(SitNews) Ketchikan, Alaska - During our last reprieve from atmospheric distress, I felt obligated to get to the top of Deer Mountain and actually see something other than fog. There were already a few cars at the trailhead and I caught some hikers in a few minutes.

There really is no safe, easy way to let people know you are behind them, because hiking is typically a solitary endeavor...unless you’re on a main trail in a place like Yosemite.

With the lingering thought that there could be a bear, deer, mountain goat or angry big foot around any turn, a loud noise can make the self-preservation, or frozen-in-terror, response of your fellow hiker kick in and all bets are off.

A few years ago I was riding my bike in California and as I was about to pass a walker, I assertively announced I was on her right. She panicked at the unsuspecting sound, turned, assumed a textbook defensive stance with arms out, screamed, then froze directly in my path. I avoided her by going off the trail and almost into a tree.

That always comes to mind when I hike or bike, so Saturday I slowed my pace and kicked my feet a bit so my presence was noticed. It worked. They turned curiously, we conversed briefly and I went along my way.

When I reached the exposed face just past the spur trail to the summit, I saw a pair of goats on the nub just past the shelter. I pulled out the camera, focused on one and started shooting. My lens wasn’t good enough to make the goat fill enough frame, so I closed the gap. The goat didn’t seem to mind. It had the high ground, but it did keep its eyes on me. When I was close enough I took some better shots, but it was clear unless I went crazy stealth, went way off the trail onto the still-wet spongy slope with intermittent stacks of settled rock, I wouldn't get the shot I wanted.

However, given my inexperience with goats and my knowledge of how any creature responds to being surprised, I thought it best to not harass it. I’ve frequently tried to communicate with animals before, but with limited success.

So I let it go and continued my hike.

My buddy Danny co-owns a coffee business that’s a clever pairing of coffee and weight-training, specifically CrossFit. So I figured I’d do a little advertising for him with some of the gear he had sent. I arraigned a few of his company hats on the edge of a cliff to prove that ownership of the hat would enhance lives.

A gust almost took one of the hats over, so I rushed to the edge, grabbed it and decided to take a peek. I grabbed a little branch because though it would do no good if I slipped, it provided the same sort of comfort a sheet does when you’re afraid of the dark.

I leaned a bit and saw the goat. I had unintentionally gained the high ground, but could not safely get any closer. There was no way I could set the timer on my camera at that angle, and my discomfort of heights forbade me try a goat selfie. Well maybe it’s not heights so much as falling to my death. I think that’s a more rational fear than elevation itself. I also firmly believe that if one is not trained to do ninja things, one should not try to do ninja things.

Anyway, I stuck the hat out and took a picture with the goat in the background as proof I was sorta close.

On the way down everything looks different. You look up on your way up, and down on your way down. Ketchikan was a long way down but looked like if I ran and jumped, I could tackle it.

I decided not to. Wouldn’t want to startle it.

Jeff Lund ©2014

Jeff Lund is a Teacher, Freelance Writer, living in Ketchikan, Alaska
Follow him on Twitter and Instagram @alaskalund
Contact Jeff at Email – aklund21@gmail.com

http://www.jlundoutdoors.com

SitNews ©2014
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Ketchikan, Alaska

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