I have read and ignored most of the posts in this string but I feel it is time to add a comment.
First off, I started cowboying and wrangling horses for pack strings in the back country of Idaho way back in the late 50s when I was only 11 years old. By the time I was 13 I was doing much of it on my own and I am talking about a 13 year old boy with a riding horse dragging 10 loaded mules and gone for a week at a time. I can't remember the number of times I wished I was home where my mother could take care of me. Every time there was a wreck with that pack string, I had to figure it out and sometimes I was bawling while I was doing it, but I always did it and I never lost an animal or a load.
No one ever said that if a bear comes just talk loud and he will go away or if you run into a 2 legged varmint, talk soft and he will go away. My boss gave me a 4 inch S&W 357 mag and said, "If anyone tries to take your animals, Kill em." He also said a few things about what would happen if I shot myself or anything else I shouldn't. He said that it is easier to shoot a horse with a broken leg than trying to club it to death too. He didn't have to mention bears, I knew what to do. I had some drunk 2 legged varmints come into camp one night and wouldn't take no when I told them they couldn't borrow a horse. They sobered up real fast when I hauled out that 357.
I never had any close encounters with bears back then. I saw lots of them but they were always running away and very shy.
I have been involved with Boy Scouts one way or another for the last 15 years. I have 6 boys and that was where they were so that is where I was. I started having lots of bear encounters while out with the boys and finally got a 44 mag. The 357 didn't feel big enough anymore. A couple of years ago I got inbetween a sow and her cub. I was on a horse and my partner was on a horse and we had 15 boy scouts comming down the trail behind us about a mile.
We jumped her and the cub out of the bottom of the crick bed and the cub went to the left aroung the hill land she went streight up. She stopped up there and said that she knew that we had her cub. We said we didn't but she didn't believe us and started popping her teeth and and swinging her head. My pard got off his horse and shot close to her with his 357, 5 times. At each shot she went a little higher up the mountain a little farther but not too much. After the fifth shot she decided she'd had enough and came barreling down the hill right at us. She was taking 20 feet to the jump. I hauled out my 44 and put one shot right in front of her and there was so much dust we couldn't even see her. When the dust cleared she was running up the mountain as fast as she could go and didn't stop until she went over the top.
I guess what all this is trying to say is:
When you go into the wilderness, take a gun.
If you are going to carry a gun, carry one big enough to do the job.
Guns are good tools to get you out of tight spots with bears and maybe even 2 legged jerks.
Sixgun