I can remember the exact spot.
We were hiking the Boulevard Trail in the Great Smoky Mountains on one of those perfect September mornings that makes you wonder why anyone stays indoors. The sky was impossibly blue, the air carried that first hint of fall, and every breath felt like it had been filtered through the forest itself.
The park rangers had warned us before we started out.
“The bears are up high,” one of them said. “The berries are ripe.”
Good enough for me. I like bears, and I’d just as soon let them enjoy breakfast without my company. Then I rounded a bend.
The trail disappeared into shoulder-high berry bushes, and there it was — a steaming, unmistakable sign that breakfast had only recently been interrupted.
I’ve spent enough time outdoors to recognize animal sign, but this wasn’t exactly advanced woodsmanship. Even the greenest first-time hiker would have known a bear had been standing right there only moments before. This realization immediately led to another.
I was carrying a handgun for exactly this sort of situation...but not the kind that would help me if the next thing I saw was 300 pounds of irritated black bear emerging from the berry patch.
Wrong Choice
At the time, I thought I had engineered the perfect concealed-carry solution. My little AMT .380 Backup rode inside the water-bottle carrier on my backpack’s hip belt. I’d cut and arranged foam blocks to secure a nylon holster inside the pouch. It concealed the pistol completely, protected it from the weather, and drew surprisingly fast.
For dealing with a homicidal backcountry manic, it was actually a pretty clever setup. For dealing with a bear that might materialize five yards away...
I distinctly remember wondering whether I should open a possible encounter with the pistol or the stout sassafras walking stick I habitually carried in those days. It wasn’t a comforting choice.
It wasn’t that I suddenly believed I needed to shoot a bear. In fact, the overwhelming majority of black bear encounters end with everybody walking away. The point driven home was much simpler: if I’m going to carry a firearm for emergency use, it ought to be immediately accessible AND reasonably matched to the threat.
That hike permanently changed the way I carry a handgun outdoors.
A Surprise
Not long afterward, my friend Ken Campbell handed me a Hill People Gear Kit Bag as a gift. The first time I strapped it on, I wasn’t convinced. It felt different. Maybe even a little awkward. But, by the end of the first hike, I wondered why I’d waited so long.
Today I own several chest packs, and I freely admit I’ve become something of an evangelist for them. They keep the gun accessible, distribute the weight well, work with a backpack, and don’t advertise what’s inside to every person I meet on the trail.
When I’m hiking in black bear country these days, I can comfortably carry a full-size 10mm pistol, and nobody gives it a second look.
Well...almost nobody. There’s always someone on the internet ready to explain that anything smaller than a .454 Casull is an invitation to become woodland cuisine. I’ve learned to smile and keep hiking.
Lessons
The funny thing is, none of this started because I was shopping for a better holster. It started because I almost stepped into fresh bear sign on a quiet September morning in the Smokies, and suddenly realized my carefully engineered carry system solved the wrong problem.
Sometimes the woods have a way of giving us exactly the lesson we need.
And if you’re curious about the chest packs I’ve come to rely on over the years—including why I think they’ve become one of the best options for concealed carry outdoors—you can read the full story over at GUNS Magazine.
The bear, thankfully, never did make an appearance.
Hill People Gear chest packs are awesome! I use one for exactly the same reason. Great quality. Comfy. Exactly the right size. Highly recommend.