Furry 5K: Doggo Volunteer Day

On Sunday, we volunteered at the finish line of the Furry 5K, a fun run/walk around Seward Park that raises money for the animals at the Seattle Animal Shelter.  Normally, 5Ks are way boring because they're just a bunch of people running three miles and who cares about that, but this one has doggos running too and that's way better!  So many doggos!

The Finish Line was the best job because we got to give water to puppos and their people after they just finished running, so they couldn't be happier to see us.  More importantly, the puppos had gone at least twenty minutes without being petted, so by the Finish Line, they were ready for some serious hands-on attention.  We also had purple tennis balls for all the doggos.  They were some happy doggos.  Doggos!

Anyway, less talko, more doggo:

Fast Finisher #1

Fast Finisher #2

Doggo Cool Down

Ermahgerd Cool Down

Babushka Sobachka

Leisure Crew Part 1

Leisure Crew Part 2

Big Doug

Should you ever find yourself in the Seattle area during the time of the Furry 5K, I would strongly encourage entering it or helping out. And if you're not in the Seattle area, I strongly encourage you to look into the events your local shelters are having to see how you can help out.  Doggos and kittehs can't always help themselves, but maybe you can because you're so strong.

Bruise Update, Snake Update

The weekend has passed and it's time for a bruise update.  For those following along, big news from the underside of my left thigh.  Now it has purple striations and I have no idea what that means.  Here's both with and without the Sunset filter:

Sin

Con

Are they bad?  Are they good?  Are they just a way for my leg to express itself?  Why won't my leg just talk to me and tell me what it's feeling?  It's been years since we had a good conversation and it hurts when I think about how distant we've become.  Sure, we're both busy, but it doesn't mean we can't make time for each other.  Were we just friends by proximity?  Friends because there were no other friend options around?  Wow.  My leg's really giving me a lot to think about.  Maybe this just isn't a friendship worth reviving or pursuing.

In other news, holy shit are there huge snakes in New Jersey!  Damian and I hit Gloucester County today for a little late morning MTB, and while normally only concerned with poison ivy and ticks, I now know to watch out for giant Black Racers.  While zipping down Swoopy Trail, I thought I saw an exposed hose across the trail, or some similar drainage/erosion control device.  I didn't think twice, and rolled over it.  While over top, I looked down and realized the thick hose was actually a thick snake, so I slammed on the brakes about ten feet later.  Damian bunny hopped the monster and then parked too.

Upon further inspection, it was a 4-5' Black Racer and it was about as thick as my wrist.  Being a muscly constrictor, the snake didn't even flinch when I ran it over, and didn't really move until after we got close to it and it started to feel either threatened or shy.  I don't have any photos to prove this, but I do have a grainy video from Damian that I will gladly show someone at a bar even if they politely ask me not to.  In any case, I now have one more thing to watch out for on that trail system.  Next time, I'm taking my phone.

Photo from AnimalSpot.net

Fairy Shrimp: What are you trying to tell me?

Fairy Shrimp, aka Anostraca, are weird little critters.  Weird not so much in their appearance, as animals at the bottom of the ocean are far stranger, nor in mechanism of survival, as locusts do that whole seven year thing that I find bonkers.  Think about how much can happen in seven years!  Say you're a little larva that buries itself deep in the ground and then seven years later you decide to come back up for air, but you can't.  Try as you might, you keep gnawing and pushing, but the dirt seems too hard to penetrate.  What happened?  Oh, that's right, progress happened.  You now live under a highway whose pavement was laid three years prior and are going to die before you figure out how to get around it.  Dumbass cicada.

No, Fairy Shrimp are weird because they send such a mixed message symbolically!  What are you trying to tell me, Fairy Shrimp?  What's your deal?

I should probably pump the brakes for a minute.  Ok, here's a little background.  In the precambrian era, the ocean ran through parts of the Pacific and Mountain timezones.  Eventually these waters receded leaving lakes that were reduced to ponds then puddles and finally to waterless deserts.  This is why Utah has such awesome natural rocky structures and why the Black Rock Desert is so alkali.  With Utah, arches and hoodoos were carved by flowing water, and in the Black Rock, living organism turned into dead organic matter with high alkaline content.  This is why skin can seem to get burned by the dust in the Black Rock Desert.  High pH, Low pH, All Bad pH.

Now that we've established the Black Rock Desert is really just a dried out lake bed, we can move onto Fairy Shrimp, the critters that once thrived in the now desiccated lake.  Anostraca are non-domesticated Sea Monkeys (Brine Shrimp).  And just like Sea Monkeys, Fairy Shrimp are able to maintain themselves in an egg state for years (up to eight, or so I hear) without dying out.  But unlike brine shrimp, they aren't sold to children in this dormant state.  No, instead they lie just below the top soil, if you want to call it that, of post-lake drylands.  Those eggs lie there in waiting, resisting the heat of the sun and dry of the air, in the hopes that one day, rain will drench the barren landscape, providing them with enough swimming room to hatch and get their freak on with another Fairy Shrimp before the sun turns their happy home into a fine mist floating through the air.

