The Final Pages
*** continued from previous post ***
"Were they in serious danger?" Robert asked, "Or are we making too big of a deal out of this?"
Oh Robert, Robert, Robert. I deduct 10 points from your man score. Do not pass GO. Do not have a pleasant ride home. Believe me when I say that it can be a long, long ride with a woman kidney-punching you all the way. And yes, I speak from experience.
Julie, and every other woman in the room, glared. Not just glared, but glowered. Not just glowered, but seethed. Sucks to be you Robert. Sucks to be you. Of course Robert, being a man and being married, knew the minute he'd let his question fly that it was a mistake. I smelled jewelry in Julie's future.
"Well," Dale said, "the short answer is yes. Anytime you are anywhere near a grizzly you're in danger. They are wild, unpredictable animals. I've been doing this for a dozen years and they still surprise me." He turned to Robert who now was doing his best to ignore his wife lest she go for his throat. "Did that answer your question?"
"Um. Yeah," Robert said. "Thank you."
"So," I said and watched your mom wilt into the leather of the couch, "let me paint you a picture." I then proceeded to recount our dusky arrival of a few days before, and the bears we'd seen. And the Moose. And, for a brief moment before your mom poked me in the ribs, my theory on Viking cloning.
"Wow," Dale said, "that sounds like quite a story. Where did you say this happened?"
"Right after you pass the lake, or reservoir - whatever it is - on your way up from Carnack."
Dale shook his head and blinked. I wished people would stop doing that. It was beginning to erode my confidence.
"You rode a motorcycle up from Carnack? The one in the parking lot? How did the BMW handle that hill?"
"Umm . . . I have no idea. We were riding the Vic."
Dale looked at me. Stared at me. Then blinked his eyes once, twice, three times. "No shit?"
I looked at your mom. "Well yeah."
"On purpose?" Dale asked.
"Do we really ever do anything 'on purpose' Dale? Is our path, our journey predetermined---"
"Not on purpose," Mom interrupted.
"Right. Not entirely on purpose," I said. "Mostly. But not entirely." I paused here and exchanged a look with your mom. "Okay, accidently then."
With a jerk of her thumb towards me Mom said, "He gets lost. A lot."
Woman! Woman what have you done? Have you no shame? How could you out me like this in front of a group of my peers? Next thing you know you'll be telling them that we listened to the soundtrack from the "Sound of Music" on the way here, and my reputation will be shot. Shot like a dry bean out of a toddler's nose.
"Not a lot," I said. "Just . . . frequently. But you have to admit, that when we get lost we do it spectacularly. With flair!"
Mom choose to ignore this comment.
"Wow. Okay then," Dale said. "Did you see a tag on the bear's ear?"
I wanted to ask him how the hell I was supposed to see that much detail when my vision was occupied with my life flashing before my eyes, but I held my tongue.
"Don't know," I said. "I was kind of preoccupied with not dying."
"I'm just asking because we haven't had a report of a bear in that area in quite awhile. See, we sedate and tag all the problem bears - the REAL problem bears, the ones that the paintball and other techniques don't work on - so we can keep track of them. You didn't see a large, yellow tag on her ear?"
I searched my memory, replaying the incident in my head. I saw a lot of things on that bear. A magnificent rump. A patch of mottled fur. Teeth. Drool. What I'm sure were bits of flannel between her paws but definitely no tag. Possibly an expired Library card caught in her molars.
"Well that's a little worrisome," Dale said. "Keesha and I might have to look into that. How close was she?"
I pointed to the wall behind him. "And she didn't run?"
"Nope. Just kind of took her time walking across the road, then stopped and watched us. I don't know how long. I was trying not to look back, just trying to focus on the road ahead, you know?"
"That's not good. Not good at all," Dale said, furrowing his brow and talking more to himself than the group.
I decided to ignore this. "So anyway, back to my question. The grizzly can run . . . what, about 30 mph?"
"Miles per hour? Yeah, 30 or 35 for short bursts." He paused for a second, then added "That’s right. You guys are from THE STATES."
Why yes, yes we are. Thank you for noticing.
"Yep, we are. Seattle area. Anyway, what should we have done in that situation? I mean, I would have thought that the sound of the bike would have scared her off."
"That's what's so worrisome," Dale said. I could feel your mom tense next to me. "As for what to do. . ." he raised his hands into the air, with a slight grin and a cocked head said, "I guess drive faster than 35 mph?"
Well that was less than helpful. He could have just as easily raised his hands and said 'Die?'. Which, come to think of it, might have been the subtext. As you know subtlety is not one of my strong points.
"I guess from your description she could have had some cubs. I haven't seen any in that area but it's not impossible." He looked around and addressed the group, "You don't under ANY circumstances want to get between a mother grizzly and her cubs. I probably should have said that first."
Like he's telling me? I've been to soccer games. I've bought more Girl Scout cookies than I could ever possibly consume strictly out of fear. You don't have to tell me twice.
Julie, who had been semi-catatonic through this exchange suddenly perked up. She clamped on to Robert's arm. "Do you think the bear WE saw had cubs?"
Dale, if you have an ounce of intelligence in your head, which, from all appearances you do, lie to the woman. Lie and tell her that there were no cubs. Lie like a used-car salesman at the end of the month with a broken-down hatchback and a quota to fill.
"I don't think so," Dale said, and Julie visibly relaxed.
"Oh," Julie said. "Okay then."
Dale turned back to me. "And then the moose blocked the road. That must have been tense."
"Pffffttt," I said. "All in a day’s work for the adventure team. But it got me to thinking. Do you think that the bear and moose were in cahoots? You know, the moose trapped us while her friend the bear made the kill? I'm thinking the bear might cut her in for a share, but aren't moose strict vegans? Maybe the bear had a little dirt on the moose and was blackmailing her." I had addressed this observation to the rest of the group who were now looking at me as if I'd crossed some line. Changing tactics, I spoke directly to Robert, "It happens you know. Thuggery is rampant in these mountains. I blame the kids and their Rap music. Oh, and violent video games."
This elicited a few chuckles and half-hearted smiles. Dale, in his wisdom tried his best to ignore me. "Are there any other questions? I mean," he said looking at me, "any real questions?"
"What about the other bear?" I said.
Dale paused, chewing over what I'd just asked. Should he engage me in further conversation, or should he ignore me completely? "Okay I'll bite, what other bear?"
Ah curiosity. A horrible human foiable.
"Well there were two really. We saw another one this afternoon." I paused, "So I guess that makes three in total. I'll get to that one in a minute. I'm talking about the one Suzanne saw on our way in. It was after we had been cornered by the Moose Mafia, but before we reached the lodge." I turned to your mom, "You take it from here sweetie."
Dale, visibly relieved that he would be addressing the saner half of your parental units, raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Well," Mom said, taking a deep breath, "like David said, it was after the moose. We were riding down the road and I looked up on this hillside. It was gravel and bushes for about 20 feet from the road to the top, then the tree line." She used her hands to show the incline of the bank and how it leveled into the trees at the top. "Something caught my eye, and I looked up the bank and right in front of the trees was a bear." Mom looked around the room to see if people were paying attention. "I watched it follow us for a while along the ridge. It was moving pretty fast, keeping up with us. Pacing us. It kind of popped in and out of the forest."
Dale made a sound much like Lucille Ball used to make, only not as funny. "EEEEeeeeeee!"
"EEEeeee?" Mom asked.
"So was this the same bear that you saw earlier?"
Well there was a thought that sent chills up my spine. I had considered it briefly, but thought I was just being paranoid. If it WERE the same bear, that means that at some time when we were stranded by the moose, Ms. Huge-butt had passed right by and traveled up the road ahead. One word came to mind. Ambush.
"I don't know. I didn't see the one that David saw."
"Can you describe it?"
"Well, it was big. And it was a bear." She shrugged her shoulders. "That's about it. It was the end of a very, very," and here she paused to look at me, "VERY long day. My brain was toast."
Dale looked at me and then shook his head in the affirmative at your mom, indicating he was pretty sure he knew EXACTLY what she meant. "That wasn't good. You don't want a bear following you like that."
"Why not?" Julie asked.
"Because," he said, raising his hands up to his chest in sock-puppet fashion, with the left hand slightly higher, "you know, predator," he said, bouncing his left hand, "and prey," he said, indicating his right. He then opened his left hand to mimic jaws, and clamped it quickly over his right hand, now curled into a fist. For good measure he made chewing sounds. "Arrrghllll bargel nom-nom-nom"
Mom looked at me and her eyes were wide. Wide and glassy.
"Oh," Julie said, and kind of collapsed back on the couch, leaning against Robert. It was then that I realized two things: One, after this trip Robert was never going to get Julie on the back of a motorcycle ever again. Two, Julie would never, ever commune with nature with the possible exception of a zoo or a documentary.
"This brings up a good point. Let's talk about the bear that doesn't run away. The one that isn't afraid or shy, for whatever reason."
Dale then went on to explain what to do if your bear hadn't read the manual. If a bear stops or alters its current behavior, you’re too close and should back away slowly. If a bear comes running towards you, making loud sounds and slapping the ground with its paw, you should back away slowly. (Then change your underwear. Dale didn't say that so it must be a given.) If a bear persistently follows or approaches you, without vocalizing, or paw swatting, change your direction. If the bear still follows, stand your ground. (Sure. And then I'll go slap Chuck Norris in the face and insult his mother.) If the bear gets closer, talk loudly or shout at it. Try to intimidate the bear. If you are with other people act together as a group. (For some reason this brought to mind performing a skit. Like at summer camp. I have no idea why, I'm just reporting what happened.) Make yourselves look as large as possible. (This is why everyone should wear puffy shirts when they hike.) Throw rocks. Whatever you do, don’t run and don't turn away from the bear.”
That last part, I'll have you know, goes against every single instinct I possess.
Hemp-lady looked at me while he said this. I couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, owing to the fact that I had lost interest in her about 10 minutes ago, but if I lip read correctly it was 'umphnd dephanertat'. She must be bilingual.
"One of the best things you can do is hike with a group. You're much safer with a group of people, than you are hiking by yourself or with a partner. Have you guys seen some of the rules posted on the trails around here?"
"You mean the ones that state the trail can't be hiked by less than a party of four, right?" Robert asked.
"Exactly," said Dale. "The incidence of a grizzly attacking a group of 4 or more is almost unheard of. So there really is safety in numbers."
Now this made perfect sense to me. Nobody wants trouble. This is why Mormons travel in packs.
Julie perked up at this, a slight ray of hope shone in her face. "There we go," she said to Robert, "all we have to do is bring my sister Carol and her husband Thomas on our next hike!"
While Robert didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as Julie, he saw that if he wanted to visit anywhere with a tree ever again it would be best to be supportive. Being a man, and a married man at that, I read the smile-plastered-over-a-look-of-seasickness for what it was. There was no way in hell he would ever hike with her sister and brother-in-law, but he was probably going to have to do it anyway. Poor Robert, he was looking at this as a negative. I say take that bitter pill and coat it with enough sugar to get diabetes! If I were in his shoes I would find this a perfect opportunity to feed your Aunts and Uncles to the bears. Not that it would work. Our family is pretty scrappy. We survived the '70s. You don't think that took guts? I have three words for you: Bell-bottoms. Nixon. Disco. They would probably kick the bear's ass. So I would never hike with them, even if I could. I couldn't take the chance of having to listen to THAT story at every Thanksgiving until the day I die. There's only so much aggravation that can be covered up with pumpkin pie and gravy.
Dale began to wrap up his spiel. There was a bit more about bear behavior, but it basically boiled down to this: Take away the food and the bear goes away. Stay safe in the woods and don't go where the bear’s food is. Which was Robert and Julie's mistake because they'd been walking through a berry patch. Julie poked Robert in the ribs when she heard this. Poor, poor Robert. Poor hen-pecked man. What, I wondered, must it feel like to have lost all shred of manhood and dignity at the hands of your wife. I was going to ask him what it felt like when your mom elbowed me in the ribs so I forgot about it pretty fast.
When Dale paused for a minute I jumped into the void. "Wait, we didn't tell you about the third bear. The one we saw this morning."
As you know I'm fairly astute when it comes to reading the body language of other people. I could tell from Dale's stance exactly what he was thinking for I see this posture more than I would like to admit in my day-to-day life. Dale was thinking 'Can someone please make him stop?'
Silly Dale. Silly, silly man.
