Page 5 of Ten Mountain Men

There’s a sharp cramp building in my left shoulder because my gear is heavy as hell, but I press on. Onward and upward! I forgot to fill up my canteen, so I’m parched. But water is near! Water, and my hero.

Since they don’t exist—ha! Yeah, right—no one knows the life expectancy of a Sasquatch. But my Bigfoothasto still be here. It’s more than just the documentary—I never got a chance to thank him.

The bobcat, Bigfoot, looking death in the face, and then being carried to safety. What happened between being rescued by the Bigfoot and then arriving back to my friends is kind of a blur, though they swear when I got back to them I was all alone. They saw nothing, except that I had wet pants. Worse, they thought I was making up the encounters! Both encounters—the one with the bobcat and the one with Bigfoot. They thought I was just embarrassed that I’d peed myself and trying to make excuses to save face.

But I’ve never questioned my own experience. I know what happened.

Up ahead, there’s a clearing. Sunlight filters through the foliage, shadows dappling the forest floor. The perfect campsite. I hurry forward, my arms spaghetti noodles as I finally set down the tent I’ve been lugging, and the backpack, and the small cooler. The relief instantly spreads through my whole back.

The crisp air carries the earthy scent of pine needles and freshly fallen leaves, and I take a deep breath, inhaling it all.

Okay, it’s more like a wheeze. That hike was way more strenuous than the spin classes I took back when I used to worry about my less-than-petite size. And that’s saying a lot, because Jason was a fierce body coach.

Looking around, I shake out my hands, trying to get some feeling back in my fingers, the chilly breeze reminding me of the coming winter season. I’m so glad I waited until fall was in full swing. It’s gorgeous.

Pulling out my phone, I’m not surprised there’s no service. But I am disappointed. I’ve been working hard on my social media presence, and a stretch of not posting is likely to cause a significant dip in new followers and mess up the algorithms. I’ll just have to make sure I have loads of content for when I get back to civilization, in case I don’t ever get a signal up here.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice for your art.

I take some photographs, which I’ll edit later, and after touching up my makeup, I shoot a couple of quick videos to establish both the setting and my plans. I do several takes of each, so I can decide later whether I look better with or without the safari hat. Either way, my waist-length blonde curls look amazing highlighted by the sun. Unfortunately, the same sun makes me squint, so even though I’m a firm believer in making eye contact with my audience, my sunnies are necessary.

I’m using my phone camera now, but I have professional videography equipment—the very best—including my small, high-action camera (no blurry Bigfoot footage for this professional), and a slew of tricked-out hidden cameras that I plan to distribute throughout the area later. They’re tiny and disguised as things like snails. So clever. Even if I don’t spot Bigfoot with my own two eyes—though I plan to—I’m going to get evidence of his existence one way or another.

“Look at this scenery!” I say, holding my phone up and swinging it around slowly. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Autumn has always been my favorite season, but up here, it is truly something else. I’m going to pitch my tent and then I’ll be back…”

My voice trails off because I hear something in the near distance. I put a finger to my lips, even though there’s no one but me to make a sound, anyway.

A series of deep grunts rumbles through the trees!

My eyes fly open, and my heart skips a beat. Is it possible? Could it be my Bigfoot? Hope and exhilaration replace fear as I imagine the possibility of encountering the legendary cryptid, again, not more than two minutes after arriving at my campsite.

I hear something else mixed in with the grunts. Laughter?

I spin around, excitement coursing through me. But there are so many trees…something or someone could be hiding behind any one of them.

My heartbeat quickens. Could it be another bobcat? Or maybe a playful raccoon? Didn’t I hear somewhere that coyotes’ calls sound like creepy laughter?

Hopefully not a coyote.

Hopefully not a bear.

I hold my breath and listen. It’s definitely laughter, but not the kind that belongs to wild animals.

I eagerly head in the direction of the sounds, keeping my phone up in front of me, set to record so I don’t miss anything. But I’m also grabbing for the high-speed camera at my neck, searching for the power button and pressing it on with my shaky fingers.

Suddenly, I’m caught in a tangle of fine, sticky near-invisible strands. It takes me far too long to realize I’ve walked face-first into a spiderweb.

A shriek of revulsion pops out of me. Holy shit, I really hope that spider isn’t in my hair! Shuddering at the thought, I swipe at my face, wiping away the clingy, nasty threads with trembling fingers.

But I have to get a grip, so I take a deep, shaky breath and right my phone, which is still on record. It’s a good thing I don’t have reception and therefore couldn’t go live, because that probably would have gone viral for the wrong reasons.

The grumbling, grunting, laughing noises are still going on, along with splashes—lots of splashes. Deep echoing ones, and I remember a swimming hole in the river…

Excitement builds in me again as I hurry toward the sounds, and then catch sight of movement—lots of movement through the trees. But my joy is dashed when I see the line of trees thinning ’til they’re basically gone. Well, shit. I won’t be able to hide in the wide open!

Creeping as close to the tree line as possible without totally exposing myself, I pocket my phone and switch to my high-speed, shockproof, waterproof action camera, zooming in as much as possible and holding my arm out, watching the screen as I center on the figures.

I stand, unblinking. Holy smokes. Holy shit. Their constant movement in the water makes it hard to focus, but even so, their big, burly, hairy bodies are right there on the screen.

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