Stories of bears getting hit by automobiles aren't that uncommon in the Sierra Nevada. In fact, it happened 28 times last year in Yosemite National Park alone.

But stories of bears getting hit by someone on a bicycle? Those are practically unheard of.

Practically. Until Jon Woodard came along.

The 61-year-old from Agua Dulce was riding his bike at about 25 mph along Dinkey Creek Road about 4 miles from Shaver Lake on the morning of July 5 when the unthinkable happened.

"I saw something brown out of the side of my eye, and it was over," Woodard says. "I remember a loud noise, then going over the handlebars."

That "something brown" turned out to be a 300-pound bear that picked the wrong time to cross the road.

Woodard, who was clipped into the pedals, landed hard on his back and put a dent in his helmet. The bear? It just kept moving and disappeared into the forest.

Driving behind Woodard at that fateful moment was the Sternberg family of Rancho Cucamonga and they witnessed the unlikely collision.

"The bear just froze," Brooks Sternberg says. "I think [it] was just as shocked as Jon."

The Sternbergs and other passers-by stopped to help Woodard and collect pieces of his broken bicycle, which were strewn everywhere. The carbon frame was snapped clean in two places.

Woodard got a ride from the Sternbergs back to Camp Edison, where his family makes annual visits. A week later, he reports bumps, bruises and road rash all over his body but fortunately nothing more serious.

He knows it could've been a lot worse. For both him and the bear.

"I'm very, very lucky but also very unlucky," Woodard says. "I doubt anyone up here has ever hit a bear on a bike -- or been hit by one."

'Saving' Half Dome

Mason Harrison is like a lot of frustrated hikers unable to get a permit to climb Half Dome this summer.

But Harrison is doing something about it. The 25-year-old Sonora native founded SaveHalfDome.com, a group calling for the National Park Service to end its restrictive quotas on the Yosemite landmark.

The website includes an online petition asking park officials to stop requiring permits to ascend the popular cables route, which hikers use to scramble the final 400 feet to the broad summit. The group is also on Facebook.

Introduced this year, the permit system restricts access to 400 hikers per day, seven days per week. Before the quota system was implemented, an average of 1,200 people per day made the 17-mile trek on weekends.

Intended to ease congestion and increase safety on the cables, the quota system has also made Half Dome permits nearly impossible to get. Many were snatched up by scalpers and sold on the Internet.

One solution Harrison proposes is to install a third cable on the sloping granite face to create "up" and "down" lanes. (Hmm, I've read that somewhere before.)

"Since when did America become a country that limits by 70% the number of people that can explore their national heritage?" Harrison asks.

That's a darn good question.

Camera mystery

On June 29, Michael Sykes of Fallbrook and his son, Mikey, were nearing the end of a four-day backpacking trip in Kings Canyon National Park when they came across a young man in his mid-20s who was walking gingerly.

The young man introduced himself as "Sean," said he was from Fresno and told them that chipmunks had eaten away the soles of his boots one night when he left them outside his tent.

"The guy could barely walk," Sykes says. "He had to cut his trip short because of the pain."

Sykes gave him a ride from the Onion Valley Trailhead to Independence, where "Sean" intended to take a bus back to Fresno. A couple days later, though, Sykes found the guy's camera in between the seats of his Jeep. He has no way of returning it.

Trying to help out, I phoned Sequoia & Kings Canyon public information officer Dana Dierkes to see if a "Sean" or a "Shawn" or even a "Shaun" had taken out a wilderness permit from Roads End during that time frame.

So far, nothing's turned up. But if you know "Sean," have him get in touch so he can be reunited with his camera and photos.