"Okay," Dale said with what I thought was an inordinate amount of resignation in his voice, "tell me about the third bear."
So as not to bore the rest of the group, and possibly so that I could gloss over some of the more embarrassing moments, I got straight to the point and gave Dale a concise, abbreviated version of this morning events. "We were down by. . . what's the name of that picnic area?" I asked your mom.
"Annaminga," she answered.
"Right. Annaminga. Well we were driving by and saw some cars parked at the entrance to the road. We pulled over and that's when we saw the bear." I continued on with the encounter describing how she came down the hill and how she acted. "But the most amazing part is that when the bear walked behind the car and. . . " here I paused, looking to make sure that our Danish friends were out of earshot. I saw that Leeza had at some point come to stand in the doorway behind us. She picked up on what I was doing and with a quick glance over her shoulder gave me a 'thumbs up' that the coast was clear. "And this couple jumped out and started taking pictures! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen."
"Your kidding, right?" Dale said.
"No. No I'm not," I said shaking my head.
"Well I don't know how to say this any other way but that was stupid."
"You'll never guess who it was," Leeza said with a grin.
Dale rubbed his temples. "You've GOT to be kidding me."
"Nope. Wish I was," Leeza chuckled.
Dale stood there for a bit shaking his head. "Wow. That's just scary."
"I know! I can't believe how casual people are about danger. I guess they are oblivious to the risk they're taking," I said.
Dale stared at me. "You do realize that you're riding a motorcycle in the middle of a fairly good size grizzly population, right? I mean you're riding right out there, not a window or door between you and the world?"
Oh I saw Dale's point. Pot and kettle and all that.
"LOL, I see wut you did thar," I replied in my best meme-speak but I think it was lost on this audience. "But it's different."
"Really? How so?"
"Because. It's me. And it's different for me." I flashed a huge grin around the room. "Oh, I know what it's like for other people, but for me - it's different."
Dale sucked on his front teeth, making a click. "Okay." Only he drew out the 'O' until it became an indictment of my judgement. I thought about getting all pissed for a minute, thought back over the conversation, and decided he was probably right.
Dale then quizzed us as to the size, color, and behavior exhibited by the bear. We talked about the young hikers, and the bear they saw. Man, he was into bears. Really, really into bears. Creepily into bears. We told him what we could, yet no matter how hard we scoured our memories it was still basically big, toothy, bearish.
After we'd exhausted this particular close encounter of the bear kind, Mark looked around the room and said, "Well, I think that about wraps it up. Are there any questions?"
I cleared my throat to speak and Mom pulled me close, rather abruptly I thought, and whispered in my ear one solitary word. A single word that might have only four letters and one syllable, but in actuality contained an encyclopedia of unspoken action.
"Don't."
I would protest that I knew not of what she spoke - but I knew exactly of what she spoke.
"It's okay," I whispered back, "this is a legitimate question."
Mom regarded me warily, but slowly released me from her grip.
"I have a question," I said and watched Dale tense. "You've certainly had your share of personal bear encounters. What was the one that frightened you most?"
Dale looked at me and blinked his eyes a couple of times. "That's actually a good question. I've been in some close spots with the bears but I've never been what I would call 'scared'. Concerned yes. Even pretty darn anxious. But when I'm out on the trails I'm planning ahead, practicing my bear-safe techniques. That's the trick. The best defense against a bear attack is avoiding the situation in the first place. So," he said, looking at me, "the most scared I've been on the job didn't come from a bear. It happened last year right here at the lodge with a cougar."
Oh oh. Crap and jehoobis! Wish I hadn't asked that question. I held out hope that this was going to turn out to be an uncomfortable incident with an older woman with a 'hankerin'' if you know what I mean, but I didn't think so. For one, Dale was way too old to be the plaything of a fading beauty. Plus I don't think that a hiking lodge in the Canadian Rockies is the natural habitat of that particular species of cougar. I think they prowl gyms. And discos. And high school football games. Sometimes cub scout meetings. You get the picture.
Your mom tensed every muscle in her body as well as a few in mine. She gripped my leg just above the knee and although I know she didn't realize what she was doing, dug her nails into my leg quite viciously.
On second thought perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Last year, what . . . was it mid-August? About this time of year?" he asked Leeza.
"Yeah. Just about."
"The lodge called me up and said that they had a cougar hanging around. That is really bad, as I'm sure you know, having a cougar claim your place as part of its territory is just asking for problems. People and cougars don't mix. Sooner or later the there will be a clash. So, we needed to get this cat away from here as quickly as we could. Wasn't as easy as you think. Cats don't stay in any one spot for very long. Every time there was a sighting and they called me, the cat would be long gone by the time I got here."
"It was really frustrating," Leeza added. "I mean, it was incredible to see this huge, beautiful animal, but we realized at the same time, the danger."
"Right," Dale said. "Leeza? Why don't you tell them the next part?"
"Sure." She stepped to the forefront and said, "I don't know if any of you have been around a cougar, but they make some bone-chilling sounds. Especially at night."
Oh yeah. We know that don't we? We've heard a few in the valley behind our house. I don't know which creeps me out worse, the sound of a baby crying in the woods at night or the sound of a woman screaming. Bah! Gives me the willies just thinking about that sound! You can't see it, but the hair on my arms is standing straight up.
"Well one night a bunch of guests and some of the staff were sitting outside enjoying the stars and the quiet." She turned to your mom and me. "Sorry guys. It really doesn't rain all the time. And when it's clear you can't believe how many stars there are in the sky."
"S'okay," I said, "we're from Seattle. We're used to it."
"Maybe you brought it with you," Robert offered.
"Possible. Seattle rain is notoriously needy. It might have gotten lonely and followed us here."
"Anyway," Leeza continued, "we were sitting out there when we heard one of the most disturbing sounds coming at us out of the darkness. And not very far away at all. Just out there in the meadow," she said, pointing through the room and out the dining room windows. "I won't go into details but the cat had caught and was in the process of killing a moose calf. It was horrible and heartbreaking at that same time. And those sounds. . . I don't think I'll ever forget the sounds. The cougar, the calf, and the mom." She turned to Dale. "It cleared the deck pretty fast."
"I'll bet it did."
"We didn't know it was a moose calf until the next morning when we could see in the light. We just knew that the cat had killed something. Blood, hair, the ground was tore up." She shivered. "The calf's body was gone but it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together. Yuck." Leeza here - for lack of a better term - made an ookey face. "That was scary enough, but then the next day we kept seeing the cat. All day long. It would just sit below the deck, or on the hill out back and watch. It wasn't scared and it wouldn't get scared. We tried all kinds of things but it wouldn't go away. It was really creepy. No one wanted to go outside. Well, almost no one," she said, rolling here eyes, "We had to do something, so of course we called Dale."
"And I got up here with about 15 minutes of daylight to spare. I'd been out all day and didn't get my messages until late that afternoon. We busted up here as fast as we could."
"And we appreciate that," Leeza reassured him.
"What I couldn't figure out is why the cat was here. Then when Leeza told me about the calf kill I figured out what was going on, or at least had my suspicions. After I got here it only took me a minute to confirm my fear. See, when a cat makes a kill, it likes to hide its prize from the rest of the world, going back to feed on it at its leisure. That's exactly what this one had done. I took a flashlight out and did a little scouting. Sure enough, right off the deck in back I found a fresh dig. This told me two things: One, the cat had claimed this area as its own - Lodge or no Lodge. Two, it was comfortable enough to bury its kill here. It had absolutely no fear of humans. And that," he said, "is really, really bad."
He paused, and I stole a glance at your Mother. I wish I hadn't. I didn't need visual confirmation. I couldn't feel my leg below the knee. That was enough.
"It was too late to do anything with the cat, but I knew I had to do something," Dale continued. "So about the only thing I could do was get rid of the calf's carcass. Get rid of the cat's food. See?"
"And he came to ask me to help," Bob said, where he sat on the sofa beside his wife.
”I figured that if I was going to go out there I needed someone to hold a flashlight while I dug."
"Yeah," Bob said, "and watch out for the cat." He paused, then added. "It didn't hurt that I had a shotgun."
"No, that didn't hurt at all," Dale said. A small smile crossed his lips. "Also, I didn't want to die alone in the dark." He turned back to the group, "So as you can see, fumbling about in the pitch-black, messing with a cougar's kill --- let's just say that it was more than a little scary. Bears are fairly predictable. Cats? Not so much."
"It's true," Bob said. "I don't know about Dale, but the whole time I was out there I expected to be pounced on by 70 kilos of angry kitty. It was," and he paused here, searching for just the right word, "intense."
"One way to put it," Dale replied. "I was scared out of my wits. Not kidding. Like Bob all I could imagine was the cat watching us from the darkness, and getting pissed because we were messing with dinner. You can believe I dug pretty fast, eh?"
Bob laughed. "That you did!"
Dale chuckled in return. "I was a maniac," he said, and mimicked digging a hole with a shovel at a pace just shy of a blur.
This elicited a few quiet laughs from the room.
"I couldn't believe how deep the cat had buried the calf. Usually they just kind of mound some dirt over the top. Pee around it to ward off any other predators and move on. But not this one. It seemed like I dug forever!"
"Wasn't that long," Bob said. "Just seemed like it was because we were both on the edge of panic. Every little noise and it was 'Whatsat? Whatsat?" he said, sitting up straight on the couch and whipping his head around as if he were hearing things in every direction.
"Finally," Dale said, "I reached the kill." He paused. "Well, not the whole kill. Just the head."
Now if Dale had set out to script a scenario, he could not have concocted one that would have disturbed your Mother more. I finally had to pry her hands off my leg when her fingernails touched each other through my muscle. I had to give her credit. Substitute 'large carnivorus spider' for 'cougar', and I would have been in the middle of the room, jumping up and down, pounding on my head in a full state of 'willie-panic' faster than you could say Bob's yer uncle. Your Mother had chosen to express her fear in a demure form of a slight sweat and a complete rigor. Oh well, I thought, at least it would be easier to carry her to the room with every muscle in her body taunt as a bungee cord on our bike. Light as a feather, heavy as stone and all that. I tried to give her a hug, but she whipped her head to look at me and her eyes said "if-you-touch-me-I'm-going-to-go-all-primeval-on-your-ass-and-kill-you-with-your-own-arm-which-I-will-have-ripped-from-your-body'. As much as that sounds like fun I thought it best to give her some 'space' and retreated as far away as I possibly could given the tight quarters.
"So. That was my most scary moment."
I had to say something. I had to try and cast a glimmer of hope over this whole affair or your mom would never step outside again. If I couldn’t’ get through the fear I would have to have her boxed in the Lodge and shipped home at a later date. I would hope they would remember to poke some air-holes this time. It's one of those little details that's so obvious everyone thinks that someone else has surely taken care of it.
That reminds me. I miss your cousin Molly.
I cleared my throat. Mom didn't even react. Crap. This was more serious than I thought. "So, once you moved the head, did the cat stay away?"
"No," Dale said. "We wound up tranqing her a couple days later and re-locating her a long way away from here. Bears will generally learn to stay away. Cats, just like those little kitties you have at home, are creatures of habit. Once they get something in their head it's hard to get them to change their behavior."
Now, I hadn't realized that your mom hadn't been breathing until I heard a WHOOSH sound as she exhaled. She grabbed onto my arm and made a quiet sucking sound as she gulped the air into her lungs. Dale looked a bit surprised.
"So, once you re-located her, did she come back?" I asked, knowing full well what your mom needed to hear and praying that Dale would figure it out.
"Oh no," he said. "We never saw her again." He turned to Bob and Linda, "have you guys seen any more cats around here?"
"Don't think we have," Bob said, and looked to Linda for confirmation. She shook her head in agreement. "Saw one down on Highway 40 last year, and I've seen some tracks while we've been out and about but nothing close to the Lodge."
When she heard this, Mom sat back in her seat, the fear draining out of her like soapy water in a bathtub and taking most of the color in her face with it. I relaxed a bit as well. She was going to be fine. Such a trooper. I wouldn't have to carry her to the room after all. I believe it was right then, as your mom would explain later, that she developed the philosophy that would be her cornerstone, her rock, her guiding principal for the rest of her life. And that is this: large, carnivorous wildlife is best viewed from a window or on television. Her reasoning was that we had spent thousands of years getting AWAY from these predators and it would be rude and inconsiderate to our ancestors if we didn't take full advantage of all civilization had to offer. Things like doors and locks. Guns. Indoor plumbing. And, because she is your mom, chocolate.
