Date: 2005-08-11
From: A campsite near the William Brian

To: Bear Mountain Inn
Miles today: 8.2

Being the last one out of the campsite this morning I was able to move right along. With ¢Spartan¢, ¢Caboose¢ and ¢The Dude¢ ahead of me, the ¢morning sweep¢ of the spider webs and other critters on the Trail was certainly out of the way. Or so I thought!A mile or so from the shelter as I was motoring along down an easy, slight descent on the back side of Black Mountain, my Cerebrum began filtering and interpreting a strange ¢something¢ onto which my right foot was about to descend¢¦ ¢CAUTION, Foot ¢ if you don¢t alter your trajectory, you will soon land in that pile of dung there on the side of the Trail¢¦ no, wait¢¦ that¢s not dung, it¢s some type of brightly patterned trail-trash, maybe a gallon-size candy wrapper¢¦ oops, change that, Foot¢¦ it appears to be a snake¢¦ yes, new interpretive data indicates that it¢s definitely a coiled snake of pretty good size that you are about to engage¢¦ consider this a final immediate message from Cerebrum to Right Foot:¢¦ UNLESS YOU MAKE A VERY HURRIED ALTERATION IN YOUR COMMITTED PATH OF PROGRESS, YOU ARE ABOUT TO STEP SQUARELY ON A COILED TIMBER RATTLESNAKE¢¦¢ Fortunately for me, my Cerebellum ¢ that primeval part of the brain and one of few words but a lot of action ¢ had already taken over control of my entire Central Nervous System and was ¢doing its thing¢ long before my cognitive self was half-way through trying to determine if I was about to step in shit or some variety of ¢it-melts-on-the-Trail-not-in-your-mouth¢ candy wrapper. My Cerebellum knew ¢DANGER¢ by any name, and presumed I was about to land in DEEP shit, and not the ka-ka kind of stuff. It sent an immediate jolt of adrenalin to each individual fiber of my body, yanked hard on every foot-control mechanism possible without causing me to fall which successfully resulted in my pinky-right-toe coming to ground less than an inch away from the balled ¢dung-trash-rattler¢ blob instead of squarely on top of it. As if that weren¢t enough, my old ¢Fight or Flight Center¢ then immediately elected its ¢Flight¢ option (good call!) and somehow in the same single motion launched me straight up into the air into a graceful, twisting, arching maneuver that at first felt like it would take me to the very edge of the troposphere with pack, poles and all, but then quickly parked me, upright, safely four feet away and well outside the snake¢s strike zone ¢ something, in hindsight, that I could never have trusted my consciousness to ever have considered or attempted, let alone have executed with such speed and grace. In less than a nanosecond there I was standing face to face with a 30¢ Timber Rattlesnake (okay, okay: 3¢ ¢Timber Rattlesnake¢) and, most remarkably, I hadn¢t even torn out my larynx with a blood-curdling scream that might have broken windows in the Empire State Building 34 miles away, nor had I sullied my only pair of hiking shorts in the process! I had confronted this dangerous beast of the deep woods and hadn¢t embarrassed myself ¢ how about that?! As a matter of fact, upon reflection, I¢ll bet I had dealt with the situation probably as well as any pre-Bumponian ancestor might have (given that my Cerebellum is genetically connected to them, I guess I should know.)On the other hand, the snake, I must admit, showed absolutely no sign of concern and less of interest. Like a pile of dung or a hunk of dropped trail trash, it just lay there all over itself, doing nothing except flicking its forked tongue in and out. I could clearly see its rattles but it didn¢t even care enough about me and my beautiful pirouetting performance to even shake them once, let alone in time to my airborne version of the ¢Dance of Death.¢ Even when I took his picture with a flash, he didn¢t rattle. Nor did he so much as cringe out a tiny ¢shake-rattle-and-roll¢ staccato when I chucked a couple of pebbles at him from a safer distance down the trail. He just sat there, forked tongue flapping in the breeze as if to say, ¢Ha-Ha! Gottcha! Now move on Buddy, I got another show coming up. You¢ve had your thrill.¢For a moment I felt gypped not to at least have heard a little of that famous Latino castanet-stuff for which his species is named, especially after all that I felt I had gone through for him. But then I came to my senses (or maybe my Cerebellum subtly gave my Cerebrum a good swift kick!) and recognized I was unscathed and alive and very glad of it. With clean shorts, to boot! I decided to move on.Where the Trail crosses the Palisades Parkway I met up with the ¢Three Amigos¢ who had, as planned, hiked a half-mile down the highway to a rest stop to get water (they had, gratefully, taken my 2 liter Platypus bag with them when they left this morning and brought me a supply to last me over West Mountain and Bear Mountain that still lay between me and my ¢trail¢s end.¢) I showed them the picture of ¢my snake,¢ gave them the ¢Cliff Notes,¢ version of the story and bid them adieu as they set out to get to Fort Montgomery before noon to pick up a mail drop and still get to the Greymoor Friary in time to be picked up (by yours truly and my friend, Joanne Fernandez) and taken them out for a long-promised ¢steak dinner.¢I got to the Perkins Memorial Tower on the top of Bear Mountain around noon and drank nearly a half-gallon of cold water offered by the Park Ranger there, then found a shaded rock on which to eat my lunch, dry my socks and shirt and (of course!) take a nap. I headed down to meet Joanne around 2:00 but within 10 minutes had managed to get slightly off the Trail, slip on a rock retaining wall I thought I was supposed to climb down and managed to scrape up my right side ¢ forearm, knee and calf. It really could have been a lot worse, so I considered myself lucky. Before long I was back on track and headed to the First Aid Station at the Park Administration Office at the base of the mountain for some hydrogen peroxide and bandages.Following a cold shower at the Park¢s swim facility I bought a clean tee shirt to wear to dinner and am now sitting on a bench waiting for Joanne to show up so we can collect the guys and find a place where they can do their laundry and I can buy them a good, hearty meal before going our separate ways. I¢ve known Joanne since the 8th Grade and, ironically, it was just a year ago yesterday that she dropped me off at this same place as I headed north for my NY to NH three-week segment. She¢s a good friend. (She¢s also one of the few people I know in the City who owns a car!) Now, where the heck is she?