Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Hungry Hill

October 16th, 2011

He continued his rummaging in the bins, pausing occasionally to pull out the odd plastic bottle. Tossing it into the back of a smart pick-up. His wife looked on. I sat a short distance away, sipping tepid coffee from my small flask. She looked embarrassed.

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I’d pulled into a small rest area close to the summit of Hungry Hill. Close on three thousand feet. Not especially steep, but drawn out over quite a few miles. Signs at the bottom explaining how to fit snow chains, not that they were needed today. Another sunny autumnal day.

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The rummagers moved off to other bins on the other side of the highway. I wandered over to the nearby "Hungry Hill Grizzlies" sign. Tales of a dangerous Grizzly christened The Phantom. Which seemed apt, since, as ever, there was a single bear to be seen. Not that I was in a hurry to stow my deterrent spray.

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