Oct 26, 2010

Share a memory about being very scared.

An excerpt from my journal stories of 4H Forestry will best answer this question.

Mines and Mt Lions, Oh My.

Another trip found us about half way up Indian Canyon where we had hiked up the east side of the canyon on the slick shale covered hillside. We were identifying different species of trees and different types of rock formations. We were also collecting samples for our presses. We had actually gone several hundred yards up the side of the canyon and had become somewhat spread out when we heard a very strange sound. I can’t recall what it even sounded like now but I very clearly remember everyone’s reaction. Burt’s reaction was very short but very clear, “Get down the mountain” he loudly shouted and we all started running down the hill. I have thought many times about the incident since that day and cannot recall what the sound was but have often wondered if it was a Mountain Lion or a Bear or something of that sort which caused such alarm in his voice. We never did (or at least none of us young men) ever did identify the sound but it was obvious to me that Burt had and he knew the present danger that it posed.

That day ended up being eventful to me in a couple of ways. In the afternoon on our way back down the canyon we decided to hike up to the old Gilsonite mine, the entrance is still visible to this day as you travel the canyon. The road looked like a trail and from the bottom of the canyon the doorway appeared to be pretty small and so I was worried from the start about this particular event. We started up the hill and I soon learned that the trail was big enough for a vehicle to travel. It had the room for a vehicle although I would never have driven it since it was also not very far before the drop-off from the road was straight down. It was a long hike as well though and took us quite awhile to get to the entrance which when we got there was not only two stories high but each story was probably 10 feet tall. We started into the cave but only a few of us had flashlights of which few I was not one. So I depended on the guy in front of me and at times found it hard to see. I apparently have a bit of a dislike for dark, tight spaces (even though it was ten feet to the ceiling) and became somewhat scared that the water, which was steadily getting deeper on the floor, would suddenly be over my head or that the road which was very level would suddenly drop 150 feet to the next level. All of these were not founded on fact and in fact I learned later from my father that the mine actually comes out the other side of the mountain into what we refer to as the right hand fork of Indian Canyon. I was glad though when Burt decided we had gone far enough and to the dismay of several others in the group had us turn around and go out. It was a short hike to the vehicle and that only because we all pretty much ran back down to the bottom. Twice in one day and each time I had been pretty scared.