Page 51 of Double Exposure

Slowly, I gently pick the camera up from around my neck and look through the viewfinder, widening the aperture as much as I can. Keeping the pen light tip towards the ceiling and against the stone wall, there's enough light for the aperture. I should be able to catch some good shots and then edit the series. Playing around with light, contrast and saturation may not be enough to get the true colors but it will be awfully close.

My heart pounds so hard, I'm afraid I won't be able to hold the camera still enough. I scan the cave through the viewfinder. That's when I see two pairs of bright little eyes peeking over the belly of the blonde bear.

The unmistakable sounds of suckling, kneading fur, and contented sighing quietly begin to fill the cave. The blonde bear, shudders and stretches, raising her massive head and curls around to lick one of her babies. This is a family group, or part of a family. She’s definitely mother to these two and perhaps some others are offspring from past years.

I slowly take my finger and depress the shutter. The soft metallic click seems way too loud in this tiny space.

The suckling stops. I hold my breath and keep the camera pressed to my face. Be the furniture.

The mother lifts her head. With a grunt, she moves and pushes herself up on one elbow, swinging her head around peering, blinking. Two of the other bears stir. One opens its mouth in a massive yawn. Despite myself, I keep depressing the shutter release. Any ounce of self-protection I might have had has evaporated.

I shoot again, aiming for the darkest corners. But I forget to turn off the flash.

It’s like silent lightening has struck.

A bear from the far end, startles, half rises, opens its mouth and screams.

There is no other way to describe it.

I hold completely still, my ears ringing a good twenty seconds after she finishes. My finger is on the shutter ready to compress again, silently, just waiting. I so want to make this happen.

The blonde mother groans. She's not happy, and the one bear in the far back is up on all fours now, her head swinging low as she forcefully blows air from her snout. The other bears begin to stir. Another mother nudges her two cubs to the center of the cave.

I keep taking photos as the group rouses, shuffling and smelling each other.

They can certainly smell me in this closed environment. It may be time to go. I stretch out my right leg while slowly unfurling my left. Rather than bolting, I need to move slowly, very methodically just as before. I lower myself to the ground and prepare my exit.

I turn and inch my way out, shuffling backward, looking over my shoulder as I approach the “S” curve. I reach the small ledge, the waist high one. This means I'm going to have to move equipment over my shoulder very carefully so it doesn't scrape against the sides of the cave.

Now, all I hear is the pounding of my own heart. Everything is quiet.

That's when the camera decides to swing from my neck and strike the side of the cave.

The sound of shifting weight, heavy weight, moving struggling, comes up through the depths of the cave. Then another sound comes from behind. I don’t dare turn around.

I stare into the blackness of the cave and I can't see a thing, but any moment this small tunnel could be filled with a very angry mother.

And she would have every right to be pissed.

“Don’t turn around.” Carter’s voice is in my ear. “I’ve got you. Back up three inches.”

I do and then his arm reaches around and grabs me by the waist. I hold the equipment out in front of me so it's not swinging from side to side. As I tuck my feet, Carter lifts me up and over the shelf of rock as if we’ve rehearsed this move a thousand times. He sets me back down.

“Back out slowly.” Gripping both of my shoulders, he helps guide me the rest of the way out of the cave. With the light to our backs, it’s hard to see. As soon as we step free from the cave, he pulls me to the side so I'm out of view and we both squat for a moment. The happy purring sounds of cubs nursing is rhythmic, like a motor.

Mouthing “Oh my God,” I follow up with a whisper: “I got some great shots.”

He puts a finger to his lips and motions for me to move. I follow him away from the cave, though he’s got a firm grip on my upper arm. His jaw is set. I try to follow him through fresh footprints where snow is compacted, but it’s rough going with him sort of dragging me along.

“Slow down,” I say when we’re a good twenty yards from the cave entrance.

I still haven't really seen his face. I can just feel his hands on my body guiding me forward.

“What’s wrong?” I say. “Slow down, I want to get them coming out.”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I just pulled you from a fucking bear cave! And no, you’re done.”

I twist from his grip. “I am here on a job. I was fine in there.”