In 1992 , my husband Werner and I decided to explore the American and Canadian west coast. We bought a camper-van and travelled from San Francisco to Alaska and back to Los Angeles in five months. In the first weeks up to Alaska we had already had some great, adventurous experiences. Now let me tell you about the scariest experience we gained and why I'm happy that even bears are sometimes quite "shy."

We were heading south, but were still pretty far up in the Canadian north, in Yukon. If we had known before, in what bad shape this highway was, I guess we would have driven back on the Alaska highway. But then, I wouldn't be able to tell this story and we never would have had some unforgettable experiences!

One of our destinations was a wonderful lake in Yukon named Frances Lake that was located between Carmacks and Watson Lake. From Carmacks to Frances Lake we had a hard drive through huge construction works and muddy roads. One main problem we encountered was that the road was nearly too muddy to drive. No wonder, a motorcyclist we met on the road gave us a good advice: "Drive slow, but DON'T STOP. Otherwise you could get stuck." The look on the faces of the construction workers told us that there was not much traffic on that road--slushy and under construction as it was, wiser people tended to stay away. We came across very few cars and trucks, around 3 or 4 a day.

After approximately 250 miles of a shaking and strenuous drive, we were looking forward to a quiet rest in the campground at Frances Lake. We finally arrived and discovered that there was only a Canadian couple who were camped there. Except for them and us the place was desolate and devoid of life, if you did not count the native wild habitants. But the good side of it was that we even had a vantage campsite at the lakeside with a wonderful view on the lake. We enjoyed the afternoon at the beach, observed wild animals and savored fresh and crisp air along with the beautiful landscape. When it became dark, we sat at the campfire and talked untill late in the night. It was a wonderful, peaceful atmosphere.

The next day was a Sunday. It started with a good breakfast and a hot espresso. After breakfast, Werner went to the restroom, a small building about 150 feet away. Suddenly our Canadian neighbours came to me. They were visibly excited! They told me that they have seen a bear on the campground. I got a fright. I immediately thought about Werner and hoped he had seen the bear and had gone in a different direction than the bear. The Canadian woman showed me where they've seen the bear the last time. Oh no, it was exactly the direction Werner had gone. The couple and I walked cautiously and quietly toward the restroom building. Then I called out as loud as I could: "Werner, stay in the building, a bear is out there!" Unfortunately my voice was not loud enough and he came out of the building right at that moment. He closed the door behind himself and then noticed the bear.... and the bear noticed him! The bear went on his hind legs and roared with his claws flying in the air, a very impressing stance. It was only around 60 feet away from my husband, not a big distance for such a big animal! After some seconds, but seemed like an eternity, of checking the situation, the bear decided that he had more interesting things to do than getting into a Sunday combat with a swiss guy. It came down from its towering display and walked away from us and we never saw him again

Those seconds were some of the longest in my life, no doubt! It was one of the most exciting moments too and we will never forget it! Anyway, this adventure was enough for me. I don't want to be so close to a wild animal again. The bear could have attacke us. We just were lucky.