I've done some stupid things in my life; one of them was smoking cigarettes; another one was to camp out in a bear infested remote wilderness near a lake in northern Arizona...alone.
The smoking began at the tender age of seventeen, enabled by my stepfather. He said he'd rather I smoke 'em than sneak 'em, so be bought me my first pack of Winstons. I could barely keep up with his 3 pack-a-day habit, but I certainly tried.
I idolized my dad so much that I believed if he couldn't quit smoking, neither could I. (We can let parents have that effect on us.) He died from lung cancer a few years ago.
Twenty years ago I parked my truck on a firebreak road and dragged my inflatable boat down a game trail to a vista overlooking the lake. It was getting late so I made camp and prepared to make a campfire to cook my meal, I'd left my "smokes" in the truck. It was getting dark so I took my flashlight.
I found my cigarettes in the glove box, lit one up and started back down the trail when I heard a heard a threatening growl. I waved the beam of light over what remained of my campsite which was being torn apart by a huge adult brown bear. Whether he was territorial or hungry (or both) he had shreds of my rubber boat clinging to long fangs. The remains of the ice chest lay scattered, two days of food gone. Then he saw me; a terrified human being frozen where I stood. His mean red eyes gleamed back at me through the beam of the trembling flashlight.
The only things between me and that snarling bear lay a wide patch of dry summer grass and a More menthol 120 clenched in my teeth. He swung his head angerily from side to side. He charged just as I closed my eyes and took one last big drag off my cigarette. I knew it was over.
His front paw slammed into my chest forcing me to the ground. When my eyes popped open his powerful jaws were opening over my head. I exhaled the cigarette smoke into his throat, the cigarette falling into the dry grass.
I'll never know if it was the smoke or the fire that spared my life that day, but the bear stopped in his tracks and I saw his nose curl backwards over his snout with great distaste. "You really stink!" he growled in disgust, and he ran back into the woods. I called the fire department from my CB radio.
Two weeks later a pair of campers were mauled to death while sleeping in their tent...only yards from my own campsite. Evidentally they were non-smokers.
I used this story to rationalize years of continued addiction to smoking until I quit one year ago tomorrow.
