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Jack yawned, then moved his neck stiffly. His hand hit a blue and white Coleman cooler as he tried to stretch. "Are we there yet, Mom?"

"Almost. Dad just stopped to fill the tank, so we won't have to worry about it tomorrow if we want to drive anywhere."

The boy looked around at his crammed quarters. In addition to the cooler, he shared the back seat with two tents, several large duffel bags, fishing poles, and a large Golden Retriever. "I hope we don't have to go anywhere in the car, we've been in it for days. Rascal and I want to do some exploring!"

Mom sighed. "We've been exploring. None of us have ever seen this part of the country before, Jack."

"You know what I mean, Mom... I want to get out and look around."

Dad poked his head in the window. "Well, you'll get your chance soon. Owl Lake Campground is just a few minutes away."

Jack sat up straight, his stiffness forgotten. "I can't believe it! I finally get to see where Great Grandpa Matt  homesteaded. I hope we'll see a bear."

Mom smiled tightly, and wiped her hands on her bluejeans. "We might, but I hope we don't see any bears up close."

"Oh, don't worry. Rascal and I will protect you. Just like Great Grandpa Matt protected the wagon train that went right over Owl Mountain."

Dad opened the door. "Jack's right, there's nothing to worry about. Now who wants roasted hot dogs for supper?"

Laughing at the chorus of barks and shouts, Dad pulled out onto the gravel road. 

Soon a large wooden sign came into view. The hand painted owl-shaped lake announced that they had finally arrived at their destination.

Dad selected a spot with a clear view of the lake. "It's going to be dark sooner than you think, so let's get the tents up before we do anything else."

Mom looked around at the tall pine trees, then at the two tents. "Maybe we should just sleep in the car again tonight?"

"There's plenty of light to get set up. I was just saying that we need to get this done before we look around or anything."

Soon Jack's tent was set up near his parents' larger one, then the family strolled the short distance to the lake.

"It really does look like an owl in flight," said Mom.

"Rascal, what are you doing?!?!" shouted Jack, as the big dog eagerly pulled him towards the water.

Dad rushed over, and unsnapped the leash. "Rascal is a water dog, Jack. He saw the water and forgot his manners. Give him a few minutes to swim, then he'll be fine."

"He's never done that before," panted Jack. He looked away from the lake, towards Owl Mountain. "I want to see the lake from the top of the mountain, when it turns red at sunset. Like in Great Grandpa's journal."

Dad frowned. "We can climb to the top. But we can't be up there at sunset, Jack. Then we'd be coming back in the dark."

"Can't we take some of the gear, and spend the night?" he asked.

Dad looked back towards their summer camping gear. "It's too cold up there at night. And we'd be too far from other people. No, we need to start climbing early in the morning, then we can be back here before it gets dark."

Jack sighed. "How did Great Grandpa manage?"

"According to his journal, he built a quick lean-to and put a small homemade wood stove in. It was made from a pilot bread can. He also had all of his supplies, including winter clothes. He had to have heat, and it was summer!"

"It's like eighty degrees right now, and it was a lot hotter earlier. Maybe he just came during a cool summer?"

"I don't think so. The temperature is much different up there, in any season."

The family started out just before sunrise, with backpacks stuffed to the brim. Lunches, trail snacks, emergency kits, and other essential yet lightweight items were packed in Jack and Mom's packs. 

Dad hefted a slightly heavier pack. It contained the three lightweight sleeping bags and a flare gun, in addition to his gear.

Mom looked at him, and frowned. "Are the sleeping bags really necessary, Don? You said yourself that we can't stay up there overnight."

He grinned and pointed to his bandanna, which was covered in badges. "Don't you know what the Boy Scout motto is, Martha?"

"Oh, very well. It's your back..."

About halfway up, they stopped for a snack.

Jack turned Rascal loose to stretch his legs, and chase the many ground squirrels. "Wow, I can see for miles! This is even better than the top of the Empire State Building."