Actual Size

And that's exactly what's been going on for centuries.  Those little buggers lay dormant for years, heavy rains eventually hit the desert, they hatch, they feed, they breed, they lay more eggs, they die, the water evaporates, and the cycle starts anew.  This takes me back to the start.  What are they trying to tell us with their life's story?  Is it a tale of resilience?  A story with a moral rooted in the importance of persistence in an unpredictable, uncaring, inhospitable environment?  Proof that life is important and strong enough to overcome any obstacle given time and patience?  Or is it an example of the futility and meaninglessness of life?  Their lives are brief and they accomplish nothing other than creating more brief, meaningless lives.  Are you trying to tell me that life is hard but entirely worth the struggle or that to spend time struggling is foolish and that life is an unfair joke?  Seriously!  Don't leave me hanging like this!  Ugh, stupid Fairy Shrimp and your cruel ambiguity.  Fine.  Take your secrets to your grave and see if I care.

Camel Spiders: Scorpion Assassins, Leg Crawlers

Shortly after crossing into Nevada, I needed to take a break.  I had possibly overdone it a bit with the Intense Bold and Stōk, and I needed to get something in my stomach other than coffee and coffee additives.  Fortunately, there was a little gas station/convenience store/bar waiting for me just past the invisible Pacific Time Zone boundary.  Gas station bars are something I don't think I'll ever get used to.  We live in such a strange culture here in the U.S.  We encourage drinking, require driving, and then act appalled when people drink and drive.  How exactly is someone supposed to get home from a bar in the middle of the Nevada desert after they've been drinking all night?

I wasn't sure what I was going to find in that little gas station convenience store attached to a bar, but I figured anything would be fine.  Like, maybe a pimento cheese sandwich?  Nah, that's a stretch outside of the South.  Maybe an egg salad sandwich.  Or maybe even just an egg?  I didn't know, that place was not looking very promising.  It should at least have some old bread, right?

Pulling off the highway and into the sandy parking lot, I parked, hopped out of the Silverado, and headed up to the entrance.  As I walked into the store's fluorescent glow, I found that I was the only customer looking for snacks at that hour.  It wasn't all that late, midnight or so, but that convenience store wasn't all the centrally located to civilization so who knows how many people it saw on a daily basis.  In any case, I strolled into the empty store, and as I took a few steps forward, felt something on my leg.

I had walked into the convenience bar looking calm and collected.  A road weary traveler with time enough for burnt coffee but no time for bullshit.  That façade was quickly shed/torn down by the excited leg swiping that was my instinctual response to the possibility of a tiny insect crawling up my leg.  I don't like spiders!  I don't know how many times I have to tell you this!  Embarrassingly, it's often just a string dangling from my frayed shorts, but one can never be too careful.  Anyway, this is what I saw standing between my legs post swipe:

Solifugae aka Camel Spider aka Sun Spider (Courtesy of People First Pest Control)

Aha!  Justification for dramatic overreaction!  Look at that thing!  It's terrifying!  To be fair, though, and to give some perspective, I guess I should tell you that the one I was looking standing between my legs at was less than an inch long... so... I was a bit bigger.  But that thing is probably loaded with venom, right?

I quickly walked away from that little monster and headed towards the snacks section.  My instincts hadn't been wrong.  My options were limited.  Forced to really search through the rows, I squatted down to see what was on the bottom shelf.  From that lowered view point, I got a good look at the floor, and what did I see?  Another insect monster.  Or was it the same one?  Was it following me???  Oh god, how long had it been following me???  Moab??? Kanab??? JACKSON?????  TELL MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Finding success in a pack of overpriced crackers, I stood up and decided to stroll around the bar store to look for more insects.  You would not believe my relief when I found those little monsters everywhere.  That sounds strange, but it's not.  For one thing, it meant that I wasn't being covertly followed by a death-driven poison bug hell-bent on avenging some wrong that I had unknowingly wrought upon it or its family in the desert.  Second, and more reasonably, if there were a lot of them, they couldn't be dangerous.  Were these critters a danger to humans, this place would've been fumigated ages ago (I assumed).  I headed up to the cashier to both pay for my food and confirm my suspicions.

He told me that they were Camel Spiders, and that they were good to have around because they ate scorpions.  He also said that I should watch out for scorpions because now that it's starting to get cold out at night, they like to get closer to the warmth of the store.  And the scorpions around here were the extra tiny ones.  The kind that put you in the hospital, like they had done to a buddy of his.  Well, that was the fastest I've cycled through fear to relief back to fear in my life.  Thank you, cashier.