Sidenote: For millions of years we, as a species, were on constant guard. But now, shoot – you have to work pretty darn hard to be eaten alive. It takes some energy to put yourself in a place where you might be food. And people say that things don’t change. Pffffttt.
Those were the highlights of the talk anyway. After we chatted a bit more about the cougar it became apparent that Dale was getting a little tired so he wound things up shortly thereafter. He gathered his things, woke the sleeping Keesha, and shared one more thing with the group.
"Something I forgot to tell you. It might sound as if you're taking your life in your hands every time you step out the door around here. But you know what? Cougar attacks are rare. Really rare. There was a series of attacks in the town of Banff back in 2002, but that was attributed to a single cougar. Other than that, nada. And you know how many bear fatalities there have been?"
Oh, such a leading question. Such a set up. But, and you will be very proud of me, I held my tongue because I didn't want to break the spell. See, Mom was now hanging on Dale's every word. If your mom was going to find an iota of solice in any of this she needed to hear out Dale without any silly diversions from me.
"Anyone?"
When no one answered Dale continued. "None. Not one single death from a grizzly. And here is another thing to think about. There are way more people injured by elk every year than there are by bear. The people that have been attacked haven't been following our 'bear smart' suggestions. So get out there and enjoy the trails and mountains but keep vigilant. Oh! And don't forget to have fun."
A round of applause and 'thank yous' echoed in the room. With a smile and a wave Dale and Keesha slipped out into the night.
I was sitting there, kind of digesting all the information from the evening. Mom stirred beside me and I knew that she was ready to call it a night. We had a long day of riding ahead of us tomorrow, and while we were taking a different route home, which was supposedly easier than the one we'd taken here, we still had no idea how long - or how hard - our day would be.
We were getting ready to go back to our room when Hemp-lady turned to me and said, "Do you know why no one was hurt?"
Now, I could have said any number of things but I was tired as well. Not firing on all cylinders, if you know what I mean. I'd picked up on the fact that hemp-lady hadn't totally agreed with what Dale was saying, mostly due to the heavy sighs and eye rolling, and I figured it was because the grizzly was probably her 'animal spirit guide' or something like that. Usually I would be chomping at the bit to discuss with this woman exactly why her particular philosophy was loopy, but it seemed like a lot of effort for very little amusement. So instead of offering some pithy insight, I simply shrugged.
"God," she said, and shook her head in an all-knowing creepy kind of way.
"Really?" I replied, before my brain could tell me to shut the hell up or I would be here all night.
"Oh definitely. See. . ." she said, and I understood that this was going to go on wayyyyyy longer than I had any interest in pursuing. Damn me and my auto responses! Damnable forced socialization!
"See God has a plan for all of us. That includes bears. If God wants you to be eaten, you'll be eaten. That's that."
She smiled at me.
Like spit on a hot griddle, the room cleared at the first hint of zealotry, leaving only Godly-hemp-lady, your mom, and me.
"So you're telling me," I said, "that you could walk out into the woods with twenty pounds of sausage strapped to your back and if God saw fit for you to live then you wouldn't be harmed?"
"Exactly. God has a plan for us all." She cocked her head to the side, "Are you a religious man?"
I wanted to say 'define religious'. As you know, my allegiance to any one deity wavers with the situation. My prayers are defined in accordance with my needs. Cthulu is wonderful for instilling insanity in my enemies. Vishnu really helps with the multi-tasking and technology. Buddha gets the chicks. Christ is kind of a catch-all. He's always good for a helping hand. As I’ve said many times I tend to identify more with the tricksters. Loki. Coyote. Glen Beck. Pan is just straight out a partier, so he covers things like the weather for weddings or group rides. I also adhere to the Greek and Roman Gods. One can't be too careful. The Sumerian holy-rollers figure prominently in the pantheon of my polytheism. Good ol' northern European Orthodox Paganism is a favorite. Oh! And I also like Pat Robertson and fundamental evangalists, but just for shits-n-giggles.
"Terribly religious." I shook my head in the positive. "Horribly religious," I smiled.
This seemed to puzzle her a bit, but she carried on. "I think the best defense against a cougar or bear attack is to pray and recite quotes from the Bible. It's the Lord's shield."
I had heard this term before. 'The Lord's shield'. Boring. Tell me about the 'Lord's socks', or the 'Lord's grocery list'. Then you'll have my attention.
"Are you versed in the bible?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
Oh my dear, you have no idea. I study the bible regularly online. Perhaps not YOUR bible, but that's beside the point.
"I can site chapter and verse," I told her.
She looked me up and down again and regarded me skeptically. I caught your mom out of the corner of my eye. As you know, her growing up the daughter of a Southern Baptist Minister had left her a bit . . . jaded. She started to stand, in order to physically pull me away from the discussion but I motioned her back down with a slight movement of my hand.
"Really?" hemp-lady said and sniffed.
Sniff at me will you? Oh, that was the third strike for you hemp-Christ-lady! I don't care what anyone believes. Honestly. That is a personal matter for each and everyone of us and is our right. Just as it is my right to think you bat-shit crazy. Just don't force your philosophy down my throat or there will be trouble.
A sly smile, full of righteousness and condemnation spread over her face like ice-cream on a warm laptop. "What's your favorite verse?"
"I'm more of an old-school, Old Testament kind of guy. I like my God angry, ruthless, and unapproachable."
"But that didn't answer my question," she said, believing that she'd caught me in a lie.
"You'd like me to quote some verse?"
“Please," she said.
I thought about just walking away, but you know I can't resist a fanatic. Even one covered in hemp.
"Genesis do ya?"
"That would be fine," she said, never waivering, never breaking eye contact.
"Fine. You want Genesis, you got Genesis. But you'll forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. A few lines or the whole first chapter?"
"Anyone can quote a few lines," she said.
Oh lady, lady, lady. This is going to be ridiculously fun! If I hadn't been the one talking I would have pulled up a chair and brought out the popcorn.
"Okay. Genesis it is." I cleared my throat. "You'll have to forgive my pronunciation. Some of the words are a little foreign to me. Here we go.”
" Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.
Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.
At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.
An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark An not tripz over nethin.
Before I proceed let me just say that I had never been happier to have memorized something in my life. Oh sure, I'd originally committed the passage from the ‘LOL Cat Bible’ to memory simply to annoy the hell out of your Aunt Vicky, but should that be held against me? I think not. Just because you've got a hammer in your pocket and you used it to fix Mrs. Grammerfield's kitchen door, although the hammer was actually there because you were going to go downtown and 'modify' a few windows, should not invalidate the kind deed. Besides. There's always plenty of time for a little 'keeshh! keeshh!' later.
Anyway, I was supremely proud of myself. I grinned the grin of the heretic.
I have no idea why this woman didn't interrupt me. Or, more technically 'smote' my ass. I think she was thrown so far off balance that her brain simply froze. I wish I could describe the look that came across the robed prophet, but alas, words fail me. Let it suffice to say that it was an absolute tidal wave of expression. Confusion. Horror. Revulsion. Anger. Righteous indignation. Anger. Contempt. Anger. Resentment. Anger. Hate. Anger. You know, all those good Christian qualities I've come to know and love.
"THAT!" she spat, "is NOT Genesis!"
"Don't let Ceiling Cat hear you say that. He can be a dark and angry kitteh." I looked side to side conspiritorialy, nodding my head in the affirmative. "He'll tak u 2 da bar."
She became quite calm - a little too calm - and whispered deadly even, "Blasphemer."
Note the distinction of her word choice. Not blasphemy. But 'blasphemer'. One pertains to an action, one to the person. This was turning out way better than I expected!
"Orly? I c wut u did thar. LOL."
Her hands, hanging loose by her sides, now knotted and unknotted like a ball of snakes in an electric current. "You are going to Hell," she sputtered with a grimace that would have made one of Dale's bears head for the hills.
"Probably. But before I go we need to talk about that skin color you've got going on and the uncontrollable shaking. I believe you may be possessed. Possessed by the spirit of Basement Cat. Tell me, have you had an uncontrollable urge to shred the curtains? Steal a cheeseburger? Eets a plant den barfs? Charge yer lazers? Where exactly do you stand on the theosophy of Longcat and Tacgnol? Do you agree that the battle is Epic?"
To give her credit she tried to think of something more to say. She sputtered and worked her mouth up and down like a dying fish in the bottom of a boat. Might have even spit a little. Finally her face went from deep red to purple, and she turned on her heel, and with nary another word, strode out of the room.
As she crossed the threshold I shouted "kthxbai!"
Mom, strangely quiet through this entire encounter, let out a sigh. "Really? Was that necessary?"
"Necessary? Probably not. Fun? Definitely. I totally pwned her. A conversation chock-full of win and fail. Delicious."
"You do know that you are a forty-eight year old man, right?"
"Of course I do."
"And you realize that lolcat isn't a real language, right?"
I eyed her carefully. "Blasphemer."
"Okay fine. Whatever. Let's go get some sleep. But when we get home I'm going to confiscate your laptop." She took my hand and started leading me to the door. "It's a good thing you have me."
"Duh. Like I don’t know that. But why do you think that?"
She stopped dead in her tracks. "Because after thirty-two years even I don't know whether you're completely insane, or just partially. But I would defend you to the ends of the earth," she said and leaned over to kiss my face. She then opened the massive door and pulled me onto the darkness of the porch. "Let's run! I don't want to be eaten!" she giggled and dashed over to our door.
I followed her. A day like today had worn me completely to a nub. A nice shower and a soft bed was what I needed. Tomorrow, we would get up and pack the bike, have breakfast and hit the road for home. It was bittersweet.
And it would be good to get home, back where summer was still in full glory. Not here. Here it was freezing.
And when I say freezing, I mean freezing.
Tomorrow should be interesting. Interesting indeed.
Chapter 14
We bid Adieu
I love the mornings. Well, I love the mornings if they don't come too early. Up here, in the Canadian Rockies, morning came in the middle of the night. So you'll understand why I was a bit flummoxed to awaken to the delicate trilling of . . .
"Crap. Crap crap crap. Double crap."
As I've explained, your Mother has always had a unique way of rousing me, but this was a new one even for her. Perhaps in my sleep deprived state I was mistaking your mother for a disgruntled song-bird.
I yawned and stretched. "Morning sweetie."
I squinted and saw the silhouette of your mom against the windows of the French doors to the deck. My eyes weren't working terribly well yet. The older I get, the longer it takes to fire up the systems. I need an upgrade. David 2.0 to David 2.43 would be nice. Guess I should have purchased the extended warranty.
"Have you seen outside?" Mom asked.
I thought about this for a minute, not quite sure how she thought it was possible that I, in my sleep, had observed the great outdoors. Astral projection is not my strong suit. Or sure, I can get out of my body but then I usually end up stuck in the refrigerator, a sideboard, or between floors. Boring! I decided, and correctly so because it was the start of the day, not to pursue this slip of language and point out to your Mother that until 90 seconds ago my eyes had been closed. But I knew what she meant. She meant 'get-your-patootie-over-here-and-look-outside-because-I-have-to-share-this-with-someone-or-I'm-going-to-bust'. Even in my addled, caffeine-starved state I comprehended that whatever she was looking at couldn't be good.
"Whattsamatta? Something wrong with the moose?"
Please let it be something with the moose and not a bear and a cougar with guns taking turns sitting on the bike.
"No. Just come over here."
It took me a minute because I had to convince my body that moving would be a good idea. All indications were that lying perfectly still would be the body’s choice, but the body knows nothing of the ways of marriage. Finally I managed to stand and hobble-hopped over to where your mom stood scowling. As I got closer she stepped to the side, drawing back the curtain.
Well. Well fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck. Would you look at that.
Snow.
And not just a skiff. Oh no, they do things big up here in the mountains and this bit of weather was no different. No, there was a good three inches covering the deck, the Lodge, the meadow and peaks surrounding the valley. The sky was clear as anything that morning. Bluer than I'd seen a sky in a long, long time. We used to have the bluest skies you'd ever seen in Seattle, but that was back when Perry Como was alive.
The sun, up until now naught but a rumor, was just beginning to rise over a horizon we couldn't see. The effect was the top of the mountains looked like they'd been lit by humongous electric lights. Kind of like the security lights on our neighbor Fred's garage. You know, the one that shines RIGHT IN OUR BEDROOM!!
