Big Mountain. Big Rain. Bigfoot.

My real time running buddy Butch asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, and I said, "One of three things . . . no particular order, no preference of one over the other -- a hike to Lost River, a bike ride or a long run."
"How about a sandwich in the car after church, a hike in Lost River and dinner after?"
I agreed.
So we did, arriving at Lost River about 1:30 p.m. Before we were even out an hour a storm threatened and we waited out that storm, which ended up being just a heavy rain, in a shelter along the trail.
Then we set off again. We encountered a fuschia fungus, an orange lizard about an inch long, a turtle, a woodchuck, a deer. . .I said to Butch, "I sure HOPE that deer is the biggest thing we see." Bear scat along the trail was a cue that it probably wouldn't be.
We kept going, across a road, down Howard Lick's Trail, down a primitive road and up another trail.
"I don't know if this trail actually gets used. It appears that the only thing that keeps it open is frequent rains, and that then it becomes a stream," I said.
The trail got even smaller and rougher. He was getting a bit nervous, unsure of our route (as was I). We made it to and saw the overlook that I so much I wanted to see, that we couldn't find last time. The view was worth the 3,706 foot ascent; I took some awesome photos. But then things went downhill real fast.
We saw a large black cloud rush in. We scurried off but couldn't run; the trail was too rough for that. As I said, we had seen bear scat so we watched carefully for wildlife. Thunder rumbled toward my right, and that black cloud just kept coming closer and closer, as did a couple streaks of lightening. And then I saw a large black "cloud" on my left, about 20 feet away moving along the ground. I stopped and wondered what a dog was doing out there in the woods, and looked for its human. And then I realized what my mind hadn't accepted.
"That ain't no dog!"
I just froze, and watched this black bear walk first parallel to the trail, keeping pace with us for a few feet. Then he made a left turn, away from us, and lumbered over and farther up toward the ridge we had just left. As his backside ambled off, I realized he looked just like something I'd seen on a Discovery or National Geographic clip. That close encounter was all of about a few seconds probably. Butch, who was behind me at that point, froze when I did and looked in the same direction, but he didn't see the bear ... he believed me though when I told him what I saw.
At some point during the hike, I realized that nobody knew where either of us were, as neither of us thought to let anyone know (although I have no idea with whom I'd have shared the news). And with the kids gone, nobody would miss me till Tuesday. No one was expecting Butch until church mowing time Wednesday or Thursday; and his son usually only calls every couple weeks or so, and he'd called the Sunday before. I figured people wouldn't find us until after the buzzards did!
About then the storm hit full force and Butch asked rhetorically, "Are we okay here?"
Ignoring his attempt at humor, I answered, "No, absolutely not. But at least we're a lot farther down from the ridge. I'm looking for cover. . .I'm open to ideas."
"I think you're in good with the Guy Upstairs, and this would be a good time to start talkin' to Him," he answered.
"Been doin' that," I said. "If we can get to the rocks, we can hide under one of them till this passes" (In one section of the trail, we had seen a bunch of huge boulders scattered along the hill, kinda lookin' like Paul Bunyon had been tossing rocks like boys do -- I was thinking a section of that would make a nice "cave" -- if we could just get there fast enough). By this point the rain had become a deluge, a regular gully washer. Every now and then a gust of wind would send a cold chill on our already soaked skin. The trail DID indeed turn into a stream, about a foot wide. I tried to straddle it, not that it made any difference. My shoes were sloshing from the water inside. A couple loud thunder cracks and a couple close lightening flashes, and then the storm turned and rattled away.
When we made it to "Bunyon's rock quarry," I asked Butch if he wanted to wait it out, but he said to just keep going. I agreed, as it seemed the storm WAS moving away by then.
We reached the car, and the clean clothes we'd brought along, about 6 p.m. We literally wrung out our dripping clothes after changing into dry ones. All in all it was a 4 1/2 hour adventure.
It's funny. . .e-mails and phone calls later proved that people did have us on their mind. "Mom Bragg", my brother, and a couple friends e-mailed between 3 & 4 p.m. Butch's son called twice at 3 p.m.; since there is no signal at Lost River, I didn't get that message till later (I'm sorry, Lee). I realized all those e-mails and the call came just before the most dangerous point -- when we made the turn to go up to the overlook, and things started getting dicey. I like to think that maybe folks were asked to pray for us.