Camper, West Coast Trail – Dreams fever the damp night. In one, Rachel Carson reminds me of the conventional wisdom: never attempt Owen's Point – the route's highest evacuation point – on a rising tide. I wake, convinced to go inland.
I am alone in this resolve. My friends want to race the ocean.
So I trudge into the blowdowns alone. And man, does it suck. For two hours, I tag along with some Canadian women, until they start surfing the seaside algae. I watch a few pratfalls, then mouse inward again.
Footfalls echo behind me.
I stop.
They stop.
I walk.
They pad forward.
"Bearcougarthing go away!" I yell with more verve than I feel.
Hush.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEEEEEER!"
Did the monster eat you?
ReplyDeleteBeen smoking something illegal when you wrote this, petal?
ReplyDeleteUgh, I was stalked by a cougar once. It's cuh-ree-py.
ReplyDeleteTamara
Nothing so exciting, dahlinks. A big mammal stalked me – possibly a cougar, as the WCT had its first cat prowl about a week later – then I stomped and yelled until it buggered off.
ReplyDeleteReally, did you think I sang the beer song for fun?
yes
ReplyDeleteThe beer song if, of course, great piles of fun. But "99 Bottles" is the classic breathless-hiker-making-noise anthem of the NW...
ReplyDeleteTamara, where did the cougar stalk you?