Okay, RealSoonNow I'll write up a proper introduction on how the FOT list
works, how to make address changes and such. For the moment, though, I'll
relate a tale about cats. Big cats, that is.
This may come as a bit of a surprise to those who've seen me in person the
last decade or so, but I used to be quite an avid, fit and trim rock climber.
One spring some of us went down to the Kolob section of Zion National Park
to do some cragging on the sandstone. One day this fellow and I put up a
new route on this rather worthless and non-descript canyon wall. Most
likely it will remain the one and only ascent of this particular pile of
miserable sandstone rubble.
At any rate, we top out and start looking for an easy way down. We pick up a
faint trail through the scrub, and follow it. Other faint trails join in,
the path gets more distinct as we go along. We're walking along a fairly
clear, wide trail and come up to this one corner of an outcropping and remark
that the area is starting to smell like a giant litter box. We round the
outcropping and find ourselves on a nice sandy ledge. Well, kind of nice.
The cat urine aroma is quite strong, we see the ends of various bones poking
up through the sand, and there is a dark and sinister cave under the ledge to
the right. We left in a BIG hurry.
In the decades I've spent climbing, skiing and generally hanging out in
mountains around the West, I've had some close calls, a chance or two to
shake Death's hand but slip away before getting formally introduced. And
in most of those instances I was worried, frantic, or just distraught.
But coming around that outcropping to find myself in a big cat's front
parlor I was *scared*
I still think that if the resident of that den had been at home at the
time, I would not be alive today.
mjb.
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