Fairportfan wrote:Saddest deer story in my personal experience - i was coming back from Louisville - or maybe Nashville - anyway, i was on I-20 east coming down Monteagle Mountain.
That is indeed a sad story, but something happened to a friend of mine that put a black-humor twist on the same into-thin-air thing and may lighten the mood a bit, in a bizarre kind of way.
Wildlife encounters on the road are common here in New Mexico. I've hit an elk while driving an SUV, and if you think a deer makes a mess of a car, consider an encounter with something that weighs three times as much. (Fortunately I had time to see it about to happen, and neither car nor elk were severely damaged, although the car smelled of scared elk for about two weeks.) I also nearly hit a deer while on my
bicycle, powering down a mountain hill with my head buried in the handlebars to build up a head of steam for the next uphill. And then, not on the road by any means, there was what happened to Steve (not his real name, for reasons that will be apparent)...
He was rock climbing in the Organ Mountains of southern New Mexico and was seconding a pitch on "Sugarloaf," one of the classic technical peaks there, where his partner led out onto a near-vertical face. The partner is about half way up the lead, everything going routinely, when he forgets one of the important maxims of climbing in the Organs: clap your hands or make other noise every now and then, so that any rattlesnakes on the route will let you know they're there so you can avoid them. So the guy is making a move and does one of those things you Just Don't Do when climbing in the desert, and puts a hand onto an unseen ledge above his head ... only to find that it's already occupied.
From there it came down to a contest of reaction speed, and Steve's climbing buddy won. The snake rattled (polite enough, they don't always do that before striking -- that's another story...), the climber had an "OH CRAP" moment, and he pulled back his hand, resulting in a leader fall, which was no huge deal since Steve was belaying him, after all. However, the snake wasn't satisfied with that response, and it struck at the disappearing hand. It missed, with the result that the momentum of the strike carried it off the ledge ...
... So the next thing that Steve sees as he's catching his pal on the belay is this snake going by, falling 500 feet in free space to the bottom of Sugarloaf.
He didn't let the other guy lead any more pitches that day after that.
There is a sad post script. Steve, who could tell this story far better than I if he was available, would experience the breakup of two marriages in the few years after that incident. Neither ex could live with his Bipolar Disorder, nor succeed in getting him to seek treatment for it, although at least the first one did try. After the second marriage broke up, he went off into the forest with his dog and a hunting rifle. Only the dog came back.
Miss you, guy.