I’ve hiked a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I can’t even process how many miles. I walk for miles every day, even when I’m not going anywhere special, so I can’t guess how many I’ve hiked in my lifetime. Let’s just say it’s a plethora of miles.
And in those miles, I’ve run into a moose, a whole lot of “No Trespassing” signs, terrifying dogs, and some really sketchy dudes that gave me the heebie-jeebies. The sketchy dudes were the worst, but I figured that after surviving a few of them, nothing out there could really scare me anymore. I was wrong.
This past week I found myself in Utah on a family ski trip, but because of the warm weather and intermittent rain, we decided to take a day off and explore some other options. One of those options was Woodward, which is a trick-skier’s paradise. It has trampolines, ramps for BMXers and skateboarders, as well as a bunch of terrain park features on the ski slope located behind its core building.
This place is dope and upon seeing it, I wondered how I could start something similar in New Hampshire
Exploring Utah
But I don’t trampoline, or throw down 720 McTwisty double-corks with a half twist of back scratchers, so I thought I’d go for a hike while the boys flipped their way around. Nearby was a small trail called “Bad Apple,” and I figured I’d stretch the legs and give it a gander. Should be easy, I thought.
Before I even started hiking, though, I was greeted with a sign that warned me of the wildlife I might encounter. Having run into a moose before, I wasn’t too concerned about them because the terrain was open and I’d have plenty of time to spot one. I was concerned about the possibility of cougars, though. Yellow tallgrass blanketed the hillside and seemed like the perfect place for a cougar to blend in. Being unfamiliar with Utah hiking, I didn’t know what was reasonable to expect. I was just looking for a casual stroll and now was on high alert.
A bad sign
Bad Apple Trail
Fifteen minutes into the hike up, the dirt changed to mud. It was a ruddy hue, almost burgundy-colored, and quickly made a mess of my boots. But I didn’t care about that. I cared about the five thousand sets of animal prints I saw, none of which belonged to a human. Okay, maybe not five thousand sets, but at least one hundred. They were everywhere. Some clearly dog, some clearly deer, but plenty I couldn’t identify. Maybe a moose? Maybe a cougar? Could that be a cougar’s?
It was a print that looked too close to a coyote’s that made me turn around. Between that and the maybe-cougar prints, I didn’t feel the need to pursue it any further. There was nobody around and knowing my luck, it wouldn’t be long before I rounded a corner where coyotes and cougars were having a jamboree, plotting how they were going to take down the next hiker they came across. So, I tucked my tail and scurried out of there.
Back at the car, I felt kind of silly about it. The weird whooping noises and claps I made on the trail certainly would have been enough to scare any wildlife away, right? Yeah, but whatever. If something doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel right. No need to press the issue. Sometimes you just need to pick your feet up and head to a different trail. And the next time I find myself heading to the Bad Apple (which sounds more ominous now that I think about it), I’ll be sure to bring bear spray, a boom box, and maybe a hatchet.
Stay safe out there!
A pretty passing over East Canyon Creek—if only I wasn’t worried about cougars!