After finishing the now dreaded flip-flopped walk through the parking lot to the truck (I really wished I'd had my blacklight flashlight handy), I did some Camel Spider research.  While not spiders, they were arachnids that did indeed prey on scorpions.  I was also able to confirm that they were of no danger (ie. non-venomous) to humans.  I also verified that a tiny scorpion can put you in the hospital.  One less thing to fear.  One more thing to fear.  In any case, this served as a good reminder to ignore the initial impulse to squish grotesque bugs as they may just be very ugly friends.

Around daybreak, I found the answer to the question at the top of the post.  While driving on the two-laned, untrafficked US-50, with the rising sun casting extra long shadows out ahead of me, I saw police lights in the distance.  I hadn't passed or been passed by any cars in quite some time, so seeing the light instantly wrenched my stomach.  I'm not sure if I'll ever outgrow that involuntary response, as I've never had any run-ins with the law nor was I doing anything illegal.  I quickly realized that the lights weren't moving towards me, and that I was moving towards them.  Once I got within a quarter of a mile, I saw the flares and realized this wasn't a traffic stop, but a clean up.  Along the side of the perfectly straight, nearly-abandoned highway was an overturned car that appeared to have, of its own volition, flipped a few times, thoroughly demolishing itself in the process.  Either someone hadn't Stōked their Intense Bold or they had spent too much time drinking at a gas station.  Or maybe it was more sinister.  Maybe that driver had killed the one Camel Spider that had been protecting them all along, and a stowaway scorpion stung their leg, inducing behind-the-wheel seizures.  You can decide for yourself.

Canyon Wren Doppler Song

Have you ever heard the call of the Canyon Wren?  It's probably my favorite sound to hear echoing through roofless canyon tunnels.  My least favorite sound would definitely be the rushing thunder of a flash flood.  Hypothetically, at least, as I haven't experienced that yet.  My current confirmed least favorite canyon sound is thunder.  Definitely have heard that before, sometimes while running top speed over erosion pocketed slick rock through a downpour on the way to a culvert trailhead that really seemed like it was closer but time flies and so does distance apparently.  I still have no idea how Quentin's phone survived that one.  The magic of bricks, I guess.

Canyon Wrens have a song that starts with a bland chirp not dissimilar from many other birds flitting about the landscape.  But their song takes a turn midsong, finding its own unique voice, and becoming distinctive from any other bird I know.  I'm not an ornithologist, though, so I may just be woefully underexposed to avian melodies.  If the song ended after two or three notes, it would just be any other songbird.  But it doesn't end at two or three notes.  Instead it starts with a chirp, and then goes into a long repeating tweet that seems to fade off into the distance, even if the bird is standing directly beside you.  Like its song is a toy train speeding by, down along the canyon floor.  My description is not doing that little bird's song any justice, so here's a clip:

Isn't it great?  Have you ever heard a bird call like it?  Maybe doppler isn't the effect I was looking to describe.  Listening to it now on a computer vs. in a canyon, it sounds more like an engine or turbine quickly slowing to a stop.  As if the song was a fan blade after the switch on the wall had been flipped in a room where inertia was disabled.  Or maybe the laws of physics weren't bent, but the axle connecting the rotor to the motor was.  Maybe the motor's about to fail.

In any case, lying on a slab of sandstone listening to those calls bounce off the fins and mushrooms of a staggered Utah canyon is just about one of the nicest ways to spend some time hiding in the shade from the summer sun.  I'd recommend trying it some time.  Canyon Wrens can be tough to find, but if you're really quiet, maybe you'll get lucky and one will find you.  In the meantime, just set that video to repeat for the next hour or so.  Your coworkers will love you for it.

Best Friends Animal Sanctuary: Day 2

After taking that guided tour of the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, they knew I wouldn't be able to say no to picking up a volunteer shift.  Only a monster would have been able to say no to those adorable fuzzballs that only want cuddles.  The animals, not the employees.  The employees did not want cuddles.  In fact they mostly wanted me to stop trying to give them the cuddles I assumed they wanted.  The cashier was not amused.

So I signed up for a morning shift (8am-noonish) the following day, and showed up a little early, a spectacular feat for someone typically incapable of arising early.  Christmas morning kids would understand.  When I checked in at the Visitor's Center, they told me to leave my trailer down in the huge lot by the horses, as Cat World didn't have adequate parking for that sizable a rig.  This would be my first time unhooking the trailer since Mississippi.  Ok.  I could handle this.  All I need to do is park it somewhere level, put wedges under the trailer tires so it didn't roll, disconnect the electrics, unhook the two safety chains, unpin the hitch stand, lower the stand, unlock the ball hitch, raise the stand over the ball, pull the truck forward, lower the stand so that it was level, and put the hitch lock in place so the trailer couldn't be stolen.  Nothing to it, right?

