Went up to Idaho for a week to hunt bears. It rained non stop the first five days but I had the whole drainage to myself. The night 5 I shot a bear at about a hundred yards and fell itback and it ran straight down into the drainage through steep nasty woods. Found the blood trail a hundred yards down the hill and followed about 200 yards until it stopped just short of the trail above the creek at the bottom. Spent the rest of the trip side hilling circles around the end of the trail n tripping over branches n cussing. At one point I stopped to rest on a log on the hill above a drop off and a fat ol bear started waddling up over the edge 10 yards to my right with a few skinny pines between us. I barely had time to react when he winded me and turned around like he caught me on the toilet. I saw him sprinting down the trail by the creek through a gap in the trees. I never found my bear. Most of the was spent wet n shivering and bored out of my mind, but the last two days were full of exciting ups and downs. Needed the time alone to recharge my batteries n focus on one thing. That fat ol bear will haunt me though. He was easily 300 lbs.