Mission Accomplished!
*** continued from previous post ***
By this time the bear, having no desire to model, had made it over to the opposite side of the road and the base of the gravel bank. She paused there, clearly weighing the pros and cons of snacking. A moving bear is one thing. A stationary bear, and especially one that was having trouble making a decision, was quite another. I eased off the clutch and moved us the 15 feet to the edge of the blacktop.
"Let's go!"
"Okay, okay. Just give me a minute. . ."
The gravel road ran next to a swale. So, from our position we had about 30 feet of gravel in front of us, the width of the road, then a steep drop 12 feet into dense trees and brush. I give you this image so that you'll understand what follows.
As I began to move us away from the insanity, suddenly a hiker popped up the bank and onto the gravel shoulder. When I say 'popped' I mean it. Like he had been standing on a trampoline and took a mighty jump, vaulting himself out of the ether.
This kid couldn't have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three at the most. His eyes were wide - I mean really wide - manhole cover wide - and his hair was matted from sweat making little ringlets on his forehead. One boot was untied and there was mud on his knees and what looked like a nasty bruise blooming on his forearm. He stumbled a few feet onto the road, and then - POP POP POP! Three more hikers followed. Another guy and two girls of about the same age, each one looking like they just crawled off the worst amusement park ride EVER.
"Oh!" I said, because that was the first thing that crawled from my throat. "Y hallo thar."
Some people reach for the bottle in times of crisis. Some to the bible. Me, I'll take a Meme or a LOL cat any day.
The youthful quartet huddled on the edge of the road for a minute, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. The leader - at least I assume he was the leader for he was the first one to scramble up the bank - walked a few paces towards me with a look of utter confusion on his face. Shell-shocked in fact. I couldn't blame him. I mean really, think how it must have looked to them. They come out of the woods in the middle of God-knows-where to be greeted by two people on a spaceship like motorcycle with a tangled mess of tourists behind them. And behind that an agitated lump of muscle, teeth, and claw.
I made eye contact with the leader. He stared at me. I stared at him. He sized up me. I sized up him.
"Bear!" he breathed. His voice was barley a whisper, his breath flowing in delicate little wisps of mist.
"I know!" I pointed over my shoulder, "She just came over the hill and. . . "
One of the girls stumbled over and joined him at his side. "Bear," she said. Although it came out as something between a question and a statement.
"Yeah," I said, "that's why were just about to. . . "
The other couple joined them. Suddenly I recognized the look in their eyes. This was the exact expression that teenage camp counselors wear right before the maniac with the knife ruins their day. If I heard ominous music then I would know we were truly screwed.
The group now milled about the middle of the road, clearly confused as to which direction to make their escape.
"BEAR!" the guy said.
What the hell? Was this a group for monosyllabic hikers? Possibly some support group exercise or wilderness vocabulary training?
"I KNOW!" I said, and again pointed to the bear behind us that had now ambled halfway up the hillside where she paused to inspect a small bush.
"What?" the leader said, confused.
Ah. I must use their language, their syntax to communicate. "BEAR!" I said, craning in my seat and pointing to said grizzly.
The boy shook his head as if shedding a dream. He looked to me, then to the bear, then back to me without a lot of comprehension cluttering his face.
"No," the boy said, "Bear. THERE!" He pointed back over his shoulder to the woods where they had emerged.
Now it was my turn for confusion. "You saw a bear on the trail?"
"Bear." The leader repeated. "Following us." He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder.
In a flash it became clear. We were being rounded up, herded if you will. The grizzles were the cowboys and we were naught but terrified sheep thundering dumbstruck through the woods. I'm pretty sure branding wasn't on their minds as we were now effectively the meat in a grizzly sandwich.
A thought drifted into my head. This might be the time to make our exit, stage left. Then another thought filled my head: right then I realized my quest had been fulfilled. A warm glow of satisfaction washed over me from head to toe. I had seen the mighty Ursas arctos horribillus in all its glory. Mission accomplished. I didn't need to see any more.
