Likes his boobies blue.
Join Date: May 2004
LOL The story Windy is referring to was when I was a senior in high school. I decided to go cross country skiing in the backwoods around Cashmere, WA, and went hella up Mission Creek. Threw the skis in the back of my '76 Jeep Cherokee, and went for it.
At some point on this beautifully blue skied cold crisp day, I realized that I was laying down the only tire tracks this road had seen in... a long time. Certainly since the last few snowfalls. Decided it was a good time to turn around.
The road was a single narrow lane, with a steep cliff upwards on the south slope, and a steep cliff down to the creek bed on the north. I finally found a little turnout and backed into it.
At which point the roadbed dropped away, and I hit the gas to keep my momentum a bit through the 2' deep snow, which was my downfall. The rear left tire went up and over a big assed rock, big enough to wedge against the lower frame and leave my wheel hanging on the wrong side of a piece of granite. I was high centered.
The other three wheels weren't enough to get me out, with just the snow to grab onto, even in full on Jeep 4WD goodness. I strapped on my skis, and started the several mile jaunt back down the canyon to a friend's house, where I could use the phone and call some buddies to come rescue my butt with shovels, boards, and such.
I'm actually enjoying the beautiful winter day, skiing slowly down the canyon, when I hear something in the utter stillness, up on the cliff above me. It's about 35-40' up, but I *swear* I hear something. I shake my head, and move on.
I hear it again.
It's a soft rustling, but it's getting louder, like it's getting less concerned that I can hear it.
At the next rustle, I snap my head up, and see a tawny head yank back.
Fuck. It's a fucking cougar.
Of all the animals in the wilderness, I fear the cougar. Wolf? No problem, leave them alone. Coyote? Scared little buggers, will scatter at the first noise from you. Bear? Not a worry unless you run across cubs.
But a fucking *cougar*? They will attack a full grown adult for food, plain and simple. And here I am, miles from the nearest other human, unarmed except for a pair of ski poles, and that goddamned cat is much better suited to snow than I am.
Alright, fine. It's up there, I'm down here. It's a long long drop, so I'm not worried it's going to jump down. I'm fine, unless...
Well, shit. In about a mile, the cliff drops down to within about 6' of the road. Motherpusbucket. I'm cat food.
I started out slowly, then *gradually* increased my speed. A sharp burst of speed would be more likely to trigger a predator leap, so I ever so slowly went faster, stride by stride.
At a half mile, I was going a good clip, and now the thing isn't caring if I hear it or not. It's crashing through the brush, keeping up with me.
I go faster.
At a quarter mile to go, I'm going *very* quickly, hoping like hell I don't catch a ski tip on an errant rut or something and go down. The cliff is still 30' up, but I don't trust that I can get my speed back up before I hit the critical zone.
Eighth of a mile left, and I am concentrating on every stride, every breath, every pole plant, and that fucker is now flat out sprinting to keep up, running along the cliff face in full view, utterly unconcerned that I can see it.
100 yds, and I am *FLYING*, full out speed, going full tilt boogie, because the cliff is starting to dip, and I am now a bit ahead of the beast, and mean to keep it that way.
20 yds. It's 20' above me.
I can hear its *paws* at this point, pounding the snow, over my own labored breathing.
10 yds. 15'.
5 yds. 10'.
And just as I hit the nadir of the cliff, just as it is right behind my fucking head...
The goddamned thing *SCREAMED*.
I don't know if you have ever heard a cougar scream, but imagine that at full frustrated volume literally 10' behind your head. Not the short screech of it being in heat, but a long, extended SCREAM of utter anger and murderous intent.
I found that I had a whole other gear I could kick into, and holy shit did I kick into it. I never looked back, I never slowed, I never stopped pumping arms, legs, and lungs.
I went about another mile before I slowed down, shaking. No cat in sight.
I made it down to my friend's house, called my buddies, who came up laughing that I'd gotten stuck. When I told them about the cougar, they didn't believe me.
On the drive up, I pointed out where the cliff dipped down, and we got out to look. Much laughter, until... one of my buddies found a print.
Then another. And another.
The thing followed me a good 100yds, also going full out by the stride, until it finally slowed, came to a stop, and slowly slunk down into the creek to look for other game.
"Jesus fuck, dude..."
We went up, got my Jeep unstuck, and I went home.
But to this day, I cannot hear or even think of a cougar scream without every hair on my neck and arms standing at attention.
My other brain is hung like a horse too.
#IRC isn't old school.
Old school is being able to say 'finger me' with a straight face.
Last edited by Kickaha : 2014-04-23 at 02:20.