Always go left

Thursday 5/14/09

It is a bluebird afternoon without a cloud in the sky (Ok. There are clouds in the picture below, but imagine they aren't there). The evenings have finally started getting warmer and the sun hangs in the sky just a little longer each day. It's been a minute (or 4 days) since I've had a good workout and become one with my mother, Mrs. Nature, so I decide to go hiking after a long day of slinging granola.



I start heading towards Red Rocks, but when I come to the point where you have to go left or right, I decided to go right. For some reason if I'm ever in a place where I have absolutely no freakin' clue where I am, I always go left. Always. I could be deep in the woods, on top of a mountain, in the grocery store, doing the "boot scoot boogie" or the "tootsie roll", I always go left.



Well, today I'm going right.

I drive toward Golden, home of Coors, and take a left (see) towards Idaho Springs. There are trails on the left and the right side of the road. Since I am already on the right side of the road and the left side is a little more populated, I pull over and park in an "open air" section of the trail. As I start up the trail I have an odd feeling and think to myself, "I really don't think I should be hiking alone today." But of course, I rarely listen to what I say to myself and I kept a hiking.

Strolling along the hillside and looking at the majestic rock formations that stand before me, I am filled with a sense of peace and great reverence. I also keep thinking, "What if a big ass bear came storming down that hill right now?"

Bear running down the hill towards Slough Creek @ Yahoo! Video

I stare up at the top of the hill and almost see the burly bear and hear his heavy footsteps and angry grunts. And right about the time I almost freak myself out, maybe the scariest moment in my life occurred.

Everything happened so fast that it truly is a blur. But as I am looking up the hill anticipating my death by mauling, I take a step and feel something beneath my feet. I hear the spine chilling rattle of the venomous Crotalus Sistrurus. And out of the corner of my eye I see the horrifyingly unnerving coil of a rattlesnake waiting to strike.



At this point I totally black out. I jump, no less than 5 feet high, and screamed as loud as my little voice box could scream. I jumped downhill a foot and then took off running up the trail. I'm not really sure how far I run, but I reach a point where I have no other option than to turn around. I am paralyzed with fear and start hyperventalating. The tears are coming and I am frightened beyond belief. How far back was the snake? Will it still be waiting for me when I come back? What do I do? I literally could not move an inch for 5 minutes. I start to catch my breath and manage to call someone to calm me down, grab a stick in one hand and a big rock in the other and start tip-toeing back to the area where I thought the creature of death may be lurking. Eventually I get to where I thought the demon beast was waiting to end my short life, I see nothing and take off hauling ass back down the trail.

I make it back to the car and think to myself for a minute, "Maybe there is a god." Then I come to my senses and hop in. Now, you may think that I would feel safe getting back in my car out of harm's way, however I had a flashback of when I was 5 years old and watched "Jaws" for the first time. I was out in the country at my aunt's house watching the gigantic great white shark devour the flesh of innocent afternoon swimmers. By the time the film was over it was dark out and I really couldn't see in the car. I was so scared to put my feet down on the floorboard of the car because I thought Jaws was going to come out from under my seat and eat my legs off.



Now, I was only 5 when I had that thought, but when I got back into my car, all I could think of was that this giant murderous rattler was going to slither out and strike me dead.

Obviously this didn't happen and I became more aware of my delusional fear of dying by a creature coming out from under my car seat and biting me. But the true moral of my story is, ALWAYS go left.