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I learned what to do when I find myself face to face with one of the massive black bears that own this territory, how to identify calls and tracks and scat, and which creatures are best avoided and how to make sure I avoid them.
The more time I spend out here, the more comfortable I get. My family can't believe that of all us kids, I'm the one that grew up to be the hardcore hiker. The guy that throws his gear in a pack and heads out over the mountains for weeks at a time whenever time allows.
Which is exactly what has me out here for the next few days; making my way up the old road from the edge of our property where I plan to skirt the boundary of the weeping wilderness till I get over the saddle and down to Angel's Lake.
The old road isn't much of a road at all after being abandoned almost a hundred years ago. There's still a faint trail marking the old route that used to run over the pass but the road that originally connected us to the communities on the west side of the range was rerouted in the nineteen thirties, despite the cost and labor that went into cutting new trail into the mountainside to the south to create a viable path where nature never intended one to run.
That's what happens when a rich man's daughter joins the list of women gone missing on a road with a dark history.
Reaching the point where the old road used to run through the dense thatch of forest that stretches over the mountaintop, I stop to chug some water from my bottle and appreciate the views of the valley below.
Then I turn off what remains of the old trail to skirt the edge of the forest.
I might not be scared of what lurks in these mountains like I was as a kid, but you can fucking believe I'm smart enough to respect the boundaries of the local wildlife's established territory.
There's a reason that forest is called "weeping wilderness" and I might not be a woman, but I don't see any reason to push my luck.
Respect the mountains and they'll respect you-- that's how I see it-- and that means the mountains can have those woods.
I'm about a quarter mile from meeting up with the main trail to the lake when I hear something unusual coming from somewhere nearby.
It's not one of the sounds of the mountains. Not an animal or wind rustling through pine needles.
Stopping to give it my full attention, I realize it's coming from somewhere beyond the perimeter of the woods; the rather distinct sound of a woman's sweet voice singing
The sweet songbird singing the familiar tune-- and the fact that it's coming from far enough beyond the tree line that I can't see the source-- is enough to turn me off my route.
She shouldn't be in there.
2
FINCH
When I run out of lyrics that I remember to the older song, I switch to Taylor Swift. Not that my singing voice does her justice, but at least I know all the words.
Getting the cameras set up would be so much easier if I had help, or a ladder. Hauling a ladder up here was not an option; as for help?
Maybe once I get some video that the university doesn't immediately dismiss as fake, I'll find someone who doesn't think I'm a laughing stock. In the meantime, I'm on my own.
A rustle in the forest behind me has me suddenly feeling like I'm very much not on my own, however.
My first thought is that it's probably a deer. Moving slowly so I don't scare it, I turn to look in the direction the noise came from.
Not a deer, something bigger. Through the trees, hovering in the shadows, something massive stands perfectly still and watches me.
My pulse races and my lungs freeze as hope soars when I make out the outline of a large, human-like creature.
It's the right shape. It's the right size-- for a youth or a female, maybe-- at well over six feet tall with a massive shoulder span. It moves slightly, and I catch a glimpse of thick facial hair.
My nerves tingle in excitement. This is more than I could have hoped for.
"You shouldn't be here alone," His voice resonates through the thicket, carrying a note of concern.
My hopes crash. It's just a man.
Well, not just a man.
The man that steps out of the shadows and into full view is nothing less than a bona fide mountain man.