A surprisingly short time later, I was on the upper canyon, high above the Visitor's Center  in the Cat World parking lot.  I needed to first check-in at the Cat World HQ/Clinic where I was shown a short video about cat handling.  Fun fact: Don't pick cats up by their hind legs like you would a chicken.  I guess chickens really only have hind legs as their front legs are wings.  Or are they arms?  Or are our arms just front legs that are really bad at running?

Cat World is made up of a six or eight or something around there buildings housing over 600 cats (also something around there).  Each has it's own theme, and I was assigned to Colonel's Brigade.  The Brigade, like the other buildings, was a large building that could be broken down into about seven to nine rooms.  The doorways on either side led to a long, rectangular room that served as the hub of the building.  That main room had multiple storage closets, a couple loose kitties, and a prep area with a sink for getting food and meds ready.  Then, all around that long room, were the cat rooms.  Each room had ten or so cats in it, as well as ample sleeping, eating, hiding, and bathrooming areas.  Everything a cat could need.  Those rooms were nice, but fairly boring, almost like they were designed from recycled office blueprints.  But connected to those rooms were the most amazing part of the whole building.  Each of those cat rooms were connected to their own very large, screened-in patios full of climbing structures (large driftwood, cat ladders, cat hotels, etc.) that led to exposed beam ceilings.  But they didn't call them patios.  No, I was in Cat World.  They were called Catios!  How cute is that?  I just want to cuddle that word!  Catio!

The Catios, aside from providing a lot of free space and fresh air, provided something a lot of those rescued cats desired more than anything else: seclusion.  Up in the ceiling, hiding in the rafters, were cats that were terrified of people.  They were all over, and there were even litter boxes and bowls of food and water so the cats would never have to come down if they didn't want to.  The kitties in Cat World were given time and space to acclimate to human interaction.  This is probably why Best Friends has an over 80% placement rate.  They let their cats get used to people on their own terms rather than forcing it.

Hiding out in the rafters!

After checking in, my first job was to take Benton for a walk.  There were only two people working in the CB, and they were busy with important morning tasks, so I think this was mostly to get me out of there hair for 20 minutes so they could get settled in.  At least that was what I thought until I unzipped the front of the blue cat stroller.  As soon as that first tooth passed through the slider, I heard the thump thump thump of a cat bounding down from atop a cabinet.  That was Benton, and he had clearly been waiting for his walk.  He jumped straight into the stroller and I zipped him back in.  I was told to take him on the winding walking path outside and to watch out for rattlesnakes while I did so.  To be fair, I'd been warned about eminent death when I signed the volunteer waiver.

While walking around in the blazing Utah summer sun, we happened upon other cats in strollers as well as some on leashes.  They all looked like they were having the time of their lives!  And they were all being walked by volunteers.  That's why this place was so successful.  There were a lot of animals and a lot of work to be done, but people come from all over the country to volunteer to help make the lives of these animals a little better.  And it was working.

Meowzers Meander??? Are you kidding me???

After a long stroll with Benton (seen above), I headed back to the CB.  Once there, the real work started.  Cleaning litter boxes, emptying uneaten food, putting out fresh food, putting out fresh water, washing dirty dishes, mopping, sewing up holes in the strollers, and more.  Pretty much anything that didn't involve some sort of special animal training.  Other than those jobs, though, there was the extremely important job of playing with the cats.  A very important job indeed, as all of those cats needed cuddles.  So many cuddles!

Aside from just playing with the cats that wanted to be played with, I also needed to put some face time in with the cats that weren't quite down with human interaction.  The rafter cats.  Petting a rafter cat isn't easy, but as with most creatures of some intelligence, bribery could probably get me through the door.  Armed with baby food and a small spoon, I moved the ladder under some of the rafter cats and attempted to grease the wheels of affection with mushy chicken.  I was mildly successful, which was good enough for me.  I would load that spoon up and slowly work my way towards one of the cats, and then, if they didn't run away, let them lick the spoon clean.  I'd do that a few times before eventually feeding them directly off of my finger.  It was real progress for some of them.  For others, not so much.

I say them, but you need to know that every single one of them had a unique name.  There was Darla (she had a smooshed face and a tongue that always poked out just a bit), Corky, Rhett, Nibs (so tiny!), Smoochy, Callista, and many many more.  And it wasn't just that every cat had a different name, each name had a two-year hold placed on it after a cat left (adoption or otherwise).  This meant that Mr. Whiskers would be the only Mr. Whiskers for at least two years after his departure.  That is some serious dedication to critter naming.

