| The following has nothing to do with skimboarding, and everything to do with skimboarding at the same time. |
The sunshine coast isn’t the skim destination I can sometimes make it out to be. In fact, there are a couple of really cold months of every year when my interests falter and I seek refuge in the forest. So it inevitably seems, I only hike in the winters. All the warmer months I spend on a beach somewhere trying to find some slice of sanity in an otherwise hostile world.
I’ve been traveling in the wild just about my entire life. From what I’ve gathered talking to people throughout North America, every Canadian has a wildlife story or two to tell. My first at 8 years of age; was being charged by an Elk. I learned quickly never to approach the ones that seemed tame. Grazing in the public parks of Jasper National Park. Looking more like part of a petting zoo not the town pests they can become.
In my teens I started tackling the bigger peaks of the Rockies. Often hearing stories of full size mountain lions that roamed the areas I loved to visit. It wasn’t until moving to the Sunshine Coast I actually got to see one. Well two actually. Up close and physical.
Last February, the weekend of my birthday. My lady and I went for a trek up Mount Richardson. Directly located above the Sechelt Inlet, Mount Richardson is a lush green coastal environment which can hold host to nearly any variety of species. Our plan was to spend two nights on the mountain. The first up at the top, and then spend the next day hiking back to our 4X4 below us at the top of a small cutblock. Saturday night was nice; we drank some wine and had a fire, while probably being watched at this point, merely seemingly oblivious chunks of meat. The next morning we woke up to a typical winter storm. High winds sent us down an otherwise sketchy descent through one of the mountains drainages. It was at the end of the sketchy part we decided to sit down and rest. We were a three-hour hike from the truck.
I remember eating a jube-jube and then looking up to see two cougars less than 15 feet away from us. I’ll stop right there and tell you. This is the range at which a cat goes from “stalk” to a burst of power known as “kill”. We were following game trails so I’m guessing these two young cats (about 90 lbs a piece) were curious to see if we could be eaten, or perhaps even being playful!
I told Monique to get her backpack on and head downhill, but not to run. I flipped my adjustable ski pole around and used the handle as a club. Instantly I felt the feeling this is yet another “epic”. . Just great. See when you’re someone who goes into the wild you have to be of the knowledge that you may never come back. My thoughts waver to a woman, a hiker who went missing in these parts only a year ago, she was never found.
“Do I look it in the eye?” I thought. “It’s just a cat, fuck yah! Get mad!” I turned my fear into some kind of rage I have never really felt before. I started beating the ground in front of the cats and yelling at them, more like a war cry, which is hilarious to think back on that image of myself.
One tried to jump on Mo’s pack as she fled and I managed to get between it and her and deliver a couple of blows with my pole. I tried to kick it. The damn thing dodged me like it was slow motion, which was when it seemed like play for them. However, with a full size pack on, we felt slow and out skilled for this. Just after the dodged kick it backed off and I could see the other one trying to flank around and get in front of her. They wanted Monique. “You!! Stop!” I yelled, and pointed at it like Babe Ruth calling his next homerun. At this point I was getting crazy in the head and I would have happily killed me some cougar given the chance.
I’ll skip forward to the end and tell you that this went on for over and hour and a half. By the time we reached the truck we were pretty worn out and roughed up. Not to mention soaked to the bone. With our heads on a swivel we made it out unscathed and forever changed just a little bit. I feel the experience has given us both a strong sense of rising to the challenge and coming out on top. After that experience I couldn’t wait to get back to the relative safety of the beach!
Oddly enough or maybe as a sign from some a higher what not, my camera broke on the trip and took a bunch of strangely distorted pictures. Here are the photos taken before the encounter.
Peace,
Scott Copeland
http://www.mindskis.blogspot.com/