Which reminds me, I need more BBs.
Just picture it - early dawn, the meadow and valley transitioning from dark to light, and these mountains blazing. Reflecting the fresh snow like beacons. It was breathtaking. I would have loved it more except for an eensie, weensie, little negative thought that had crawled to the forefront of my mind and stuck there like a piece of spinach on your blind-date's remaining front tooth. No way around it, we were going to have to ride the bike through this stuff. Ugh.
"Gah! Snow? Well of course. Of course we would wake up to snow on the day we're to leave." I rubbed my forehead. "No doubt the Park Service has also seen fit to release the pterodactyls and T-Rex on this fine morning as well." I banged my head lightly against the glass of the door. "It is beautiful though, isn't it? You know, in a kind of 'last thing you see before you die' kind of way.
"I have to admit it's incredible," Mom said as I pulled her into a hug.
"But what the Hell? It's August! And mid-August at that. Doesn't Canada adhere to the seasons?"
What kind of a rogue nation fiddles with the seasons? And then it hit me. Wily Canadians, you have suckered us once again with your hellish measurements! What we were experiencing were no doubt kilomonths. Or nanoyears. Or decadays. Bastards. They could warn you when you cross the border, you know?
"Maybe there's some flippin' Canadian season converter no one told us about. Sure, it's mid-August at our house but for all we know it could be late November up here."
That stopped her short. She looked at me with wide eyes. "I'm scared," Mom said.
”Because of the snow?"
"Well yeah. But mostly because you're beginning to make sense."
"It's awful, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes it is,” she replied.
Poor dear, it's not easy to realize you've stepped through the looking glass.
"So, she said, looking up and down the length of the meadow, "What are we going to do?"
Fine question that. As you’ve seen, your Mother has this unique ability to distill any situation to its essence. It wasn't just the snow that had me worried. We were taking the mythical 'Highway 40' back to the flat-land and I had no idea what we were going to find. I mean, what if these people, in some perverted punishment for us being from THE STATES, had collectively lied about the quality of the road? It might shoot straight off a cliff for all I know. Don't laugh. I've seen several movies where this has happened. Hollywood doesn't lie. And on top of the 'unknown Highway', we had to add snow. Four wheels on snow was bad enough. Take that down to two. The words slippy-slippy crashy-crashy die-y die-y come to mind.
With a sigh I said, "Not much we can do babe. I guess the best thing is to go have breakfast and hope that when the the sun rises high in the sky it will melt the snow off the roads. Might cut into our travel time, but I don't see that we have any choice."
"This has been some vacation, hasn't it?"
"That is has my dear, that it has." I turned away from the door and returned to sit on the end of the bed. "Go take a shower. We'll go grab something to eat and deal with whatever we have to deal with."
As Mom 'made herself presentable', I sat and pondered. I wish I could tell you I arrived at some wonderful realization. Some grand epiphany. But alas, as I sat there all I could think of was 'Well. Guess I'm driving in snow.'
We entered the dining room for breakfast, and there at the table sat Julie and Robert. We took a seat next to them. There were a few other people in the room, but not nearly as many as in the previous two days.
"So," Robert said, "you guys heading home today?" he said, and made a pointed move to look out the window at the snow, then back to me.
"Yeah." I answered and poured myself a cup of coffee. "You guys?"
"We have one more day here," Julie said.
Robert grinned. "How do you think that big machine of yours is going to handle in the snow?"
"Pretty well actually," I said as casually as I could. "I don't think we'll have to deploy the automatic chain system, but we may have to use the in-line sanders a bit."
Julie shook her head. "You have chains for your bike tires?"
Robert and I looked at her in unison, then at each other, then back to her.
"Oh. A joke. I get it."
"Hopefully it will melt before we hit the road. If not, I may catch a couple of moose and hitch them to the front of the bike. They get through the snow pretty well, don't they?"
"Probably," Robert replied.
For some reason the image of two moose roped to the front of the Vision was just about the funniest thing Julie had ever heard. When she stopped giggling she turned to your mom and said, "Oh he's so FUNNY!"
"Oh yeah," Mom said, and rubbed my bald head, a tad aggressively I thought, "it's a laugh-a-minute with David."
"Babe," I said, "that didn't sound entirely positive."
She just shrugged. I would have been upset but it was a fair statement. I don't know if you've ever noticed but I tend to find the humor in any situation. Even when it's not appropriate. As they say, it's always fun until someone loses an eye. Then it's hilarious.
Julie, with a true look of concern said, "Are you guys going to be able to stay warm?"
Mom looked at me. Evidently this was a question that she would like an answer to as well.
"I think we're going to be fine. The Vision has heated seats and grips. We'll layer on as much clothing as possible.." I smiled, but I thought of my mesh jacket and shivered.
I caught Robert grinning.
“At least we won’t have to worry about breaking down or anything. The Vision is remarkably reliable. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a drop of oil from her.”
For a brief instant intense concern rolled over Robert’s face. Ah, another job well done. My work here was finished.
We sat back with our coffee and our tea and watched the sun fill the valley with light. It was GORGEOUS. Morning light on fresh snow - August or not - is a sight of which I never tire. Well, as long as I'm warm and inside a building with central heat. It gets pretty old pretty quick when you're viewing a wonderland like this from inside a helmet with nothing but summer clothes to keep you warm.
The rest of breakfast was uneventful. Delicious but uneventful. I would write an opus to the meats I devoured, a sonnet to the eggs, and a song about the toast but I think you get the point by now. Let's just say that I had fulfilled my grease quotient for the day, and possibly all the days until next March.
We ate and talked, laughed and joked, and when we had eaten the last piece of sausage and drank the last cup of coffee there was nothing to do but face the facts - it was time to hit the road. We said our farewells to Robert and Julie, closing with what every biker says to the other when they part. "Ride safe."
Although Julie had to add, "Be careful on Highway 40. A biker hit a bear down there last week."
Et tu, Julie?
Turned out that Robert and Julie weren't such bad people after all. You know, for BMW riders. And lawyer folk. And Canadian.
Leeza came and sat beside us at the table. "So, you picked a fine day to be heading home."
"We Moores seem to have a knack for that," I said. "I think it's genetic. My Great-grandfather was the same way."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Let's just say that if it weren't for Great-Grandpa Chester, the Donner Party would have waited until spring. But no. He just HAD to convince them that fall foliage in California was a 'must see' experience."
Mom put her arm around my shoulders and said, "That would also explain your love of . . . how would you say it? All things meaty?"
"True sweetie. Too true. Before you judge dear old Grandpa it really wasn't his fault. See, he was also dyslexic. He'd been holding the map upside down. Thought they were going to Vermont."
"You two crack me up," Leeza said.
Oh, a dollar for every time I've head that over the years! Sometimes it was even spoken with a positive slant.
"Do you guys want to pack a lunch before you go?"
"No thanks," Mom said. "Sometimes enticing him with food is the only way I can get off the bike."
"Well, you two have a safe trip back to THE STATES. We really enjoyed you guys staying with us. Did you have a good time? Was everything up to your expectations?"
Before I could answer Mom jumped in, "This has been one of the best vacations I've had. The food, the room . . . shoot, even the wildlife. It's been a great adventure. Hasn't it?", she said, looking at me.
"Well I thought so, but I also am a huge fan of train wrecks and shipping disasters, so I'm probably not a good barometer."
The rest of the staff wandered in and said their goodbyes. It's amazing how attached you can get to people in such a short time. Now that it was almost over I didn't want to go. And it had nothing to do with the snow.
See, I had learned something about Canadus Sapien in my stay here in the mountains. I'd learned that . . . ummm . . . I'd learned that . . . well, I'd learned that they could put up with me for three days, and that made them A-okay in my book. Shoot, even you and your sister can't do that.
Donny was the last to tell us goodbye. He shook my hand so hard I thought I was going to lose a filling.
"You folks take care now. And be careful. A biker hit a bear down on Highway 40 last week."
I thanked Donny for his concern, and Mom and I stepped out of the Lodge for the last time and into the bracing cold.
Back in our room, I turned to Mom and said, "I suggest that we put on as many layers as we can."
"Do you think we're going to be able to make it?"
"Oh, I don't think we'll have much problem, if the road back down is as good as they say. The snow is starting to melt. It should be off the roads in just a bit."
We put on our layers. And more layers. Then a couple more for good measure. Your mom looked like a puffy little snow-woman. I didn't point this out to her.
It's amazing how quickly you can pack the bike when you're wearing three-quarters of what you packed. Before you knew it we were in the saddle, the bike was running, and the sky was blue and stretching out before us like an inverted ocean. True, it was a little difficult to bend my arms at the elbow, and my legs had a tendency to stick out straight from the sides of the bike but those were minor details.
I brought the bike upright, and put the kickstand up. With a deep breath I said "You ready for this babe?"
"No."
"And I can't blame you for that. Just stay relaxed back there and we'll do fine."
"Okay," she said, but I could tell she was less than convinced.
"Before we go, answer me this: Can you feel your lips?"
She pondered that for a moment. "Not really. But it's okay. It will distract me from the fact that we may die at any moment."
I told you she was a trooper.
So with a twist of the throttle, and a mighty 'Heigh-Ho Vision!' I eased off the clutch and slowly rolled through the fresh snow of the parking lot. We stopped and took a last look at the Lodge, at Moose-snot Roost, at what we had come to call 'our valley'. As we sat there a moose walked down the road in front of us and disappeared over the bank to the wallow. The perfect ending.
We slipped a little as I pulled onto the main road but the bike soon recovered. The snow was breaking up as the day warmed, so it was really a layer of slush on top of the gravel. Not too bad for travel. I was a little nervous for the first half-mile or so, but soon was lost in the incredible scenery that surrounded us.
Mom leaned forward and said, "This is magical."
"The scenery or the whole trip?" I asked through a slightly fogged face shield.
"Mostly this."
I would like to be able to tell you that the road back down the hill was as horrible as the route we'd taken up to the Lodge, but that wasn't the case. The road was wide and level with nary a washboard or pothole. The descent was as gradual as a baby's butt, and just as smooth. We made good time and before I knew it there was nothing but small patches of snow here and there. Another ten minutes and the road was completely clear. Five more and we had reached the turn-off to the Highway and the wondrous sight of blacktop. Another ten minutes and I was pulling over to start shedding layers.
"Well, that was certainly easier than coming up the other side, eh?"
"Ya think?", Mom said.
"Well, easier, but think of all of the adventure you would have missed out on if we'd came up this way in the first place."
I don't know what was going on in your mom's head, but I'm sure that if I were privy to her exact thoughts I wouldn't be pleased. Not pleased at all.
Finally, she looked at me with a blank expression and said, "Sure."
We jumped back on the bike and headed for, what even I had come to refer to as THE STATES.
The rest of the trip was pretty ordinary. The scenery was fantastic. As we went south we broke out of the mountains and for the next eighty miles - yes miles, I was heading home to the land of REAL measurement so I could revert to my native calculations - for the next eighty miles we drove along the east side of the Rockies. The dusting of snow highlighted every swirl, every ribbon of granite and crop of rock. Glorious. Rockies to our right, and with no transition prairie to the left. It was as if the prairie, on its way to the ocean, had hit a major block and erupted, throwing its contents into the air. We didn't see anymore bears, or moose, or any other wildlife but we did see many an oil well pumping crude and they do look a little prehistoric so it was all good.
As I drove, I thought back over our trip. The fun, the danger, the conversations. I sighed a little. How is it what seems so difficult at the time later turns into our fondest memories?
Mom had been silent for quite some time. Finally she leaned forward and said, "You know, for everything we've been through this has been the best vacation. Thank you sweetie."
I reached behind and gave her knee a loving squeeze. "So, you're going to let me live?"
"For the time being," she said, and patted me on the shoulder.
She sat back in her seat and after a few minutes leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder again.
"I'm thinking next year we go to Alaska. Ride the highway all the way down. We could take the ferry from Seattle, then cruise back home."
"Why stop at home? I've always wanted to see Mexico," I said through the wind.
"Well, if we go that far, we might as well go all the way."
"Tierra Del Fuego?"
"To the ends of the earth for you sweetie. The ends of the earth," she said, closing her shield and leaning back in her seat.
How could you not love a woman like that?
THE END
***********************************************************
That concludes 'David & Suzanne's Big Frickin' Motorcycle Adventure'.