My four hour shift flew by in no time at all, and before I knew it, it was lunch.  This was when I found out that Best Friends Animal Sanctuary has a $5, all-you-can-eat, vegan buffet at lunchtime.  What???  Was I in heaven?  Had a died?  Did a rattlesnake bite me a few hours back when I was walking Benton?  Does time continue seamlessly as our consciousness evacuates our dying bodies?  Does that mean we have souls?  If we do and they maintain consciousness, why do we even need bodies?  Is it to dance?  I heard it's to dance.  That seems silly.  But then, a lot of silly things are fun.  Like pogo sticks and Halloween.  No, I wasn't dead.  I was hungry, and why would a disembodied consciousness be hungry?  Duh, of course I was alive.  Also, consciousness ends when we die.  It's a function of your brain you dumb doy-oy.

Before I left for lunch, my two CB leads asked if I wanted to work the afternoon shift too.  There wouldn't be any other volunteers in that day, and I just couldn't imagine those cats not getting vigorously played with, so I said, "Of course I'll stay!"  My original plan was to do a morning shift and then leave for Capitol Reef, but Capitol Reef was just going to have to wait because I was busy hanging with some cool cats.

This is how cool cats hang.

Best Friends Animal Sanctuary: Day 1

Once again, I struck out at the NCB lottery.  After having such a nice night outside of Coral Pink SDSP, I had high hopes.  High hopes that quickly diminished, as failure was all but guaranteed upon arrival, with the parking lot (empty the day prior) almost completely filled.  This nearly full parking lot gave me a new reason to dislike certain drivers, specifically those who park their little coupes in the extra long trailer parking spots even though normal-sized spots are still available.  The lengthwise equivalent of parking in two spots.  I crammed into the last available trailer spot, the one right next to the light pole that I didn't want to take because I was pretty sure I'd side swipe the metal post with the trailer as I attempted to pull out of the lot.  The small cars that occupied the other trailer spots looked so roomy and comfortable that I almost wanted to light them on fire.

Anyway, having struck out once more, I brushed my teeth in the parking lot, made some breakfast, and planned my day.  Having made the drive to the dunes the night prior, I passed two signs that piqued my interest (for two very different reasons): 1) Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, because I want to pet every animal, and 2) Moqui Cave, because I love tourist traps.  This post is about the prior, as the latter is a waste of both time and money, and not in a good way.

Cleaned and fed, I headed back up US-89 to the BF Animal Sanctuary hoping to make some furry friends.  I had no idea what I was in for when I turned off the highway and headed toward Kanab Canyon/Angel Canyon.  I didn't know that I was heading into the most magical place on earth.  Disneyworld doesn't have shit on the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

The road in wound high through red canyons, passing staff and guest housing, and led to a massive field alongside a trailer-friendly parking lot.  Horses were milling about in the field, with workers doing work things with them.  I parked and headed straight up to the visitor's center, eager to get to meet a non-equine critter.  It's not so much that I'm disinterested in horses as I am leery of them.  They are giant animals that could stomp me into the ground if they so desired.  I respect their sized and prefer to steer clear.  I've ridden one once as an adult.  It was disconcerting.

After climbing the canyon stairs leading up to the visitor center (with a relaxing koi pond), I saw herds of people and charms of hummingbirds.  Did you know that's what a flock of hummingbirds is called?  I didn't until just now, moments before typing it.  I really could've called it anything and you'd have likely taken my word for it.  Maybe it isn't actually called a charm and I'm pulling one over on you.  In any case, there were multiple feeders under a shaded deck along the visitor center, and hummingbirds flitted about, alternating between feeding on nectar and scaring away other little HBs trying to get nectar of their own.  Apparently HBs are territorial little buggers and can get pretty vicious in defense of that sweet sweet sugar water.

Hummingbirds!

From the vantage point of the VC, it was obvious that the Sanctuary is in a very special place.  Angel Canyon is a sprawling pink and orange canyon, not dissimilar from the canyons throughout Southern Utah, but instead of remaining untouched (conservation through desolation), the Best Friends had built their sanctuary harmoniously into the canyon (conservation through appreciation).  The main road horseshoes through the sanctuary (built on and in the canyon), passing open fields and a natural amphitheater, and gaining elevation as it climbs the canyon its natural curve.  I had come in at the bottom of the canyon, and beautiful as it was down there, it didn't have anything on the scenic overlook up above on the other side of the shoe.  The sanctuary was built in the type of canyon I love to hike in.  Animals and canyons!  It was perfect!

Situated on close to 21,000 acres, the sanctuary is home to over 1,600 animals (mostly temporary, some permanent, never kill).  These animals are then within the following species-based habitats:

• Dogtown
• Cat World
• Horse Haven
• Marshall's Piggy Paradise
• Bunny House
• Parrot Gardon
• Wild Friends

These different areas are separated so that animals don't have any interspecies overlap, which could be especially traumatic for rescued animals that may have spent most of their lives being abused.  Aside from the specific-specific habitats, there is also a clinic for animals needing extra help as well as special plot named Angels Rest and Memorial, which was where any animals that passed before finding homes were laid to rest.  I wanted to see everything, and fortunately for me, they offer tours of the sanctuary.