Buy The Book At Amazon! $19.95
Kindle Version $ 4.99
Nook $4.99
*** the journey continues ***
By this time the bear, having no desire to model, had made it over to the opposite side of the road and the base of the gravel bank. She paused there, clearly weighing the pros and cons of snacking. A moving bear is one thing. A stationary bear, and especially one that was having trouble making a decision, was quite another. I eased off the clutch and moved us the 15 feet to the edge of the blacktop.
"Let's go!"
"Okay, okay. Just give me a minute. . ."
The gravel road ran next to a swale. So, from our position we had about 30 feet of gravel in front of us, the width of the road, then a steep drop 12 feet into dense trees and brush. I give you this image so that you'll understand what follows.
As I began to move us away from the insanity, suddenly a hiker popped up the bank and onto the gravel shoulder. When I say 'popped' I mean it. Like he had been standing on a trampoline and took a mighty jump, vaulting himself out of the ether.
This kid couldn't have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three at the most. His eyes were wide - I mean really wide - manhole cover wide - and his hair was matted from sweat making little ringlets on his forehead. One boot was untied and there was mud on his knees and what looked like a nasty bruise blooming on his forearm. He stumbled a few feet onto the road, and then - POP POP POP! Three more hikers followed. Another guy and two girls of about the same age, each one looking like they just crawled off the worst amusement park ride EVER.
"Oh!" I said, because that was the first thing that crawled from my throat. "Y hallo thar."
Some people reach for the bottle in times of crisis. Some to the bible. Me, I'll take a Meme or a LOL cat any day.
The youthful quartet huddled on the edge of the road for a minute, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. The leader - at least I assume he was the leader for he was the first one to scramble up the bank - walked a few paces towards me with a look of utter confusion on his face. Shell-shocked in fact. I couldn't blame him. I mean really, think how it must have looked to them. They come out of the woods in the middle of God-knows-where to be greeted by two people on a spaceship like motorcycle with a tangled mess of tourists behind them. And behind that an agitated lump of muscle, teeth, and claw.
I made eye contact with the leader. He stared at me. I stared at him. He sized up me. I sized up him.
"Bear!" he breathed. His voice was barley a whisper, his breath flowing in delicate little wisps of mist.
"I know!" I pointed over my shoulder, "She just came over the hill and. . . "
One of the girls stumbled over and joined him at his side. "Bear," she said. Although it came out as something between a question and a statement.
"Yeah," I said, "that's why were just about to. . . "
The other couple joined them. Suddenly I recognized the look in their eyes. This was the exact expression that teenage camp counselors wear right before the maniac with the knife ruins their day. If I heard ominous music then I would know we were truly screwed.
The group now milled about the middle of the road, clearly confused as to which direction to make their escape.
"BEAR!" the guy said.
What the hell? Was this a group for monosyllabic hikers? Possibly some support group exercise or wilderness vocabulary training?
"I KNOW!" I said, and again pointed to the bear behind us that had now ambled halfway up the hillside where she paused to inspect a small bush.
"What?" the leader said, confused.
Ah. I must use their language, their syntax to communicate. "BEAR!" I said, craning in my seat and pointing to said grizzly.
The boy shook his head as if shedding a dream. He looked to me, then to the bear, then back to me without a lot of comprehension cluttering his face.
"No," the boy said, "Bear. THERE!" He pointed back over his shoulder to the woods where they had emerged.
Now it was my turn for confusion. "You saw a bear on the trail?"
"Bear." The leader repeated. "Following us." He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder.
In a flash it became clear. We were being rounded up, herded if you will. The grizzles were the cowboys and we were naught but terrified sheep thundering dumbstruck through the woods. I'm pretty sure branding wasn't on their minds as we were now effectively the meat in a grizzly sandwich.
A thought drifted into my head. This might be the time to make our exit, stage left. Then another thought filled my head: right then I realized my quest had been fulfilled. A warm glow of satisfaction washed over me from head to toe. I had seen the mighty Ursas arctos horribillus in all its glory. Mission accomplished. I didn't need to see any more.
Buy The Book At Amazon! $19.95
Kindle Version $ 4.99
Nook $4.99
*** the journey continues ***
Labels: bear, death, Grizzly, hikers, LOL Cats, memes, motorcycle, Victory Vision
posted by David M at
9:44 AM
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Keep it nice or I release the Zombies.
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