Oregon II
The Cat’s Pajamas - Part 2
“There's a thin line that separates courage from stupidity.” - Unknown
As the sun began its descent, my time became finite again so a thought pops in my head, “how can I make up the distance and time?”
Deep down, my thinking was mainly influenced by my desire to find an alternative route and not return the way I came. The idea of exploring new places as you return to your origin of entry makes sense to me. A ‘loop’ concept over ‘one way in, one way out’ provides a richer experience for someone with my appetite.
However, I don’t want to spend all night wandering the woods for multiple reasons. Mainly not to make a mess as I hurl myself down this mountain. As all great outdoorsmen know, if everyone creates their own trail there would be less for the animals and plants to use, there by less for us to see and enjoy.
For a time, I obeyed the hikers code of “Leave No Trace”. However, I looked at the map and saw how the trail cut back somewhere below me. Not sure how far down, but I would have to run into it eventually. I did not take into account the terrain in my grand scheming. Though the guiding force remained, just another adventure. I left the trail down the mountain side, first through a clearing full of sunlight.
As I blunged into the “unknown”, I quickly realized why the trail was a good idea. The mountainside wasn’t very steep, but it was full of shin high brush with plants thick and rigid. My hike turned into jumping from one dirt patch to the next. Sometimes even walking on branches like a billy goat, hoping it would hold my weight. Just as my fear grew and the thought of turning back started snuggling up to my brain, the ghost of Ralph Waldo Emerson whispered in my ear, “Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
This inner dialogue raged on as I continued to move farther down the mountain. As I went into a dark wooded area so covered it felt cool enough to be a different climate, I came upon a deer trail, a slender line in the earth not much wider than my foot. My first inclination, as a strolled down this backwoods highway, was “there’s no way these deer are walking anywhere crazy, right?” Just as this thought brought me comfort, my next thought brought chilling terror.
“What creature tends to hang around deer trails in the mountainous forests of the Pacific Northwest with the purpose to kill and eat deer?”
The answer was quick and blood curling, the mountain lion. A hundred and fifty to two hundred pound cat with ghost like movements, claws measured in inches, and teeth-sharpened by years of pulling flesh from bone, hide from muscle, throat from n…I think you get it.
In all my time in the Western United States, I have heard many mountain lion sightings and desired for one myself. Yet at this moment, I am questioning this desire. And my grand “quest” for adventure became less glamorous.
I began to process through these fears, questioning the reality of them so they don’t turn into panic. Once again, I step out of the light of a clearing and into the dark covering of the forest. Not long after, I see out of the corner of my eye, a color that stands out in the forest. It’s sitting on the ground above my eye-line. It was white as a bottle of unbranded bleach. Relief hits me as I assume its trash from a campsite, to me representing reminisce of humans and close proximity to the trail. But as I stand over this white substance resting on top of the pine straw, my relief disappears into the darkness of the woods and a deep low verbal sound crawls out of my mouth which one might discern as “Oh shit”.
I was standing over two bare hip bones of a baby fawn.
My eyes are up and my head is on a swivel. I am looking for anything sharp or heavy to fight with as I keep moving with little more pace. To restrain myself from panic, I tell myself, “it was just a little snack he had a while ago”, but these cats don’t eat where other predators can smell or take their food. They bring it back to a little thing called a “lion’s den”. You may have heard of the term.
I turn the corner into a small opening inclosed by surrounding trees. My eyes become fixed on a pile of something on the other side of this small inclosure. I move closer and the hair on the back of my neck stands up so stiff I think in effort to not be seen. I peer over the “pile”, and find it to be a pile of deer bones. Jaws, hips, legs, and spines. “Oh shit” was an understatement. I am talking a PILE like dropping a box of toothpicks on the ground PILE, but you know…bigger.
In my efforts to calm myself by saying this is not a big deal, I see amidst the PILE of bones are skulls. My exit went from now to RITE NOW.
Surprisingly, all I could do was laugh. With a smirk on my face and chuckle under my breathe, I kept saying, “I am in the mountain lion’s den.” In hindsight, the millennial in me did think, “I should’ve taken a picture.” But in this moment, my thoughts quickly became singular, “MOVE!”.
I knew I shouldn’t run or scramble like prey would because part of me knew this son of bitch is watching me, and he or she is probably wondering whether or not I am food or a threat. I know have to be close to the trail or possibly just hoping.
Like most of this journey, I popped out of the deep forest, and then there was sun and a clearing of short brush and rocks. So after hundred yards of nervous laughter, brisk hiking, and wondering, “am I about to fight for my life?”, I see a rock standing about thirty feet high and easy to climb. I scamper to the top, hoping to see any inking of the trail.
Lo and behold! There she was. Through the trees and over some bushes about forty yards from my perch, I had made it! Well sort of, I still had more than two miles to hike down to my car.
My emotions calmer and happy to have a clear path back to civilization, yet this eery feeling of being watched followed me the rest of the way.
My descent was full of short sprints and continued laughter at what just happened or what could’ve happened, but mainly, sobering thoughts of “what did I just see?”
Finally, I reached my car, consumed the rest of my water, and drove to dinner at a nice little burger spot in town. Each person there enjoying a summer evening with family or friends and fresh beef on a bun, all completely unaware of what I had just experienced. However, I smiled and ate my burger relishing in my lunacy.