After saying goodbye to the hummingbirds, I headed in to sign up for a tour.  I was an hour early for the next tour, so they gave me a map of the facility and showed me where a nearby trail was that I could kill some time on.  The trail was supposed to end at some petroglyphs, but I read the map wrong, so once I ran out of time scrambling about a sandy canyon, I headed back for my tour.

It's a Catio!  Get it???

Two hours later, I was pretty sure I wanted to stay forever.  So many animals!  Dogs!  Cats!  Everything else!  Even horses... Apparently some of the horses had come from BLM round-ups.  After wild ponies are caught by the Federales, some are brought to Best Friends to be domesticated.  What they do is put the wrangled pony in a low-walled stabled out in the horse field.  Then they bring out a domesticated horse and have them meet over the wall of the stable, with the tame horse out in the field.  Over the course of meetings, the tame horse teaches the wild pony how to be human-friendly.  Once tamed, the horse can be placed in a home.  I never cared that much about horses until now!

All the little towns and worlds were set up so perfectly for the animals with ample space in each facility, areas to run around outside on leash (or in a stroller), and most amazingly everything was so clean!  I know people with three cats that smell like they have 300, so the fact that their different cat facilities with 50+ cats didn't smell bad was impressive.  On top of all that, I learned about their 80% animal placement rates and lifetime return policy in cases where families decide that they can't keep a pet!  How was this all possible???  For the sake of keeping this from growing any longer, I'll answer that question next post. 

When I got back to the visitor's center, they asked if I wanted to sign up for a volunteer shift during the week.  I now knew why I didn't win a NCB lottery permit.  I was going to spend my last full day in Kanab playing with kitties, not hiking The Wave.  That made way more sense.

Asheville or Bust: Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Night 8 - July 28, 2016 - Johnson City > Asheville, NC
This was it.  My last day on the road for a while.  Well, last day on the road on a bicycle for a while.  In about 70 miles, I would be sipping Piña Coladas on the beach in Asheville.  Just like in the Jimmy Buffett song.  Yup, only 70 miles to the promised land.  Only 70 miles through the mountainous Cherokee and Pisgah National Forest.  Yup, only.  Oh, and it was raining.

Fortunately, I had about 25 miles of flat before the mountains started, giving me some time to ride out the rain in the Cherokee National Forest.  It was in that flat, dark, damp National Forest that I had a close encounter of the chuffing kind.  I had to take a quick pee break, so I pulled off to the side of the road, propped my bike up against a sign post, and ventured into a wooded patch so as to stay hidden from any late night drivers with halogen high beams.  The area I headed off into was near a small creek, and while I stood there taking care of things, a loud grunting noise came from the woods not too far off.   I instantly assumed it was a razor-fanged bear, engaging a primal survival reflex that clamped my ureter shut.  Apparently I didn't have to go that bad.  After hightailing it to my bike, I headed south less afraid of the impending vertical doom and more so of the potential furry doom.

I later spoke with an animal expert friend who explained that the sound I'd heard was chuffing (a non-threatening greeting), not grunting, and that it likely wasn't a bear.  In fact, it was more likely to have been a badger, muskrat, otter, or weasel, especially considering there was water nearby.  I still think it was a bear and that I had once again slipped through the icy grasp of the grim reaper.  Not my first bicycle bear, nor my first badger.

Around the 21 mile mark, I reached Erwin, TN, the last stop for a soon-to-be weary, southbound, uphill cyclist.  After grabbing a coffee and stowing a Skittles reward for when I reached the top of the biggest climb, I started the ascent.  I had four ascents ahead of me, actually:

1. Miles 21-22: 250'
2. Miles 23-30: 920'
3. Miles 31-38: 1600'
4. Miles 41-44: 500'

It was on that first climb that I had my second animal encounter of the day, this time with a juvenile opossum.  As I slowly chugged up the hill, there it was, all fuzzy and creepy faced in the middle of the shoulder.  Not one to be bullied out of a lane by a rodent, I hollered at it to get out of my way.  In response to my request, it froze in place, playing possum.  I was forced to ride around it, as it never moved the entire time that I watched it, bringing me to a point learned a few months back.  In North America, we have opossums, not possums.  So that opossum was not playing possum, it was oplaying opossum.  I have used possum wrong in the past, and I will use it wrong in the future.  Much like when pronouncing Pho.  I know that it's 'fuh', not 'foe', but everyone else calls it 'foe', so why rock the boat?  Also, if you think our opossums are creeps, check out Australia's phalangeriformes.

After that, it was climb, climb, climb in the dark, dark, dark, winding through the heavily forested and appropriately designated Pisgah.  There was even a real butt of a climb just before reaching my third summit involving a 100' climb over .1 miles.  Mathing that out, it appears to have been over a 17% grade.

