I Like Big Butts And I Cannot Lie

*** continued from previous post ***


The boulder approached the road. We approached the boulder. I slowed down so as to not run into said boulder.

The boulder stepped off the slight bank onto the gravel in front of us and promptly resolved itself into a bear. A huge bear. And by huge bear I mean a HUGE HUGE HUGE FRICKIN' BEAR.

I have seen a few bears in my time, mostly through the mesh of a zoo enclosure or painted comically on a coffee mug. Plus, I've watched many, many programs on the nature channels, so I'm pretty much an expert on all things Ursa. Despite my encyclopedic knowledge, and possibly due to the stress of the moment, there are only two things I could remember off hand that pertained to our present situation.

One, this is a species known as 'Grizzly'.

Two, we are going to be eaten.

THE BEAR started to saunter - yes . . . saunter. There was no rush - or if you prefer, 'lumber' across the road in front of us. Did I mention this thing was HUGE. Not like the smaller black bears we will on occasion spot in the Cascades. This was a proper bear. A mighty bear. A top-of-the-food-chain, rip-your-head-off-for-fun bear. And it was female. Probably, if the journey so far was any indicator, PMSing. And more than likely just broke up with her boyfriend that used to ride a motorcycle and was bald and breathed oxygen.

Just - like - me.

Time, which anyone that deals with intense situations will confirm, is not a constant. The flow of time varies with the situation. Here the seconds slowed to a crawl. I stared through the drizzle and realized that the haunches of this beast towered over the height of the Vision by a good degree. If we were sitting side-by-side, and we almost were, I would have had to look up to see her jaws of death.

Lord but this bundle of muscle and ill temper was HUGE.

And I was on a ridiculous motorcycle on a ridiculous day on a ridiculous collision path with this behemoth. She hadn't begun putting on weight for the winter yet, so I could see the muscles ripple beneath her fur with every step. I could see the size of her paws, larger than my head, slap on the wet gravel. I stared, slack-jawed, as her rear haunches rolled and shuddered, slightly swaying from side to side. You should know that in times of extreme stress the mind will grasp at any straw to comfort itself. I am not ashamed to admit, that for the briefest of moments the lilting strains of a song rushed through my head. Sir-Mix-A-Lot streamed like a beacon into my skull, crooning his epic regarding the size and likability of a healthy-sized posterior.

I have just enough time to ponder that I may look into all of those kind suggestions for therapy should I make it out of this alive.

*** the journey continues ***

Do Canadian Boulders Have Legs?

*** continued from previous post ***


We settled back, each in our own silence, the bike humming beneath us. The drone of the engine was rhythmic - melodic. A soft purring lullaby that, were I not running on adrenaline, would have made me sleepy.

We continued on for about 10 minutes, both of us relaxing by the yard, and finally able to appreciate the beauty that surrounded us as we broke from trees to meadow and back to forest again. There was a small creek running through the valley, and a series of postcard like lakes nestled in the low spots. I had hope. So did your Mom, I could feel it in the way she held onto my sides.

We came around a particularly tight corner, the bike slipping sideways a bit as we rounded the apex, and something caught my eye. The stands of trees on my left were sparse with lots of brush and grass in between. The stand on my right was much thicker and denser, almost shutting out what little light was left. I noticed something on my left, and about 20 feet, (Yes FEET! Screw metrics!), off the road.

"Hmmmmm. . . .", I said to myself, "Why would someone park a rusted '57 Buick up here? That seems odd."

I got a little closer and chuckled to myself. Oh my silly, tired, eyes were playing tricks on me. That wasn't a '57 Buick, it was a van abandoned in the woods.

A little closer and I realized that it wasn't an auto at all, but a large, reddish-brown boulder. Which made much more sense except for one thing - the boulder was moving. Rather quickly. And towards us.

And another odd thing . . . this boulder had legs.

Now, I know that things are a tad different up in Canada, but not so different that rocks walk about all by themselves. The only time I saw that was once in the '70s. And I may have been - well, let's just leave that story for another day.

So what fresh madness was this?

*** the journey continues ***