I hope you enjoyed the ride. :)
Take care,
David
Buy The Book At Amazon! $15.95
Kindle Version $ 4.99
Nook $4.99
"Were they in serious danger?" Robert asked, "Or are we making too big of a deal out of this?"
Oh Robert, Robert, Robert. I deduct 10 points from your man score. Do not pass GO. Do not have a pleasant ride home. Believe me when I say that it can be a long, long ride with a woman kidney-punching you all the way. And yes, I speak from experience.
Julie, and every other woman in the room, glared. Not just glared, but glowered. Not just glowered, but seethed. Sucks to be you Robert. Sucks to be you. Of course Robert, being a man and being married, knew the minute he'd let his question fly that it was a mistake. I smelled jewelry in Julie's future.
"Well," Dale said, "the short answer is yes. Anytime you are anywhere near a grizzly you're in danger. They are wild, unpredictable animals. I've been doing this for a dozen years and they still surprise me." He turned to Robert who now was doing his best to ignore his wife lest she go for his throat. "Did that answer your question?"
"Um. Yeah," Robert said. "Thank you."
"So," I said and watched your mom wilt into the leather of the couch, "let me paint you a picture." I then proceeded to recount our dusky arrival of a few days before, and the bears we'd seen. And the Moose. And, for a brief moment before your mom poked me in the ribs, my theory on Viking cloning.
"Wow," Dale said, "that sounds like quite a story. Where did you say this happened?"
"Right after you pass the lake, or reservoir - whatever it is - on your way up from Carnack."
Dale shook his head and blinked. I wished people would stop doing that. It was beginning to erode my confidence.
"You rode a motorcycle up from Carnack? The one in the parking lot? How did the BMW handle that hill?"
"Umm . . . I have no idea. We were riding the Vic."
Dale looked at me. Stared at me. Then blinked his eyes once, twice, three times. "No shit?"
I looked at your mom. "Well yeah."
"On purpose?" Dale asked.
"Do we really ever do anything 'on purpose' Dale? Is our path, our journey predetermined---"
"Not on purpose," Mom interrupted.
"Right. Not entirely on purpose," I said. "Mostly. But not entirely." I paused here and exchanged a look with your mom. "Okay, accidently then."
With a jerk of her thumb towards me Mom said, "He gets lost. A lot."
Woman! Woman what have you done? Have you no shame? How could you out me like this in front of a group of my peers? Next thing you know you'll be telling them that we listened to the soundtrack from the "Sound of Music" on the way here, and my reputation will be shot. Shot like a dry bean out of a toddler's nose.
"Not a lot," I said. "Just . . . frequently. But you have to admit, that when we get lost we do it spectacularly. With flair!"
Mom choose to ignore this comment.
"Wow. Okay then," Dale said. "Did you see a tag on the bear's ear?"
I wanted to ask him how the hell I was supposed to see that much detail when my vision was occupied with my life flashing before my eyes, but I held my tongue.
"Don't know," I said. "I was kind of preoccupied with not dying."
"I'm just asking because we haven't had a report of a bear in that area in quite awhile. See, we sedate and tag all the problem bears - the REAL problem bears, the ones that the paintball and other techniques don't work on - so we can keep track of them. You didn't see a large, yellow tag on her ear?"
I searched my memory, replaying the incident in my head. I saw a lot of things on that bear. A magnificent rump. A patch of mottled fur. Teeth. Drool. What I'm sure were bits of flannel between her paws but definitely no tag. Possibly an expired Library card caught in her molars.
"Well that's a little worrisome," Dale said. "Keesha and I might have to look into that. How close was she?"
I pointed to the wall behind him. "And she didn't run?"
"Nope. Just kind of took her time walking across the road, then stopped and watched us. I don't know how long. I was trying not to look back, just trying to focus on the road ahead, you know?"
"That's not good. Not good at all," Dale said, furrowing his brow and talking more to himself than the group.
I decided to ignore this. "So anyway, back to my question. The grizzly can run . . . what, about 30 mph?"
"Miles per hour? Yeah, 30 or 35 for short bursts." He paused for a second, then added "That’s right. You guys are from THE STATES."
Why yes, yes we are. Thank you for noticing.
"Yep, we are. Seattle area. Anyway, what should we have done in that situation? I mean, I would have thought that the sound of the bike would have scared her off."
"That's what's so worrisome," Dale said. I could feel your mom tense next to me. "As for what to do. . ." he raised his hands into the air, with a slight grin and a cocked head said, "I guess drive faster than 35 mph?"
Well that was less than helpful. He could have just as easily raised his hands and said 'Die?'. Which, come to think of it, might have been the subtext. As you know subtlety is not one of my strong points.
"I guess from your description she could have had some cubs. I haven't seen any in that area but it's not impossible." He looked around and addressed the group, "You don't under ANY circumstances want to get between a mother grizzly and her cubs. I probably should have said that first."
Like he's telling me? I've been to soccer games. I've bought more Girl Scout cookies than I could ever possibly consume strictly out of fear. You don't have to tell me twice.
Julie, who had been semi-catatonic through this exchange suddenly perked up. She clamped on to Robert's arm. "Do you think the bear WE saw had cubs?"
Dale, if you have an ounce of intelligence in your head, which, from all appearances you do, lie to the woman. Lie and tell her that there were no cubs. Lie like a used-car salesman at the end of the month with a broken-down hatchback and a quota to fill.
"I don't think so," Dale said, and Julie visibly relaxed.
"Oh," Julie said. "Okay then."
Dale turned back to me. "And then the moose blocked the road. That must have been tense."
"Pffffttt," I said. "All in a day’s work for the adventure team. But it got me to thinking. Do you think that the bear and moose were in cahoots? You know, the moose trapped us while her friend the bear made the kill? I'm thinking the bear might cut her in for a share, but aren't moose strict vegans? Maybe the bear had a little dirt on the moose and was blackmailing her." I had addressed this observation to the rest of the group who were now looking at me as if I'd crossed some line. Changing tactics, I spoke directly to Robert, "It happens you know. Thuggery is rampant in these mountains. I blame the kids and their Rap music. Oh, and violent video games."
This elicited a few chuckles and half-hearted smiles. Dale, in his wisdom tried his best to ignore me. "Are there any other questions? I mean," he said looking at me, "any real questions?"
"What about the other bear?" I said.
Dale paused, chewing over what I'd just asked. Should he engage me in further conversation, or should he ignore me completely? "Okay I'll bite, what other bear?"
Ah curiosity. A horrible human foiable.
"Well there were two really. We saw another one this afternoon." I paused, "So I guess that makes three in total. I'll get to that one in a minute. I'm talking about the one Suzanne saw on our way in. It was after we had been cornered by the Moose Mafia, but before we reached the lodge." I turned to your mom, "You take it from here sweetie."
Dale, visibly relieved that he would be addressing the saner half of your parental units, raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Well," Mom said, taking a deep breath, "like David said, it was after the moose. We were riding down the road and I looked up on this hillside. It was gravel and bushes for about 20 feet from the road to the top, then the tree line." She used her hands to show the incline of the bank and how it leveled into the trees at the top. "Something caught my eye, and I looked up the bank and right in front of the trees was a bear." Mom looked around the room to see if people were paying attention. "I watched it follow us for a while along the ridge. It was moving pretty fast, keeping up with us. Pacing us. It kind of popped in and out of the forest."
Dale made a sound much like Lucille Ball used to make, only not as funny. "EEEEeeeeeee!"
"EEEeeee?" Mom asked.
"So was this the same bear that you saw earlier?"
Well there was a thought that sent chills up my spine. I had considered it briefly, but thought I was just being paranoid. If it WERE the same bear, that means that at some time when we were stranded by the moose, Ms. Huge-butt had passed right by and traveled up the road ahead. One word came to mind. Ambush.
"I don't know. I didn't see the one that David saw."
"Can you describe it?"
"Well, it was big. And it was a bear." She shrugged her shoulders. "That's about it. It was the end of a very, very," and here she paused to look at me, "VERY long day. My brain was toast."
Dale looked at me and then shook his head in the affirmative at your mom, indicating he was pretty sure he knew EXACTLY what she meant. "That wasn't good. You don't want a bear following you like that."
"Why not?" Julie asked.
"Because," he said, raising his hands up to his chest in sock-puppet fashion, with the left hand slightly higher, "you know, predator," he said, bouncing his left hand, "and prey," he said, indicating his right. He then opened his left hand to mimic jaws, and clamped it quickly over his right hand, now curled into a fist. For good measure he made chewing sounds. "Arrrghllll bargel nom-nom-nom"
Mom looked at me and her eyes were wide. Wide and glassy.
"Oh," Julie said, and kind of collapsed back on the couch, leaning against Robert. It was then that I realized two things: One, after this trip Robert was never going to get Julie on the back of a motorcycle ever again. Two, Julie would never, ever commune with nature with the possible exception of a zoo or a documentary.
"This brings up a good point. Let's talk about the bear that doesn't run away. The one that isn't afraid or shy, for whatever reason."
Dale then went on to explain what to do if your bear hadn't read the manual. If a bear stops or alters its current behavior, you’re too close and should back away slowly. If a bear comes running towards you, making loud sounds and slapping the ground with its paw, you should back away slowly. (Then change your underwear. Dale didn't say that so it must be a given.) If a bear persistently follows or approaches you, without vocalizing, or paw swatting, change your direction. If the bear still follows, stand your ground. (Sure. And then I'll go slap Chuck Norris in the face and insult his mother.) If the bear gets closer, talk loudly or shout at it. Try to intimidate the bear. If you are with other people act together as a group. (For some reason this brought to mind performing a skit. Like at summer camp. I have no idea why, I'm just reporting what happened.) Make yourselves look as large as possible. (This is why everyone should wear puffy shirts when they hike.) Throw rocks. Whatever you do, don’t run and don't turn away from the bear.”
That last part, I'll have you know, goes against every single instinct I possess.
Hemp-lady looked at me while he said this. I couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, owing to the fact that I had lost interest in her about 10 minutes ago, but if I lip read correctly it was 'umphnd dephanertat'. She must be bilingual.
"One of the best things you can do is hike with a group. You're much safer with a group of people, than you are hiking by yourself or with a partner. Have you guys seen some of the rules posted on the trails around here?"
"You mean the ones that state the trail can't be hiked by less than a party of four, right?" Robert asked.
"Exactly," said Dale. "The incidence of a grizzly attacking a group of 4 or more is almost unheard of. So there really is safety in numbers."
Now this made perfect sense to me. Nobody wants trouble. This is why Mormons travel in packs.
Julie perked up at this, a slight ray of hope shone in her face. "There we go," she said to Robert, "all we have to do is bring my sister Carol and her husband Thomas on our next hike!"
While Robert didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as Julie, he saw that if he wanted to visit anywhere with a tree ever again it would be best to be supportive. Being a man, and a married man at that, I read the smile-plastered-over-a-look-of-seasickness for what it was. There was no way in hell he would ever hike with her sister and brother-in-law, but he was probably going to have to do it anyway. Poor Robert, he was looking at this as a negative. I say take that bitter pill and coat it with enough sugar to get diabetes! If I were in his shoes I would find this a perfect opportunity to feed your Aunts and Uncles to the bears. Not that it would work. Our family is pretty scrappy. We survived the '70s. You don't think that took guts? I have three words for you: Bell-bottoms. Nixon. Disco. They would probably kick the bear's ass. So I would never hike with them, even if I could. I couldn't take the chance of having to listen to THAT story at every Thanksgiving until the day I die. There's only so much aggravation that can be covered up with pumpkin pie and gravy.
Dale began to wrap up his spiel. There was a bit more about bear behavior, but it basically boiled down to this: Take away the food and the bear goes away. Stay safe in the woods and don't go where the bear’s food is. Which was Robert and Julie's mistake because they'd been walking through a berry patch. Julie poked Robert in the ribs when she heard this. Poor, poor Robert. Poor hen-pecked man. What, I wondered, must it feel like to have lost all shred of manhood and dignity at the hands of your wife. I was going to ask him what it felt like when your mom elbowed me in the ribs so I forgot about it pretty fast.
When Dale paused for a minute I jumped into the void. "Wait, we didn't tell you about the third bear. The one we saw this morning."
As you know I'm fairly astute when it comes to reading the body language of other people. I could tell from Dale's stance exactly what he was thinking for I see this posture more than I would like to admit in my day-to-day life. Dale was thinking 'Can someone please make him stop?'
Silly Dale. Silly, silly man.
