August 1 2015

I leaned backward, grabbing a tenuous handhold as I carefully shuffle sideways. I’m traveling down the cliff traverse, a vertigo inducing section of Pyramid Peak’s trail. It’s not known as particularly dangerous, but I was climbing alone. The traverse itself is about fifty feet long with an equally long drop, and the trail’s width drops to about a foot or so at the midpoint.  At the thinnest section, the rock juts out, forcing a hiker to lean back. As I crossed the thin section to safer ground, the knot in my stomach dissipated. Thirty feet and a tricky step later, and I was past the traverse. I was in the clear, having passed all the serious exposure on the climb. I looked back up at the summit, its repeating steep terraces of crumbly rock behind me, barbeque and an afternoon nap in front of me.

When I turned around, I saw two white shapes meander out from behind a rock. It was a big male mountain goat. It was standing a hundred yards down the trail eating lichen with his mountain goat girlfriend. I continued down the trail, prepared to take an alternate route to avoid provoking the happy couple. As I got within fifty yards I realized that I would have to go a little off trail. I had piqued the interest of Mr. Goat and he seemed to be moving to investigate. The male goat was huge and ornery looking. I continued scrambling down off-trail, cutting back to the marked path after about three minutes of scrambling. I turned around to take a picture of the mountain goat. It was standing twenty feet away, head cocked, looking very annoyed with me. I kept walking down, throwing glances over my shoulder at the goat.

     The goat kept approaching. I was starting to panic. On Pyramid Peak's terrain, I would rather have encountered a bear. I fumbled for the bear mace in my pack. It stared at me as I pulled out my mace. I knew capsaicin, the main ingredient in bear mace, is painful to most mammals, but I had no idea if it would actually stop a charging mountain goat. I tried not to trip as I backpeadled down the steep trail, my body facing the goat and my mace at the ready. The slope of the mountain meant that one good headbutt could send me for a serious tumble. I was alone, with no cell service. After four agonizing minutes, the goat stopped following me. He turned around, satisfied that I had gotten the fuck off his lawn.

One time I almost maced a mountain goat right in the face for no reason. I was probably never in any serious danger, but the goat was.

"Sometimes they follow people like that." Said the ranger who I reported the incident to. I didn't tell him that I had almost given the goat its lifetime pepper intake in the form of a convenient spray. While mountain goats can be aggressive, if they're following you, they're probably more curious than murderous. A hiker still shouldn't get too close to them. If you're sharing a trail with a four legged mountaineer, remember that the trail belongs to the goat because the goat lives there and can jack you up.

        I won't get into bears, because everybody knows to stay away, but North America has a heaping helping of large mammals that are both adorable and can kill you. The first things that come to mind, besides mountain goats, are moose, elk and bison. They’re all huge and they can all jack you up. The big danger for moose are off-leash dogs, who moose can’t distinguish from wolves. They’re also super aggressive when they’re guarding their young, like bears. Bison are also at their most dangerous and territorial when guarding their young. Whether or not their tails are raised are a good indicator of whether or not they’re agitated. According to Counter Assault, the biggest bear spray manufacturer on the market, bear spray works on almost every mammal. However, before you drop the hammer, remember how painful bear spray is to an animal. It’s basically super-mace.

Anyway, one time I almost pepper-sprayed a mountain goat right in the face. Also, we’re adding haikus to all our articles.

The backcountry bar

I packed way too many beer cans

My legs are burning