It is huckleberry season and the best berries are along forest openings at elevations 4000ft and above. Hugh’s Meadow is one such place.  Off we go hoping to find ripe huckleberries and bears that are enjoying them.  Pavement turns to graded gravel to not-so-graded gravel.  The sign says 7 more miles. Kent is maneuvering through pot holes now.  Just three more miles to go; the road splits with no marking sign.  We take the right turn – the left is a mud hole too deep to be sure we can pass.  We are wallowing through pot holes and dodging oil pan scaring rocks.  It is a two track now with grass ever taller between the tires.  We are one narrow lane notched into the mountainside switch-backing our way ever higher.  We pass the promised distance.  Mountain vistas are beautiful but we come to agree that the likelihood of finding any meadow up here seems highly remote. Kent pulls off a slick u-turn and we head back down.  He is dodging and weaving and picking his way through and it starts to rain.

The short story: no meadow, no bears.