and head into the willow down the hill.
We could here him thrashing around trying to get his feet under him and come through the willows right at us. I looked at my buddy and in a soft voice reminded him that we were both standing there 15 yards from a bear that wants to chew on the top of our heads with two sticks in our hands. I can still remember the look on his face when we both figured out that both guns were unloaded and the Bear was coming.
You should have seen the reloading process. I think I only got about 3/4's of the powder in my gun and my partner not much better but we did get them loaded and by then that darn Bear decided he would rather not fight it any more. We then saw him next out of the willow on the other side of the creek dragging his front right paw and bleeding like a stuck pig.
We both tried to get a shot into him but the timber was just too thick and soon he was out of range. At this point we have a wounded Bear and he is headed into some real tight timber.
All I can remember is thinking not good- really not good. The part that really sent me was I just bought a new .44 S&W and it was in camp because I thought it to heavy for the climb. That never happened again.
We finally heard the death growl and closed the distance then both put another round in that poor bear for extra measure. I will never forget packing him out and the whole darn "wilderness" experience as part of the foodchain.
