COEUR d’ALENE — The west side of Canfield Mountain was quiet this past Monday. Quiet enough to hear just about anything.  

As I trekked up the Dog Memorial Trail, I couldn’t help but stop once in a while to embrace the wholly natural ambiance. There was no white noise of ever-passing cars — which was a welcome surprise, as Canfield Mountain isn’t exactly remote. Chipmunks screamed at me a few times in the trees overhead. Fall was making its first appearances in the colors of the underbrush.  

Then — and so close to the top of West Canfield Butte, too — the fragile quiet was shattered by the sound of a few snapping branches in the underbrush. And just like that, quiet takes on an entirely different shape.  

The underbrush was too dense in the valley below the trail to see from where (or what) exactly the noise was coming from but fear quickly generated all sorts of guesses.  

I retreated in the direction I came, and quite literally stood at a fork in the trail as I decided my next move. Moments later, a mountain biker zipped down the section of trail I had just fled — certainly that was the source of the sound! 

I moved back through the section of trail along the valley, my confidence restored for a fleeting moment.  

Farther up the trail than I had gotten the first time, I heard it again. Something was definitely moving in the underbrush, large enough to disturb birds and snap branches with its weight.  

As a solo hiker that has yet to purchase bear mace — yeah, it was time to turn around.  

Did I overreact? Could I have finished my hike completely unscathed? Probably — after all, I didn’t actually see anything.  

Still, the whole experience left me spooked and wondering if I should be solo hiking at all. I often bring my dog, Willow, along, but a golden retriever doesn’t exactly measure up against a cougar or a bear.  

But just about everything we do carries inherent risks — knowing how to meet them, rather than avoiding risk entirely, is how we get almost anywhere in life.  

When I hike, my family always knows exactly where I’m going — my location is even shared from my phone. I recruit a hiking buddy if I’m going anywhere that could be considered “remote.” I bring plenty of water for myself and Willow if she’s with me. I go out well before the sun even begins to set.  

Yes, I need to buy bear mace — and if you’re interested in solo hiking, you should too. But taking the calculated risks involved in solo hiking are well worth the joy and peace that can be found outdoors, if you’re like me. Just go prepared and listen to your instincts — and for sounds in the surrounding brush.