"Okay," Dale said with what I thought was an inordinate amount of resignation in his voice, "tell me about the third bear."
So as not to bore the rest of the group, and possibly so that I could gloss over some of the more embarrassing moments, I got straight to the point and gave Dale a concise, abbreviated version of this morning events. "We were down by. . . what's the name of that picnic area?" I asked your mom.
"Annaminga," she answered.
"Right. Annaminga. Well we were driving by and saw some cars parked at the entrance to the road. We pulled over and that's when we saw the bear." I continued on with the encounter describing how she came down the hill and how she acted. "But the most amazing part is that when the bear walked behind the car and. . . " here I paused, looking to make sure that our Danish friends were out of earshot. I saw that Leeza had at some point come to stand in the doorway behind us. She picked up on what I was doing and with a quick glance over her shoulder gave me a 'thumbs up' that the coast was clear. "And this couple jumped out and started taking pictures! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen."
"Your kidding, right?" Dale said.
"No. No I'm not," I said shaking my head.
"Well I don't know how to say this any other way but that was stupid."
"You'll never guess who it was," Leeza said with a grin.
Dale rubbed his temples. "You've GOT to be kidding me."
"Nope. Wish I was," Leeza chuckled.
Dale stood there for a bit shaking his head. "Wow. That's just scary."
"I know! I can't believe how casual people are about danger. I guess they are oblivious to the risk they're taking," I said.
Dale stared at me. "You do realize that you're riding a motorcycle in the middle of a fairly good size grizzly population, right? I mean you're riding right out there, not a window or door between you and the world?"
Oh I saw Dale's point. Pot and kettle and all that.
"LOL, I see wut you did thar," I replied in my best meme-speak but I think it was lost on this audience. "But it's different."
"Really? How so?"
"Because. It's me. And it's different for me." I flashed a huge grin around the room. "Oh, I know what it's like for other people, but for me - it's different."
Dale sucked on his front teeth, making a click. "Okay." Only he drew out the 'O' until it became an indictment of my judgement. I thought about getting all pissed for a minute, thought back over the conversation, and decided he was probably right.
Dale then quizzed us as to the size, color, and behavior exhibited by the bear. We talked about the young hikers, and the bear they saw. Man, he was into bears. Really, really into bears. Creepily into bears. We told him what we could, yet no matter how hard we scoured our memories it was still basically big, toothy, bearish.
After we'd exhausted this particular close encounter of the bear kind, Mark looked around the room and said, "Well, I think that about wraps it up. Are there any questions?"
I cleared my throat to speak and Mom pulled me close, rather abruptly I thought, and whispered in my ear one solitary word. A single word that might have only four letters and one syllable, but in actuality contained an encyclopedia of unspoken action.
"Don't."
I would protest that I knew not of what she spoke - but I knew exactly of what she spoke.
"It's okay," I whispered back, "this is a legitimate question."
Mom regarded me warily, but slowly released me from her grip.
"I have a question," I said and watched Dale tense. "You've certainly had your share of personal bear encounters. What was the one that frightened you most?"
Dale looked at me and blinked his eyes a couple of times. "That's actually a good question. I've been in some close spots with the bears but I've never been what I would call 'scared'. Concerned yes. Even pretty darn anxious. But when I'm out on the trails I'm planning ahead, practicing my bear-safe techniques. That's the trick. The best defense against a bear attack is avoiding the situation in the first place. So," he said, looking at me, "the most scared I've been on the job didn't come from a bear. It happened last year right here at the lodge with a cougar."
Oh oh. Crap and jehoobis! Wish I hadn't asked that question. I held out hope that this was going to turn out to be an uncomfortable incident with an older woman with a 'hankerin'' if you know what I mean, but I didn't think so. For one, Dale was way too old to be the plaything of a fading beauty. Plus I don't think that a hiking lodge in the Canadian Rockies is the natural habitat of that particular species of cougar. I think they prowl gyms. And discos. And high school football games. Sometimes cub scout meetings. You get the picture.
Your mom tensed every muscle in her body as well as a few in mine. She gripped my leg just above the knee and although I know she didn't realize what she was doing, dug her nails into my leg quite viciously.
On second thought perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Last year, what . . . was it mid-August? About this time of year?" he asked Leeza.
"Yeah. Just about."
"The lodge called me up and said that they had a cougar hanging around. That is really bad, as I'm sure you know, having a cougar claim your place as part of its territory is just asking for problems. People and cougars don't mix. Sooner or later the there will be a clash. So, we needed to get this cat away from here as quickly as we could. Wasn't as easy as you think. Cats don't stay in any one spot for very long. Every time there was a sighting and they called me, the cat would be long gone by the time I got here."
"It was really frustrating," Leeza added. "I mean, it was incredible to see this huge, beautiful animal, but we realized at the same time, the danger."
"Right," Dale said. "Leeza? Why don't you tell them the next part?"
"Sure." She stepped to the forefront and said, "I don't know if any of you have been around a cougar, but they make some bone-chilling sounds. Especially at night."
Oh yeah. We know that don't we? We've heard a few in the valley behind our house. I don't know which creeps me out worse, the sound of a baby crying in the woods at night or the sound of a woman screaming. Bah! Gives me the willies just thinking about that sound! You can't see it, but the hair on my arms is standing straight up.
"Well one night a bunch of guests and some of the staff were sitting outside enjoying the stars and the quiet." She turned to your mom and me. "Sorry guys. It really doesn't rain all the time. And when it's clear you can't believe how many stars there are in the sky."
"S'okay," I said, "we're from Seattle. We're used to it."
"Maybe you brought it with you," Robert offered.
"Possible. Seattle rain is notoriously needy. It might have gotten lonely and followed us here."
"Anyway," Leeza continued, "we were sitting out there when we heard one of the most disturbing sounds coming at us out of the darkness. And not very far away at all. Just out there in the meadow," she said, pointing through the room and out the dining room windows. "I won't go into details but the cat had caught and was in the process of killing a moose calf. It was horrible and heartbreaking at that same time. And those sounds. . . I don't think I'll ever forget the sounds. The cougar, the calf, and the mom." She turned to Dale. "It cleared the deck pretty fast."
"I'll bet it did."
"We didn't know it was a moose calf until the next morning when we could see in the light. We just knew that the cat had killed something. Blood, hair, the ground was tore up." She shivered. "The calf's body was gone but it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together. Yuck." Leeza here - for lack of a better term - made an ookey face. "That was scary enough, but then the next day we kept seeing the cat. All day long. It would just sit below the deck, or on the hill out back and watch. It wasn't scared and it wouldn't get scared. We tried all kinds of things but it wouldn't go away. It was really creepy. No one wanted to go outside. Well, almost no one," she said, rolling here eyes, "We had to do something, so of course we called Dale."
"And I got up here with about 15 minutes of daylight to spare. I'd been out all day and didn't get my messages until late that afternoon. We busted up here as fast as we could."
"And we appreciate that," Leeza reassured him.
"What I couldn't figure out is why the cat was here. Then when Leeza told me about the calf kill I figured out what was going on, or at least had my suspicions. After I got here it only took me a minute to confirm my fear. See, when a cat makes a kill, it likes to hide its prize from the rest of the world, going back to feed on it at its leisure. That's exactly what this one had done. I took a flashlight out and did a little scouting. Sure enough, right off the deck in back I found a fresh dig. This told me two things: One, the cat had claimed this area as its own - Lodge or no Lodge. Two, it was comfortable enough to bury its kill here. It had absolutely no fear of humans. And that," he said, "is really, really bad."
He paused, and I stole a glance at your Mother. I wish I hadn't. I didn't need visual confirmation. I couldn't feel my leg below the knee. That was enough.
"It was too late to do anything with the cat, but I knew I had to do something," Dale continued. "So about the only thing I could do was get rid of the calf's carcass. Get rid of the cat's food. See?"
"And he came to ask me to help," Bob said, where he sat on the sofa beside his wife.
”I figured that if I was going to go out there I needed someone to hold a flashlight while I dug."
"Yeah," Bob said, "and watch out for the cat." He paused, then added. "It didn't hurt that I had a shotgun."
"No, that didn't hurt at all," Dale said. A small smile crossed his lips. "Also, I didn't want to die alone in the dark." He turned back to the group, "So as you can see, fumbling about in the pitch-black, messing with a cougar's kill --- let's just say that it was more than a little scary. Bears are fairly predictable. Cats? Not so much."
"It's true," Bob said. "I don't know about Dale, but the whole time I was out there I expected to be pounced on by 70 kilos of angry kitty. It was," and he paused here, searching for just the right word, "intense."
"One way to put it," Dale replied. "I was scared out of my wits. Not kidding. Like Bob all I could imagine was the cat watching us from the darkness, and getting pissed because we were messing with dinner. You can believe I dug pretty fast, eh?"
Bob laughed. "That you did!"
Dale chuckled in return. "I was a maniac," he said, and mimicked digging a hole with a shovel at a pace just shy of a blur.
This elicited a few quiet laughs from the room.
"I couldn't believe how deep the cat had buried the calf. Usually they just kind of mound some dirt over the top. Pee around it to ward off any other predators and move on. But not this one. It seemed like I dug forever!"
"Wasn't that long," Bob said. "Just seemed like it was because we were both on the edge of panic. Every little noise and it was 'Whatsat? Whatsat?" he said, sitting up straight on the couch and whipping his head around as if he were hearing things in every direction.
"Finally," Dale said, "I reached the kill." He paused. "Well, not the whole kill. Just the head."
Now if Dale had set out to script a scenario, he could not have concocted one that would have disturbed your Mother more. I finally had to pry her hands off my leg when her fingernails touched each other through my muscle. I had to give her credit. Substitute 'large carnivorus spider' for 'cougar', and I would have been in the middle of the room, jumping up and down, pounding on my head in a full state of 'willie-panic' faster than you could say Bob's yer uncle. Your Mother had chosen to express her fear in a demure form of a slight sweat and a complete rigor. Oh well, I thought, at least it would be easier to carry her to the room with every muscle in her body taunt as a bungee cord on our bike. Light as a feather, heavy as stone and all that. I tried to give her a hug, but she whipped her head to look at me and her eyes said "if-you-touch-me-I'm-going-to-go-all-primeval-on-your-ass-and-kill-you-with-your-own-arm-which-I-will-have-ripped-from-your-body'. As much as that sounds like fun I thought it best to give her some 'space' and retreated as far away as I possibly could given the tight quarters.
"So. That was my most scary moment."
I had to say something. I had to try and cast a glimmer of hope over this whole affair or your mom would never step outside again. If I couldn’t’ get through the fear I would have to have her boxed in the Lodge and shipped home at a later date. I would hope they would remember to poke some air-holes this time. It's one of those little details that's so obvious everyone thinks that someone else has surely taken care of it.
That reminds me. I miss your cousin Molly.
I cleared my throat. Mom didn't even react. Crap. This was more serious than I thought. "So, once you moved the head, did the cat stay away?"
"No," Dale said. "We wound up tranqing her a couple days later and re-locating her a long way away from here. Bears will generally learn to stay away. Cats, just like those little kitties you have at home, are creatures of habit. Once they get something in their head it's hard to get them to change their behavior."
Now, I hadn't realized that your mom hadn't been breathing until I heard a WHOOSH sound as she exhaled. She grabbed onto my arm and made a quiet sucking sound as she gulped the air into her lungs. Dale looked a bit surprised.
"So, once you re-located her, did she come back?" I asked, knowing full well what your mom needed to hear and praying that Dale would figure it out.
"Oh no," he said. "We never saw her again." He turned to Bob and Linda, "have you guys seen any more cats around here?"
"Don't think we have," Bob said, and looked to Linda for confirmation. She shook her head in agreement. "Saw one down on Highway 40 last year, and I've seen some tracks while we've been out and about but nothing close to the Lodge."
When she heard this, Mom sat back in her seat, the fear draining out of her like soapy water in a bathtub and taking most of the color in her face with it. I relaxed a bit as well. She was going to be fine. Such a trooper. I wouldn't have to carry her to the room after all. I believe it was right then, as your mom would explain later, that she developed the philosophy that would be her cornerstone, her rock, her guiding principal for the rest of her life. And that is this: large, carnivorous wildlife is best viewed from a window or on television. Her reasoning was that we had spent thousands of years getting AWAY from these predators and it would be rude and inconsiderate to our ancestors if we didn't take full advantage of all civilization had to offer. Things like doors and locks. Guns. Indoor plumbing. And, because she is your mom, chocolate.
