Searching for bears and finding none in Oregon's Three Sisters Wilderness

My very first hunt began by taping a target to a stump 200 yards from the truck.

Through the binoculars, I imagined that the target was a meaty black bear.

JJ French took the first shot and missed. Adjusting the scope, he took another shot that tore right through the paper.

Then it was my turn. I peered through the scope. When the crosshair settled, I pulled the trigger slowly. French said I wanted to surprise myself so my body wouldn't tense up and ruin the shot.

Boom! I surprised myself, indeed. The bullet tore through the target just above French's shot.

Three days later, we parked the truck at the Obsidian Trailhead 20 miles west of Sisters in the Central Cascade Mountains. The trail would take us into an area of the Three Sisters Wilderness famous for its obsidian shard fields, alpine meadows, lava rock deposits, and views of the namesake mountains.

And, hopefully, black bears.

French had seen six black bears during a scouting trip to the area last year. I've always wanted to try hunting, specifically in the backcountry. "The Revenant" was a favorite movie growing up and I adored Steve Rinella's "MeatEater" series in high school.

Hiking miles into the wilderness, tracking down a terrifying beast, and then hauling its meat back to Salem for my wife's pasta sounded like a dream trip.

Did I really think we'd succeed? Not really.

Either way, it was a great excuse to get lost in the woods.

How do you hunt for bear?

Bear hunting begins with finding good habitat, spotting from afar, and then making a move. Bears love fresh wildfire burns and meadows with plenty of food.

The Obsidian Trail area has cliffs with top-down views of these habitats. Blueberry and huckleberry are usually plentiful. Late summer to early fall is good time to hunt bear, as they scour the wilderness to bulk up before winter.

"Generally speaking, bears are more active this time of year as they prepare for hibernation and will be found wherever food resources are plentiful," said Sam Fino, Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife Carnivore and Furbearer coordinator. "While they are in the carnivore family, they are mostly omnivorous feeding on berries, fruits, nuts, acorns, etc."

Bear hunters need a hunting license costing $39 for residents and $193 for nonresidents. A $16.50 fall or spring black bear tag is also required.

Anyone can purchase a fall tag from Aug. 1 to Dec. 31, but hunters must enter a drawing for a specific wilderness unit to get a spring tag from April 1 to May 31.

ODFW regulates bear hunting by tracking average age and population. Bears less than a year old are protected. So are bears with cubs less than a year old.

Oregon's bear population is healthy, money goes into conservation

Oregon's estimated black bear population is about 50,000, Fino said.

"We do not have conservation-related concern," he added.

The state uses the money from black bear tags for conservation efforts, often focused on habitat restoration and management. The Stella Restoration Project , for example, is an effort to restore 43,955 acres of forest near Prospect.

Black bear tags generate millions of dollars. In 2025, more 80,000 black bear fall tags were purchased, amounting to over $1.3 million at $16.50 per tag.

With the activity French witnessed last year, we figured black bear was our best shot and didn't buy any other tags.

Day 1: Obsidian shard fields and lava formations

My pack weighed close to 35 pounds for the trip. French's pack was heavier with the 7 pound 30-06 Ruger on his back. We figured that we could haul extra snacks with our modest 8 mile hike into camp.

As we hit the trail, the hot sun started sapping us of energy. I regretted the extra weight.

French said we'd find plenty of glacial streams after the lava formations about 3 miles in. We were confident about finding water and broke a golden rule of backpacking: never start off without a full bottle.

I started feeling woozy after a few miles, and a passing hiker said the nearest creek was 5 miles away.

We quickly realized that it wasn't the same "milk and honey" land that French raved about last year following a historically light snowpack , shrinking glaciers on the Three Sisters and one of the hottest and driest Octobers on record .

We started to worry about how that might affect our hunt.

We hiked past obsidian fields and lava formations, enjoying views of the Middle Sister. Three hours later, we collapsed beside a small stream. Water has never tasted so good.

With full bottles, we hiked another mile and a half and set up camp beneath a plateau that offered good views of meadows and fresh burns.

I made a steaming bowl of ramen noodles. Red evening light poured over the Middle and South Sisters mountains. The call of three-toed woodpeckers put me right to sleep.

Day 2: Moving camp to Linton Creek

We didn't see a single animal as we glassed hillsides the next morning and decided to move camp 3 miles to Linton Creek. Our dry mouths already begged for water.

French used a downloaded map from onX , a GPS app favored by hunters, to chart our path off trail. If we killed a bear, we'd have to field dress the animal by quartering out the meat into game bags.

Meat from an adult bear can weigh between 70 and 120 pounds. We'd have to hike the meat to the truck and then go back to pack up camp.

As we got farther from the trail, this task seemed more and more exhausting.

We followed a dried stream bed to Linton Creek and crawled over loose shale and scrambled down dry waterfalls. My lips felt like dried Elmer's glue.

Thankfully, French spotted a pool of water, maybe an inch deep, in some dusty crag. We lied on our stomach and sucked the water through our filters. It tasted like grass and iron.

Our energy was totally spent by the time we setup camp next to Linton Creek, snaking through a golden meadow. French glassed the surrounding hillsides. I enjoyed views of the South Sister and Husband mountains while downing cups of hot chocolate.

Day 3: Linton Lake, a mud flat, and roadtrippers from Paris

We hadn't seen an animal in two days and woke up discouraged. We also realized that the berry bushes French saw last year were completely barren.

"There was poor mast production and drought, likely influencing (bear) distribution on the landscape," Fino said. "Regardless, harvest success rate is low, averaging between 5% to 10% year to year, so not seeing any bears is fairly common."

We decided to hike back to the truck early, choosing a 4 mile shortcut, with 4,000 feet of elevation loss, to Linton Lake instead of the 8 mile trail.

This did not prove to be a good decision.

We tripped, scrambled, and rolled our way down the mountain. Linton Falls, one of the state's tallest waterfalls , cascaded down the mountain beside us.

A huge chunk of my foam cell sleeping back ripped off. Bruises riddled my legs. Red scratches covered my arms.

We made it to the lake and thought that was the end of it. Turns out, Linton Lake partially dries up late in the summer and turns into a mud flat, and we decided to try the flats instead of taking the trail around the lake.

Wrong choice. Again. By the time we reached the other side, I could barely walk from slogging waste deep through mud. We smelled like fresh tilapia.

Once we neared the road, I stuck a thumb out. Two guys from Paris, roadtripping the U.S., picked us up in a rented GMC truck.

"You were bear hunting? That's amazing!" one of them said.

No, we said. It really wasn't.

Was the trip a total failure?

After the trip, we verified our suspicion that black bears were at lower elevations because of the mountain berry shortage.

We didn't have to hike 16 miles, crawl down dried waterfalls, and hike through burned forests to find them; the bears were on our doorstep the whole time.

Was the trip a total failure? Yes. At the same time, I suppose a new hunter shouldn't expect success on his first trip.

The experience did teach us some invaluable lessons: pack light, even if you think the hike will be easy. Avoid hiking through burned forests at all costs. Favor the trail, even if it means adding extra miles.

And always, always, bring extra water. You won't regret it.

This article originally appeared on Salem Statesman Journal: Searching for bears and finding none in Oregon's Three Sisters Wilderness