Going up that third summit, the sun started to rise, exposing the animals that had remained hidden under the cover of night.  While riding past a wide field, I noticed a large deer standing and staring at me.  He was a few hundred feet away and was not breaking eye contact.  I wasn't sure why he was staring or what he wanted.  Was it my bike?  Why would a deer even want my bike?  I'd let him try to ride it, but I doubt he'd get anywhere.  Oh man, I would feel like an idiot if that deer actually could ride a bike and he took off with all my gear while I stood there incredulously.  Anyway, we stared at each other for a while before I finally rode past a large patch of tall bushes that were obscuring three other deer (including a baby) from my sight.  That papa deer was the decoy, and the others had been walking away from me towards the safety of the woods.  Once they caught sight of me, they took off, only needing a few leaps to reach the tree line.

After the deer I saw a baby cow sleeping in a field.  It was adorable.  Here's a picture of that baby cow:

Baby Cow!

After all the climbing, I was beat, but I still had about 25 miles to go.  I was done going upwards, though, and that was as good as being in Asheville, even if the sun was already out and starting to roast me.  Those last 25 zipped by effortlessly, with the only memorable aspect being my last animal encounter of the day.  I watched two hummingbirds fly around seeming to kiss each other, doing what I hoped was a sexy, flitting mating dance.  This was probably not the case, though, as hummingbirds are fiercely territorial, and the kisses were likely beaked assaults.

By the time I reached Asheville, all of my climbing sweat had evaporated and been replaced by summer sun sweat which was then washed away by Asheville rain.  It does that a lot in Asheville.  Between the rain and sweat, there's just no way to stay dry.

And that was that.  The end of the southbound ride.  I only went half as far as I'd planned, but it was as far as I was willing to go.  Aside from my new knee brace, everything went as well as I could have hoped.  I didn't die and I saw some things.  Good enough.

Animal Crash Concerns: A Breakdown

When asked recently if I ever worried about crashing into a deer or some other wild animal while riding late at night, and the answer I gave was a definite no.  The reason I never worried about it was because I'd never really given any real thought to it.  But since I've been asked and am now thinking about it, yeah, that sounds pretty awful.

Squirrels - Risk: High, Danger: Low
I have never run over an animal with my bicycle, and as far as I can remember, I've never hit one with my car either.  That said, I do know of at least one person that has hit a squirrel with their bicycle, and while they still feel bad about it to this day, they were in no way injured as a result of that vehicular rodent homicide.  At an average of 1lb, even a large squirrel would be a hardly noticeable bump if one was riding with their eyes closed.  Overall, it seems that running of a squirrel is only damaging psychologically/emotionally, not physically, and even then should incur a low level of psychic damage, as squirrels often run into you rather than the other way around.  In other words, they made the conscious decision to run under your bike, so it's their fault, not yours.

Cats - Risk: Low, Danger: Low to Death
As a cat owner, this is a tough one to consider.  If you're a dog-person riding on an unloaded bicycle, a low wheely or beginner bunny hop could get you through a cat without sustaining any real damage to you or your bicycle.  Now if that bike was fully loaded, the best bet would be to ride straight through the cat and hope that you don't skid out on any entrails or get something in your eyes causing a loss of bicycle control.  If you're a cat person, in either case you are likely to swerve wildly, losing control of the bicycle, wiping out, and in the process, losing a fair amount of leg skin.  Worst case scenario is that you swerve off the side of a narrow road and plummet to your death.  Seems very unlikely, though, as most cats will avoid you like the plague.

Dogs - Risk: Medium, Danger: Low
I think we can all agree that dogs are pretty dumb.  Dogs will get in your way for one of two reasons, either they want to lick you (right dog) or they want to bite you (wrong dog).  From my experience, most dogs just want to get within five feet of your bicycle and bark until you're off their turf.  Making actual contact isn't a priority, and in a lot of cases, completely avoided.  In either case, as dumb as they are, they have no idea how mass and velocity relate to force, and this can be a real problem for you.

The amount of damage you're going to sustain really depends on the size of the dog and its intent.  Small licking dogs can usually be avoided without much swerving due to a lack of speed on their part.  Small biting dogs can be run over with cat-level damage.  Large licking dogs can also usually be avoided and are often scared off with a simple "Git," command.  Large biting dogs, though, are the real problem.  Stay on your bicycle at all cost and keep your bicycle moving in a straight line.  If a large biting dog is able to grab hold of your leg, your danger rating is going to quickly move up to High from both slamming into the ground and from the painful clamp of locking jaws as they attempt to rip your leg out of socket.  Remember, if a vicious dog is able to lock onto you, you always have the last resort of a what this lady did.  Overall, dogs likely aren't going to do much more than bark at you.