Sidenote: For millions of years we, as a species, were on constant guard. But now, shoot – you have to work pretty darn hard to be eaten alive. It takes some energy to put yourself in a place where you might be food. And people say that things don’t change. Pffffttt.
Those were the highlights of the talk anyway. After we chatted a bit more about the cougar it became apparent that Dale was getting a little tired so he wound things up shortly thereafter. He gathered his things, woke the sleeping Keesha, and shared one more thing with the group.
"Something I forgot to tell you. It might sound as if you're taking your life in your hands every time you step out the door around here. But you know what? Cougar attacks are rare. Really rare. There was a series of attacks in the town of Banff back in 2002, but that was attributed to a single cougar. Other than that, nada. And you know how many bear fatalities there have been?"
Oh, such a leading question. Such a set up. But, and you will be very proud of me, I held my tongue because I didn't want to break the spell. See, Mom was now hanging on Dale's every word. If your mom was going to find an iota of solice in any of this she needed to hear out Dale without any silly diversions from me.
"Anyone?"
When no one answered Dale continued. "None. Not one single death from a grizzly. And here is another thing to think about. There are way more people injured by elk every year than there are by bear. The people that have been attacked haven't been following our 'bear smart' suggestions. So get out there and enjoy the trails and mountains but keep vigilant. Oh! And don't forget to have fun."
A round of applause and 'thank yous' echoed in the room. With a smile and a wave Dale and Keesha slipped out into the night.
I was sitting there, kind of digesting all the information from the evening. Mom stirred beside me and I knew that she was ready to call it a night. We had a long day of riding ahead of us tomorrow, and while we were taking a different route home, which was supposedly easier than the one we'd taken here, we still had no idea how long - or how hard - our day would be.
We were getting ready to go back to our room when Hemp-lady turned to me and said, "Do you know why no one was hurt?"
Now, I could have said any number of things but I was tired as well. Not firing on all cylinders, if you know what I mean. I'd picked up on the fact that hemp-lady hadn't totally agreed with what Dale was saying, mostly due to the heavy sighs and eye rolling, and I figured it was because the grizzly was probably her 'animal spirit guide' or something like that. Usually I would be chomping at the bit to discuss with this woman exactly why her particular philosophy was loopy, but it seemed like a lot of effort for very little amusement. So instead of offering some pithy insight, I simply shrugged.
"God," she said, and shook her head in an all-knowing creepy kind of way.
"Really?" I replied, before my brain could tell me to shut the hell up or I would be here all night.
"Oh definitely. See. . ." she said, and I understood that this was going to go on wayyyyyy longer than I had any interest in pursuing. Damn me and my auto responses! Damnable forced socialization!
"See God has a plan for all of us. That includes bears. If God wants you to be eaten, you'll be eaten. That's that."
She smiled at me.
Like spit on a hot griddle, the room cleared at the first hint of zealotry, leaving only Godly-hemp-lady, your mom, and me.
"So you're telling me," I said, "that you could walk out into the woods with twenty pounds of sausage strapped to your back and if God saw fit for you to live then you wouldn't be harmed?"
"Exactly. God has a plan for us all." She cocked her head to the side, "Are you a religious man?"
I wanted to say 'define religious'. As you know, my allegiance to any one deity wavers with the situation. My prayers are defined in accordance with my needs. Cthulu is wonderful for instilling insanity in my enemies. Vishnu really helps with the multi-tasking and technology. Buddha gets the chicks. Christ is kind of a catch-all. He's always good for a helping hand. As I’ve said many times I tend to identify more with the tricksters. Loki. Coyote. Glen Beck. Pan is just straight out a partier, so he covers things like the weather for weddings or group rides. I also adhere to the Greek and Roman Gods. One can't be too careful. The Sumerian holy-rollers figure prominently in the pantheon of my polytheism. Good ol' northern European Orthodox Paganism is a favorite. Oh! And I also like Pat Robertson and fundamental evangalists, but just for shits-n-giggles.
"Terribly religious." I shook my head in the positive. "Horribly religious," I smiled.
This seemed to puzzle her a bit, but she carried on. "I think the best defense against a cougar or bear attack is to pray and recite quotes from the Bible. It's the Lord's shield."
I had heard this term before. 'The Lord's shield'. Boring. Tell me about the 'Lord's socks', or the 'Lord's grocery list'. Then you'll have my attention.
"Are you versed in the bible?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
Oh my dear, you have no idea. I study the bible regularly online. Perhaps not YOUR bible, but that's beside the point.
"I can site chapter and verse," I told her.
She looked me up and down again and regarded me skeptically. I caught your mom out of the corner of my eye. As you know, her growing up the daughter of a Southern Baptist Minister had left her a bit . . . jaded. She started to stand, in order to physically pull me away from the discussion but I motioned her back down with a slight movement of my hand.
"Really?" hemp-lady said and sniffed.
Sniff at me will you? Oh, that was the third strike for you hemp-Christ-lady! I don't care what anyone believes. Honestly. That is a personal matter for each and everyone of us and is our right. Just as it is my right to think you bat-shit crazy. Just don't force your philosophy down my throat or there will be trouble.
A sly smile, full of righteousness and condemnation spread over her face like ice-cream on a warm laptop. "What's your favorite verse?"
"I'm more of an old-school, Old Testament kind of guy. I like my God angry, ruthless, and unapproachable."
"But that didn't answer my question," she said, believing that she'd caught me in a lie.
"You'd like me to quote some verse?"
“Please," she said.
I thought about just walking away, but you know I can't resist a fanatic. Even one covered in hemp.
"Genesis do ya?"
"That would be fine," she said, never waivering, never breaking eye contact.
"Fine. You want Genesis, you got Genesis. But you'll forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. A few lines or the whole first chapter?"
"Anyone can quote a few lines," she said.
Oh lady, lady, lady. This is going to be ridiculously fun! If I hadn't been the one talking I would have pulled up a chair and brought out the popcorn.
"Okay. Genesis it is." I cleared my throat. "You'll have to forgive my pronunciation. Some of the words are a little foreign to me. Here we go.”
" Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.
Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.
At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.
An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark An not tripz over nethin.
Before I proceed let me just say that I had never been happier to have memorized something in my life. Oh sure, I'd originally committed the passage from the ‘LOL Cat Bible’ to memory simply to annoy the hell out of your Aunt Vicky, but should that be held against me? I think not. Just because you've got a hammer in your pocket and you used it to fix Mrs. Grammerfield's kitchen door, although the hammer was actually there because you were going to go downtown and 'modify' a few windows, should not invalidate the kind deed. Besides. There's always plenty of time for a little 'keeshh! keeshh!' later.
Anyway, I was supremely proud of myself. I grinned the grin of the heretic.
I have no idea why this woman didn't interrupt me. Or, more technically 'smote' my ass. I think she was thrown so far off balance that her brain simply froze. I wish I could describe the look that came across the robed prophet, but alas, words fail me. Let it suffice to say that it was an absolute tidal wave of expression. Confusion. Horror. Revulsion. Anger. Righteous indignation. Anger. Contempt. Anger. Resentment. Anger. Hate. Anger. You know, all those good Christian qualities I've come to know and love.
"THAT!" she spat, "is NOT Genesis!"
"Don't let Ceiling Cat hear you say that. He can be a dark and angry kitteh." I looked side to side conspiritorialy, nodding my head in the affirmative. "He'll tak u 2 da bar."
She became quite calm - a little too calm - and whispered deadly even, "Blasphemer."
Note the distinction of her word choice. Not blasphemy. But 'blasphemer'. One pertains to an action, one to the person. This was turning out way better than I expected!
"Orly? I c wut u did thar. LOL."
Her hands, hanging loose by her sides, now knotted and unknotted like a ball of snakes in an electric current. "You are going to Hell," she sputtered with a grimace that would have made one of Dale's bears head for the hills.
"Probably. But before I go we need to talk about that skin color you've got going on and the uncontrollable shaking. I believe you may be possessed. Possessed by the spirit of Basement Cat. Tell me, have you had an uncontrollable urge to shred the curtains? Steal a cheeseburger? Eets a plant den barfs? Charge yer lazers? Where exactly do you stand on the theosophy of Longcat and Tacgnol? Do you agree that the battle is Epic?"
To give her credit she tried to think of something more to say. She sputtered and worked her mouth up and down like a dying fish in the bottom of a boat. Might have even spit a little. Finally her face went from deep red to purple, and she turned on her heel, and with nary another word, strode out of the room.
As she crossed the threshold I shouted "kthxbai!"
Mom, strangely quiet through this entire encounter, let out a sigh. "Really? Was that necessary?"
"Necessary? Probably not. Fun? Definitely. I totally pwned her. A conversation chock-full of win and fail. Delicious."
"You do know that you are a forty-eight year old man, right?"
"Of course I do."
"And you realize that lolcat isn't a real language, right?"
I eyed her carefully. "Blasphemer."
"Okay fine. Whatever. Let's go get some sleep. But when we get home I'm going to confiscate your laptop." She took my hand and started leading me to the door. "It's a good thing you have me."
"Duh. Like I don’t know that. But why do you think that?"
She stopped dead in her tracks. "Because after thirty-two years even I don't know whether you're completely insane, or just partially. But I would defend you to the ends of the earth," she said and leaned over to kiss my face. She then opened the massive door and pulled me onto the darkness of the porch. "Let's run! I don't want to be eaten!" she giggled and dashed over to our door.
I followed her. A day like today had worn me completely to a nub. A nice shower and a soft bed was what I needed. Tomorrow, we would get up and pack the bike, have breakfast and hit the road for home. It was bittersweet.
And it would be good to get home, back where summer was still in full glory. Not here. Here it was freezing.
And when I say freezing, I mean freezing.
Tomorrow should be interesting. Interesting indeed.
Chapter 14
We bid Adieu
I love the mornings. Well, I love the mornings if they don't come too early. Up here, in the Canadian Rockies, morning came in the middle of the night. So you'll understand why I was a bit flummoxed to awaken to the delicate trilling of . . .
"Crap. Crap crap crap. Double crap."
As I've explained, your Mother has always had a unique way of rousing me, but this was a new one even for her. Perhaps in my sleep deprived state I was mistaking your mother for a disgruntled song-bird.
I yawned and stretched. "Morning sweetie."
I squinted and saw the silhouette of your mom against the windows of the French doors to the deck. My eyes weren't working terribly well yet. The older I get, the longer it takes to fire up the systems. I need an upgrade. David 2.0 to David 2.43 would be nice. Guess I should have purchased the extended warranty.
"Have you seen outside?" Mom asked.
I thought about this for a minute, not quite sure how she thought it was possible that I, in my sleep, had observed the great outdoors. Astral projection is not my strong suit. Or sure, I can get out of my body but then I usually end up stuck in the refrigerator, a sideboard, or between floors. Boring! I decided, and correctly so because it was the start of the day, not to pursue this slip of language and point out to your Mother that until 90 seconds ago my eyes had been closed. But I knew what she meant. She meant 'get-your-patootie-over-here-and-look-outside-because-I-have-to-share-this-with-someone-or-I'm-going-to-bust'. Even in my addled, caffeine-starved state I comprehended that whatever she was looking at couldn't be good.
"Whattsamatta? Something wrong with the moose?"
Please let it be something with the moose and not a bear and a cougar with guns taking turns sitting on the bike.
"No. Just come over here."
It took me a minute because I had to convince my body that moving would be a good idea. All indications were that lying perfectly still would be the body’s choice, but the body knows nothing of the ways of marriage. Finally I managed to stand and hobble-hopped over to where your mom stood scowling. As I got closer she stepped to the side, drawing back the curtain.
Well. Well fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck. Would you look at that.
Snow.
And not just a skiff. Oh no, they do things big up here in the mountains and this bit of weather was no different. No, there was a good three inches covering the deck, the Lodge, the meadow and peaks surrounding the valley. The sky was clear as anything that morning. Bluer than I'd seen a sky in a long, long time. We used to have the bluest skies you'd ever seen in Seattle, but that was back when Perry Como was alive.
The sun, up until now naught but a rumor, was just beginning to rise over a horizon we couldn't see. The effect was the top of the mountains looked like they'd been lit by humongous electric lights. Kind of like the security lights on our neighbor Fred's garage. You know, the one that shines RIGHT IN OUR BEDROOM!!
