To the Unlikely Stories home page

If You're Not A Bear or, What They Call 'Rescue' (Don't Come Cheap)
by Sub-commandante X

To the archived articles

It sounded good, quiet and serene even, spending New Year's 2000, camping and canoeing in Ocala National Forest. Well, so much for wishful thinking.

In reality, they sent police, helicopters, and park rangers to get me when I failed to return a rented canoe at the scheduled time. (I was gonna bring it back, honest.)

I didn't know what I was in for. When dark closed in, I pulled up on shore, and got ready to spend a wet, cold, definitely uncomfortable night. But, I'd gotten myself in this, and by my reckoning, I was prepared to get myself out.

I had just settled under the canoe close to the creek, whose water temperature was a constant 72 degrees, when the thunderous helicopter moved in close.

I was almost tempted to send it away. I was coping here, "Don't bother me". It didn't seem possible, but over all that noise and racket, a loudspeaker boomed,

"If you're not a bear, wave your arms."

(Bears can't wave, they explained.) Well, I waved everything I had. It's not like I was completely unprepared. Close though. The paper I intended to use for kindling was wet. Everything was wet.

I'd flipped the canoe three times before I remembered the art of staying stable and balanced. It's not like driving a semi down the interstate, with well-lighted signs and directions, y'know.


My lighter didn't work again for days. So, I had no light, no heat, and no dry clothes. But, I accepted the challenge. All I had to do was stay alive thru the nocturnal phase of one earth rotation. It's been done before.


I discovered I could keep the mosquitoes off my face by ducking my head under my shirt collar. Also, I learned that this was a good way to conserve body heat.

The temperature dropped to the low 40's. That's downright arctic weather for Florida, y'know. And, being sopping wet, just made it that much more interesting.

Yeah, 'I was up Juniper Springs Creek,' all right. But I had my paddle (and canoe). Just didn't have fire, light or heat. But otherwise, I was doing OK.

Later, Jackie Dean, the Padawatamie Chief told me,

"Look how much you've learned."

Oh yeah, I learned to take a waterproof flashlight, and waterproof matches with me next time I go anywhere near the water.

But, I did have my matte' tea, and plenty of dried fruit and nuts. So, I thought I could make it, and continue on my way come morning. The helicopter found me by an infrared heat-sensing device.

The loudspeaker said,

"Stay put, we're sending in rangers to get you out."

Really couldn't say, "NO, thanks", even if I wanted to. The prospect of getting back to my campsite (and warm sleeping bag) seemed positively delightful.

The first trick the park rangers pulled on me (not through ruse, or intentional humor, but blatant ineptness) was to get me into the 'rescue' canoe on the floor of the hull, under the cross beams. In tight and snug, and then they toppled the canoe.

"Was this some kinda prank?" I wondered instantaneously. No, they damn near drowned me. But I was not about to 'buy the creek' through the clumsiness of these 'rescuers'.

By this time, I'd developed a pretty good knack of getting myself out of a capsized canoe. Once I stopped coughing the water out of my lungs, and could stand up, I kinda enjoyed seeing these big, professional, outdoors types getting soaked, shivering, and looking embarrassed, just like real folks.

I didn't feel so all alone, then.

The leader of the rescue team unfolded a sheet of something that looked like aluminum foil and he wrapped it around me. He called it a 'blanket'.

I didn't laugh, cry, or argue. I just pulled it tight. Yeah, it was an improvement. Besides, I knew I was warmer than the rangers, so I forgave them for the bath.



But, next morning, it was a bit of a shock, when the manager of the campground handed me a 'bill' ($540.00) for all the staff and equipment used in the "rescue," he said.

The Juniper Springs campground at Ocala National Forest did everything they could do to insure that I wouldn't forget my adventure. You can be sure I'll be planning my next trip back, real soon.

Even the county cops, who drove me back to my campsite, jumped on the 'bill 'em' bandwagon. They said I could be expecting a bill from Volusia County for their staff and equipment, too.

Let's see, that'll be roughly two and a half hours of police helicopter ($550 per hr), plus 7-9 overtime officers.

Yeah, OK, send me the bill. You got my address and number. But, seriously, if you don't hear from me that just means I didn't call. I'm not ignoring you.

My lawyer says, "Not to worry." So, I don't.

By all means, go experience any natural wilderness that might still exist, for as long as you can. When it's gone, it's gone forever.

Just don't be too surprised, if they find you're not a bear, you might get more than you expected.

Now bogus bills can be ignored, of course. But, if you're not, like the Scouts say, 'fully prepared' when you're in a wilderness area, your pride could get a little damp. (Soaked, even.) Happy paddling.


Sub-X is a survivor of the radical '60s. These days he's attempting to get beyond the 'Them' and 'Us' duality of Conflict Consciousness. Trying to eliminate conflict from one's reality is a lot like dealing with alcohol. It's an on-going process. Currently, Sub-X seeks solutions and asks, "Why not more beauty, love, and joy?" We know we can do so much better. OK, so why not?