Once they had rested and eaten, they continued climbing.

A couple of hours later, Dad stopped at a place where the trail forked. One section was both well worn and clearly marked. The other was faint, and there were no signs.

Jack grinned. "The old homestead should be close. I sure wish we could live up here like Great Grandpa did."

They turned off onto the old trail, and were soon looking at a small log cabin. It was built on a rare piece of level ground.

Dad took out his camera, and began to take pictures of everything. "I don't believe it's still here! Well, except for the roof, door, and windows."

Mom bent down at a spot about thirty yards from the cabin. "Look at these poles over here. I think this must have been the lean-to."

Dad gazed out towards hundreds of miles of wilderness. "This place is amazing! If there's time, we can look around a little more on the way down."

They returned to the main trail, and began climbing. Rascal eagerly pulled on his leash, helping Jack to keep up with his parents easily.

In what seemed like no time, the family was at the summit.

Dad's mouth hung open in awe. "It's like being at the top of the world!"

Mom opened her pack, and took out a huge black and red checkered table cloth. "Who's hungry?"

Everyone gathered around, and soon packs were open. After sharing a meal in perhaps the most majestic spot any of them had ever seen, Mom packed up the tablecloth and the garbage.

"Let's get going. If we hurry, maybe we can have another look at the homestead," suggested Dad.

Several minutes into their descent, Rascal stopped. Hackles raised, he growled.

Jack petted him, and looked around. "What's wrong, Rascal?"

Dad quietly took the leash, holding the dog by the collar. Seconds later, a very round black bear ambled up the trail.

It stopped when it noticed them, and sniffed the air.

Dad looked at Mom and said "Don't worry Martha, bears hardly ever bother people."

As if in reply, the fat bear slowly waddled forward.

Rascal tried to charge, and Dad pulled him up onto two legs, and walked backwards with the dog for two paces. 

Then they all heard it, and froze. The sharp crack of a rifle rang off of the mountainside for what seemed like an eternity.

The nearsighted bear looked for the source of the noise, but there was nothing.

Then a man walked out of the brush, seemingly from nowhere. His huge rifle was pointed at a distant spot in front of the bear. 

Another crack rang out, and a puff of dust exploded in front of the confused animal. It turned, and ran down the trail faster than any horse would have been capable of.

"You folks alright?"

Dad stepped forward, hand extended. "Yes. Thanks to you, Sir. That bear was coming right towards us."

The old man accepted the offered hand. Revealing several missing teeth, partially hidden by his bushy beard and mustache, he grinned. "No worries. You're not the first in need of a little help, and I'll wager you won't be the last."

After a brief conversation, the man walked back into the thick brush.

Mom took the lead. "Let's get back to camp, before anything else happens."

Nobody said anything, they simply followed her. She marched steadily and tirelessly, not stopping once.

Several days later, Dad stopped loading the car for a last look at their temporary home. "I hope you two had as much fun as I did."

"I'll never forget it," Mom assured him.

"I love it here, Dad. Can we come back next summer? Please?!?!"

Once final goodbyes were said, Dad drove towards the hand painted sign. "Let's go to the museum, it's small but has a lot of information on the area."

Mom and Jack eagerly agreed, and soon they were standing inside of a rustic building.

"Dad, come look at this! There's a display for Great Grandpa Matt's homestead."

Dad was looking at a display of antique handsaws. He strolled over.

Mom, who had been admiring a pair of beaded moccasins, joined them.

Mom looked at an old black and white picture before digging for her reading glasses. "Who is this? It looks like the man who chased the bear away."

Before looking at the picture, Jack read it for her. "The plaque says it was Great Grandpa Matt."

Dad looked at the picture, studying the face closely. "That's impossible..." he whispered.

Jack looked, then widened his eyes. "That's him, he even had the same gun and clothes."

Dad rubbed his chin and smiled. "We'll just have to go back next summer, won't we..."

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