Bride of Sasquatch (Part 4 Washington PCT Section H)

What animal makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a wolf, an owl, and a ghost? You don't know? Me either. But that's what I heard...alone in the dark...in my tent that was full of menstrual blood. I may not have known what animal it was, but I had a good idea what it was saying--"Hey, anybody else smell that? I think something's been slaughtered over there. Let's check it out!"

I wish I could make the sound for you, so you could truly understand how f***ing eerie it was. I've never heard anything like it, and may have even thought I was being punked, except I had not seen even one soul in the previous 35 hours. 

Bear scat on the trail

My mind was doing cartwheels, trying to figure out what on earth would make a sound like that. I'll confess, Big Foot looking for a mate was seemingly the most likely candidate. (I made the mistake of reading a thread called "Have you ever seen a Sasquatch" on my favorite hiking forum, and remembered someone mentioning "strange moaning/howling noises.") I tried to calm myself by thinking of "Harry and the Henderson's", but with no success. I could hear two of them; the second one being a farther distance away. "Please go towards the farther one, please go towards the farther one...", I repeated in my head like a mantra. 

Nope. Of course I eventually heard it close. How close? Who knows, though I could swear he was hiding behind the nearest tree. (And please don't comment that it was an owl, barred or otherwise. I've listened to all sorts of calls on the internet, and I am sure it was not an owl. An extremely low, sustained wolf call was the only thing that came close.) You may be wondering why I didn't make some loud noises to scare whatever it was away; I mean, you'd think common sense and a desire to live would have prompted me to do so. The truth is, I just couldn't. When the forest is so quiet you could hear a mouse fart (apart from the occasional God-awful howl, of course) you feel like you shouldn't even be making breathing sounds, much less any sort of yelling. So how in the hell do I signal to, whatever that is, that I am not something to be messed with? The power of man's red flower! If Disney has taught us anything, it's that animals hate fire; and if you can't trust Disney, who can you trust? ;)

As quietly as I could (I cannot stress enough how badly making any sound felt...I know it does not make a lot of sense, but it was a powerful instinct) I ripped pages out of my book and burned them in my pot just inside of my vestibule, praying I didn't burn my tent down. Crazy, and probably stupid, but it worked. The rest of the night I only heard them in the distance, going in the opposite direction. 

I think I did actually sleep a little, but as soon as there was the slightest light, I was out of there faster than you can say "Don't Sass the Squatch". I hiked for about 10 minutes and found the campsite I was searching for the day before, and would you believe it was occupied?! Such a torturous night, and the whole time I was less than a quarter mile from another human being! Ugh, if only I had persisted. I wanted SO badly to wake whomever was in that tent and ask them about the noise, but it was too damn early. Sigh...nothing to do but keep going. 

The view from the camp with the sleeping hiker

This was my 15 mile day, and I was dreading it. I know a 15 mile day is practically a rest day to a thru-hiker, but I know from experience that 15 miles totally maxes me out. But I had no choice; it was either 5 miles, or 15, with nothing in between. I needed to suck it up and do the 15 miles if I wanted to make it to my car in my allotted 9 day time frame. 

The camp after 5 miles at Rock creek that I had to pass up 

I was almost 10 miles in and through the worst of it when I decided to take a long "sit down and collect yourself" break. It was a thick forest, and I was up toward the top and approaching the ridge where I knew it would get easier. Suddenly I was screaming before I could even process why. Was it a bear? Sasquatch coming back for me? All I knew was that I was startled by the LOUDEST crashing that came barreling down and crossed the trail just 15 feet from me, then continued down the hill...stopped for a second...crashed foward a little further...then stopped in dead silence. I collected my things, and more calmly than I thought possible, went on my merry way.
I was too scared to even try to look down and see what it was, though I doubt with the thick foliage I could have seen it anyway. I had the rest of the day to ponder, and you better believe I thought of little else. After weighing all the possibilities, I finally concluded that it was most likely a huge rock...a rock that would have surely crushed me if I had sat down just a few feet further than I did.

I hate that sort of randomness with life and death. The "if only's" abound; and unlike this time, are not always in your favor. It messes with your head. Ultimately I have to surrender to the fact that there is no making sense of it, or trying to control it. Somehow I need to embrace the beauty and the tragedy of life, and believe that there is meaning in the interaction between the two. But I wrestle with faith all the time, and struggle to believe that "at the bottom of all reality is always a deep goodness" (Richard Rohr's way of talking about God) that I can feel safe with. But all this talk is more suited for my other blog, so I will stop here. Though I still have 3 more hiking days to tell you about, and the best part is coming. You don't want to miss my meeting with "The Norseman", so please come back. He had stories that put my Sasquatch night to shame. (I just love thru-hikers! What a bunch of one-uppers, ha ha!)