Back in the early 1990s when I lived in Jackson, I rode up into the continental divide country in June.
It turned out to be cold and wet and muddy - - pretty brutal. And I was solo.
I did all of the things to set up camp right, glad I did.
At 3 a.m. I heard deep grunting sounds and something very large circling my tent.
Needless to say, I was wide awake, but really, what can you do?
The next morning there were dinner-plate sized tracks in the wet dirt.
And those telltale four claw marks above them.

Yes, I know, solo camping high up in grizzly country isn't advised.