Don’t Leave Valuables in Your Vehicle.

In late summer 2024, I travelled to Roanoke for some consulting work and took a couple of extra days to hike the Virginia Triple Crown area again. It’s an incredible stretch of the AT, home to three iconic landmarks: Dragon’s Tooth, McAfee Knob, and Tinker Cliffs. It was Labor Day weekend, and the trailheads were busy. Luckily, I found one of the last parking spots at the Andy Layne Trailhead lot.

Signs there warned of recent car break-ins and suggested removing all valuables or ID from your car. So I emptied my laptop bag and stuffed everything into my backpack, including my laptop. The break-ins had resulted in identity theft from car registration and insurance documents, so it was recommended that you take all ID with you. My passport was in the laptop bag, so I put it in a Ziploc bag along with my wallet and car keys in my fanny pack. I left my suit on the hanger in the back seat, assuming the thieves might not be interested in a jacket and tie.

I planned to camp close to the Triple Crown sites to catch sunset and sunrise from the cliffs. I hiked to Lambert Meadows Shelter, the closest camping area near Tinker Cliffs. In a moment of pure serendipity, I ran into Texas Pete at the shelter. It had been 2 years and 900 miles from where we last saw each other on the AT. But that’s a story for another time.

Camping and fires are prohibited at the Triple Crown features, and National Park Service rangers can issue significant fines to anyone found camping there. So it meant a relatively short one-mile walk from the shelter to try to catch the sunset at Tinker Cliffs.  The views from the top of Tinker were amazing, but clouds obscured the sunset, so I started hiking back down while there was still a little light.

Thievery at the Shelter

The next day, I hiked seven miles south to Campbell Shelter to do the same thing at McAfee Knob, hoping to catch the sunset there. I cooked dinner in the early afternoon, stashed my food in the bear box, and went to the spring to fill my water bottle. I set my water bladder, bottle, and filter on the picnic table and stepped into the shelter for a moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fast-moving black shadow and thought, “Hey, look at the cute little bear.” I instinctively took a photo while yelling to scare the yearling bear off. My yelling had no effect. He hopped up on the table, knocked over my water bottle, and grabbed the Ziploc from my open fanny pack! Oh crap. In a flash, the seriousness of the moment set in.

The Ziploc had my wallet, my passport, and MY CAR KEYS! I’d have no money, no ID, and no way to get into my car!

I scrambled down the steps and chased after the bear, grabbing my trekking poles and water bottle on the way. I continued to yell and threw my water bottle, hitting it in the flank. Startled, it clambered up a tree and hissed at me when I yelled again. After a brief standoff, with me yelling and the bear hissing, the bear started to slide down the trunk. When it hissed again, the bag broke, spilling the contents at the base of the tree. The bear ran off with the torn and empty Ziploc still clenched in its jaw, probably surprised there hadn’t been a sandwich or cookies inside.

Relief set in after I accounted for all my valuables, and I was no longer in a dire predicament. Laughing off the moment, I almost wished someone had been around to witness or record the chaos. It must have looked comical, reminiscent of YouTube videos of grannies chasing after purse snatchers.

Summit Surprise

After my heart rate returned to normal, I secured everything in the shelter’s bear box before heading to the cliffs for sunset. The scenery and sunset were spectacular. There was a young couple on a date having a picnic on the edge of the cliff. I tried to give them some privacy as I bounced around the rocks taking photos of the spectacular scenery.

As I circled to the far side of the ledges, a hissing noise from behind sent shivers up my spine. I turned, and there, just ten feet away, stood my bruin friend from earlier. I let out a loud yell, which again didn’t seem to have any effect other than to startle the couple on the rocks. I pointed and told them I was yelling at the bear, but it had ducked back into the brush. “Honest, it was right there a moment ago.”

They didn’t seem to believe me. But a moment later, I heard the now-familiar hissing just as the couple yelled that the bear was right behind me! Now they believed me. They quickly scrambled to pack up and headed down the mountain. With the picnic gone, the bear disappeared too. Hopefully, it followed the food toward the Catawba trailhead and away from my campsite.

After a few more photos, I cautiously hiked down to camp using my headlamp to light the way. On high alert for even the slightest hissing sound, I clacked my trekking poles to make as much noise as possible as darkness descended in the woods.

The next morning, I hiked back up to the knob in the dark, hoping to time the sunrise for some more photos. It was a nervous walk. I hoped to avoid another encounter with the bear again, alone, and in the dark. But I worried more about the young bear itself, already habituated to human encounters and food. That usually doesn’t bode well for a bear as it gets older, larger, and potentially more aggressive.

Part of me, however, hoped to see the bear again. It would be quite a photo opportunity if the bear were out on the rocks, silhouetted against the colors of a rising sun. The sky began to brighten just as I reached the top. Hearing a commotion out on the ledges, I thought I might get my wish. But this time, the surprise wasn’t a bear, but a sunrise wedding!