Raccoons/Groundhogs - Risk: Low, Danger: Medium to Rabies
These little guys are pretty avoidable, but in the off-chance you do hit one, it probably won't be head-on.  Smarter than the average squirrel, which will run confusing circles in front of you, these critters take off in one direction.  If you should hit one, though, you're definitely going over your handlebars if you can't get your front wheel up.  Raccoons are not small animals and groundhogs can get mighty thick.  Your best bet for this is to yell loudly before you're near them, as the only time they'll get near you is if they don't realize you're heading their way.  Should you yell, and instead of running away from you, they run towards you, then you're dealing with rabies.  Get away from that animal.

Deer - Risk: Low-Medium, Danger: High
This is the animal that started it all.  Pennsylvania highways are littered with deer all summer long, and the thought of hitting one with a bicycle instead of a car sounds just awful.  Flying down a hill in the middle of the night and slamming into a deer?  Oof.  Internet says male white-tailed deer average out around 150lbs, but I think the average deer would be fast enough to get out of my way.  To me, it seems more likely to hit a deer that was bigger and slower, which would put them in the 300-400lbs range.  That's the fuzzy equivalent of a brick wall.

While I've seen plenty of deer over the years, the only time I've been close enough to touch one has been when I snuck up on it around daybreak.  Deer are hit by cars for reasons that don't apply to bicycles, and hit bicycles for reasons that don't apply to cars.  When a deer sees and hears a car, it freaks out, runs around confusedly, and gets hit.  With a lack of sound and light, bicycles appear to be standard predators, which cause either a flight response or a decoy response (in the case of parents with babes).  In either case, they will not run at you.  Of course, there are exceptions, which will put a cyclist in a dangerous situation.

When deer do hit bicycles, it's usually because a cyclist is in the middle of the woods.  Deer encounters are more of a risk for MTB folk, but even then, the risk is low.  Mountain bikes are not quiet as they crash through the woods, providing plenty of warning for deer.  As with all animals other than dogs, your best bet is to be loud if you're worried about an unwanted encounter.

Here's a deer trying to eat my hand after a ride.  I miss those gloves.

Bears - Risk: Low, Danger: High to Death
A bear will not think twice about Revenanting your ass if the conditions are right.  If you surprise them, you will be Revenanted.  If you get between them and their young (most often without even realizing you've done so), you will be Revenanted.  If it's late in the season and they haven't eaten enough to hibernate, they will Revenant you and then eat you.  If you should find yourself within arms reach of a bear, there are no two ways about it, you are in trouble.  In a worst case scenario, just remember this simple rule: 

• Brown Bears - Play dead.  Brown bears are gigantic and you cannot win.  They will beat you around until you're no longer a threat and then leave you to die.


• Black Bears - Fight back.  While still large animals, they are around Las Vegas bouncer size, so you have some chance.  Also, these critters will not just walk away from you the way a brown bear will.  

Fortunately, bears can usually smell you from miles away.  Especially with that long haul armpit stank you've developed on the road.  Bears want nothing to do with you 99% of the time.  At most, a juvenile may show some passing interest but will then see some berries and remember that berries taste better than people.  If you should find yourself alone in bear country and are genuinely starting to worry, simply start yelling, "Hey Bear," every minute or so.  Bears will hear that and either head the other direction or stay where they are, but with the knowledge of your presence.  It's infinitely better for a bear to know where you are than to surprise it.

Moose - Risk: Medium, Danger: Low to Death
Moose are dumb, blind, possess no fear, and have the potential for great violence.  Luckily, their lack of fear also leads to a generally docile nature, as without fear, there is no anger, hate, or suffering.  A large moose is close to 7' tall and weighs upwards of 1,500lbs.  If you should ride into one of these at top speed, they will not even flinch as your internal organs turn to mush.  Alternatively, should one attack you (don't go near their babies ever), they will stomp on you until you are dead, and then they will continue to stomp on you until every last cell in your body has been returned to an atomic state.

Most often, though, moose will not even acknowledge your existence as you pass them by.  Having no fear of proximity, moose are often seen on the Anchorage Coastal Trail and in Kincaid Park, sometimes munching on trees right along the different trails, and very seldom do they ever acknowledge a cyclist's presence.

Don't try this at home.  Try it in the woods.

Animalia Miscellanea

• Both mountain lions and coyote will attach children.  For this reason, it's best to not have children.
  


• Giant snakes can be found across America.  I've even seen them along the side of the road as far north as Wisconsin.  Make sure to always keep some live mice in a pannier to use as a distraction, should you ever need to venture into tall grass to relieve yourself.
  


• Skunks are very active from late day to early morning.  They will put their butt up in their air as a warning before they spray, so if you see buns, give it room.
  


• Turtles are dumber than dogs.  If you find one in the middle of the road, stop, pick it up, and move it 10' from the road with it's head facing away from danger.
  


• Antelope are really fast.
  


• Badgers are the coolest.  If you see one, stop to take pictures.