Which reminds me, I need more BBs.
Just picture it - early dawn, the meadow and valley transitioning from dark to light, and these mountains blazing. Reflecting the fresh snow like beacons. It was breathtaking. I would have loved it more except for an eensie, weensie, little negative thought that had crawled to the forefront of my mind and stuck there like a piece of spinach on your blind-date's remaining front tooth. No way around it, we were going to have to ride the bike through this stuff. Ugh.
"Gah! Snow? Well of course. Of course we would wake up to snow on the day we're to leave." I rubbed my forehead. "No doubt the Park Service has also seen fit to release the pterodactyls and T-Rex on this fine morning as well." I banged my head lightly against the glass of the door. "It is beautiful though, isn't it? You know, in a kind of 'last thing you see before you die' kind of way.
"I have to admit it's incredible," Mom said as I pulled her into a hug.
"But what the Hell? It's August! And mid-August at that. Doesn't Canada adhere to the seasons?"
What kind of a rogue nation fiddles with the seasons? And then it hit me. Wily Canadians, you have suckered us once again with your hellish measurements! What we were experiencing were no doubt kilomonths. Or nanoyears. Or decadays. Bastards. They could warn you when you cross the border, you know?
"Maybe there's some flippin' Canadian season converter no one told us about. Sure, it's mid-August at our house but for all we know it could be late November up here."
That stopped her short. She looked at me with wide eyes. "I'm scared," Mom said.
”Because of the snow?"
"Well yeah. But mostly because you're beginning to make sense."
"It's awful, isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes it is,” she replied.
Poor dear, it's not easy to realize you've stepped through the looking glass.
"So, she said, looking up and down the length of the meadow, "What are we going to do?"
Fine question that. As you’ve seen, your Mother has this unique ability to distill any situation to its essence. It wasn't just the snow that had me worried. We were taking the mythical 'Highway 40' back to the flat-land and I had no idea what we were going to find. I mean, what if these people, in some perverted punishment for us being from THE STATES, had collectively lied about the quality of the road? It might shoot straight off a cliff for all I know. Don't laugh. I've seen several movies where this has happened. Hollywood doesn't lie. And on top of the 'unknown Highway', we had to add snow. Four wheels on snow was bad enough. Take that down to two. The words slippy-slippy crashy-crashy die-y die-y come to mind.
With a sigh I said, "Not much we can do babe. I guess the best thing is to go have breakfast and hope that when the the sun rises high in the sky it will melt the snow off the roads. Might cut into our travel time, but I don't see that we have any choice."
"This has been some vacation, hasn't it?"
"That is has my dear, that it has." I turned away from the door and returned to sit on the end of the bed. "Go take a shower. We'll go grab something to eat and deal with whatever we have to deal with."
As Mom 'made herself presentable', I sat and pondered. I wish I could tell you I arrived at some wonderful realization. Some grand epiphany. But alas, as I sat there all I could think of was 'Well. Guess I'm driving in snow.'
We entered the dining room for breakfast, and there at the table sat Julie and Robert. We took a seat next to them. There were a few other people in the room, but not nearly as many as in the previous two days.
"So," Robert said, "you guys heading home today?" he said, and made a pointed move to look out the window at the snow, then back to me.
"Yeah." I answered and poured myself a cup of coffee. "You guys?"
"We have one more day here," Julie said.
Robert grinned. "How do you think that big machine of yours is going to handle in the snow?"
"Pretty well actually," I said as casually as I could. "I don't think we'll have to deploy the automatic chain system, but we may have to use the in-line sanders a bit."
Julie shook her head. "You have chains for your bike tires?"
Robert and I looked at her in unison, then at each other, then back to her.
"Oh. A joke. I get it."
"Hopefully it will melt before we hit the road. If not, I may catch a couple of moose and hitch them to the front of the bike. They get through the snow pretty well, don't they?"
"Probably," Robert replied.
For some reason the image of two moose roped to the front of the Vision was just about the funniest thing Julie had ever heard. When she stopped giggling she turned to your mom and said, "Oh he's so FUNNY!"
"Oh yeah," Mom said, and rubbed my bald head, a tad aggressively I thought, "it's a laugh-a-minute with David."
"Babe," I said, "that didn't sound entirely positive."
She just shrugged. I would have been upset but it was a fair statement. I don't know if you've ever noticed but I tend to find the humor in any situation. Even when it's not appropriate. As they say, it's always fun until someone loses an eye. Then it's hilarious.
Julie, with a true look of concern said, "Are you guys going to be able to stay warm?"
Mom looked at me. Evidently this was a question that she would like an answer to as well.
"I think we're going to be fine. The Vision has heated seats and grips. We'll layer on as much clothing as possible.." I smiled, but I thought of my mesh jacket and shivered.
I caught Robert grinning.
“At least we won’t have to worry about breaking down or anything. The Vision is remarkably reliable. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a drop of oil from her.”
For a brief instant intense concern rolled over Robert’s face. Ah, another job well done. My work here was finished.
We sat back with our coffee and our tea and watched the sun fill the valley with light. It was GORGEOUS. Morning light on fresh snow - August or not - is a sight of which I never tire. Well, as long as I'm warm and inside a building with central heat. It gets pretty old pretty quick when you're viewing a wonderland like this from inside a helmet with nothing but summer clothes to keep you warm.
The rest of breakfast was uneventful. Delicious but uneventful. I would write an opus to the meats I devoured, a sonnet to the eggs, and a song about the toast but I think you get the point by now. Let's just say that I had fulfilled my grease quotient for the day, and possibly all the days until next March.
We ate and talked, laughed and joked, and when we had eaten the last piece of sausage and drank the last cup of coffee there was nothing to do but face the facts - it was time to hit the road. We said our farewells to Robert and Julie, closing with what every biker says to the other when they part. "Ride safe."
Although Julie had to add, "Be careful on Highway 40. A biker hit a bear down there last week."
Et tu, Julie?
Turned out that Robert and Julie weren't such bad people after all. You know, for BMW riders. And lawyer folk. And Canadian.
Leeza came and sat beside us at the table. "So, you picked a fine day to be heading home."
"We Moores seem to have a knack for that," I said. "I think it's genetic. My Great-grandfather was the same way."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Let's just say that if it weren't for Great-Grandpa Chester, the Donner Party would have waited until spring. But no. He just HAD to convince them that fall foliage in California was a 'must see' experience."
Mom put her arm around my shoulders and said, "That would also explain your love of . . . how would you say it? All things meaty?"
"True sweetie. Too true. Before you judge dear old Grandpa it really wasn't his fault. See, he was also dyslexic. He'd been holding the map upside down. Thought they were going to Vermont."
"You two crack me up," Leeza said.
Oh, a dollar for every time I've head that over the years! Sometimes it was even spoken with a positive slant.
"Do you guys want to pack a lunch before you go?"
"No thanks," Mom said. "Sometimes enticing him with food is the only way I can get off the bike."
"Well, you two have a safe trip back to THE STATES. We really enjoyed you guys staying with us. Did you have a good time? Was everything up to your expectations?"
Before I could answer Mom jumped in, "This has been one of the best vacations I've had. The food, the room . . . shoot, even the wildlife. It's been a great adventure. Hasn't it?", she said, looking at me.
"Well I thought so, but I also am a huge fan of train wrecks and shipping disasters, so I'm probably not a good barometer."
The rest of the staff wandered in and said their goodbyes. It's amazing how attached you can get to people in such a short time. Now that it was almost over I didn't want to go. And it had nothing to do with the snow.
See, I had learned something about Canadus Sapien in my stay here in the mountains. I'd learned that . . . ummm . . . I'd learned that . . . well, I'd learned that they could put up with me for three days, and that made them A-okay in my book. Shoot, even you and your sister can't do that.
Donny was the last to tell us goodbye. He shook my hand so hard I thought I was going to lose a filling.
"You folks take care now. And be careful. A biker hit a bear down on Highway 40 last week."
I thanked Donny for his concern, and Mom and I stepped out of the Lodge for the last time and into the bracing cold.
Back in our room, I turned to Mom and said, "I suggest that we put on as many layers as we can."
"Do you think we're going to be able to make it?"
"Oh, I don't think we'll have much problem, if the road back down is as good as they say. The snow is starting to melt. It should be off the roads in just a bit."
We put on our layers. And more layers. Then a couple more for good measure. Your mom looked like a puffy little snow-woman. I didn't point this out to her.
It's amazing how quickly you can pack the bike when you're wearing three-quarters of what you packed. Before you knew it we were in the saddle, the bike was running, and the sky was blue and stretching out before us like an inverted ocean. True, it was a little difficult to bend my arms at the elbow, and my legs had a tendency to stick out straight from the sides of the bike but those were minor details.
I brought the bike upright, and put the kickstand up. With a deep breath I said "You ready for this babe?"
"No."
"And I can't blame you for that. Just stay relaxed back there and we'll do fine."
"Okay," she said, but I could tell she was less than convinced.
"Before we go, answer me this: Can you feel your lips?"
She pondered that for a moment. "Not really. But it's okay. It will distract me from the fact that we may die at any moment."
I told you she was a trooper.
So with a twist of the throttle, and a mighty 'Heigh-Ho Vision!' I eased off the clutch and slowly rolled through the fresh snow of the parking lot. We stopped and took a last look at the Lodge, at Moose-snot Roost, at what we had come to call 'our valley'. As we sat there a moose walked down the road in front of us and disappeared over the bank to the wallow. The perfect ending.
We slipped a little as I pulled onto the main road but the bike soon recovered. The snow was breaking up as the day warmed, so it was really a layer of slush on top of the gravel. Not too bad for travel. I was a little nervous for the first half-mile or so, but soon was lost in the incredible scenery that surrounded us.
Mom leaned forward and said, "This is magical."
"The scenery or the whole trip?" I asked through a slightly fogged face shield.
"Mostly this."
I would like to be able to tell you that the road back down the hill was as horrible as the route we'd taken up to the Lodge, but that wasn't the case. The road was wide and level with nary a washboard or pothole. The descent was as gradual as a baby's butt, and just as smooth. We made good time and before I knew it there was nothing but small patches of snow here and there. Another ten minutes and the road was completely clear. Five more and we had reached the turn-off to the Highway and the wondrous sight of blacktop. Another ten minutes and I was pulling over to start shedding layers.
"Well, that was certainly easier than coming up the other side, eh?"
"Ya think?", Mom said.
"Well, easier, but think of all of the adventure you would have missed out on if we'd came up this way in the first place."
I don't know what was going on in your mom's head, but I'm sure that if I were privy to her exact thoughts I wouldn't be pleased. Not pleased at all.
Finally, she looked at me with a blank expression and said, "Sure."
We jumped back on the bike and headed for, what even I had come to refer to as THE STATES.
The rest of the trip was pretty ordinary. The scenery was fantastic. As we went south we broke out of the mountains and for the next eighty miles - yes miles, I was heading home to the land of REAL measurement so I could revert to my native calculations - for the next eighty miles we drove along the east side of the Rockies. The dusting of snow highlighted every swirl, every ribbon of granite and crop of rock. Glorious. Rockies to our right, and with no transition prairie to the left. It was as if the prairie, on its way to the ocean, had hit a major block and erupted, throwing its contents into the air. We didn't see anymore bears, or moose, or any other wildlife but we did see many an oil well pumping crude and they do look a little prehistoric so it was all good.
As I drove, I thought back over our trip. The fun, the danger, the conversations. I sighed a little. How is it what seems so difficult at the time later turns into our fondest memories?
Mom had been silent for quite some time. Finally she leaned forward and said, "You know, for everything we've been through this has been the best vacation. Thank you sweetie."
I reached behind and gave her knee a loving squeeze. "So, you're going to let me live?"
"For the time being," she said, and patted me on the shoulder.
She sat back in her seat and after a few minutes leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder again.
"I'm thinking next year we go to Alaska. Ride the highway all the way down. We could take the ferry from Seattle, then cruise back home."
"Why stop at home? I've always wanted to see Mexico," I said through the wind.
"Well, if we go that far, we might as well go all the way."
"Tierra Del Fuego?"
"To the ends of the earth for you sweetie. The ends of the earth," she said, closing her shield and leaning back in her seat.
How could you not love a woman like that?
THE END
***********************************************************
That concludes 'David & Suzanne's Big Frickin' Motorcycle Adventure'.
I hope you enjoyed the ride. :)
Take care,
David
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