Here is a story I would like to share with you. Please share one of yours with me, and tell me about your resolve to protect the other species we share the earth with.

Unexpected Visitor

With summer over and fall well under way, I moved from northern British Columbia back to my parent’s home in southern BC, just 10 km from the United States border. I had a great summer as a ‘para-attack’ firefighter which involved parachuting out of a plane at low altitude to fight new wildfires before they got bigger. I had always wanted to hitchhike on a long trip, so I parked my truck at my parent’s place and began my 2,700 km trip back up north to the Yukon – in November.

I had great luck getting rides in the lower half of BC and managed to find my way to Prince George, ‘PG’, with just two days of hitching rides. I enjoyed the company of the unique characters I met along the way. I stayed in PG for a couple days with friends and then got them to drive me north to a remote spot down a logging road, where I determined that a regular freight train service passed by a couple times a day. I said goodbye to my friends and then travelled down the tracks for about a kilometer where I would hide in wait for the train. As there was a nice bend in the track at this location my thought was that the train would be travelling slowly and I would be able to jump onto a passing car and ride it somewhere north. I would figure out how to jump off later.

As the train approached I readied my backpack and stretched my legs. I let the engine and several box cars pass so I would not be detected, and then I ran full speed toward the train, determined, back pack bouncing on my back. As I neared the point of contact I abruptly stopped, I couldn’t follow through. My instinct kicked in, it wasn’t a conscious decision, the train was too fast and my pack was too heavy to make the jump safely. The risk of injury or worse was too great. I didn’t need the prize that badly. Disappointed, but not defeated, I remained determined, and waited in hiding for the next train – 3 hours away to try again. Unfortunately, my long wait was in vain and my dreams of riding the rails would have to wait for another time – the train was again too fast and my footing in the snow and ice not sure enough to make the jump with a heavy pack. As the next train was not until the following day and the dusk of a short November day was quickly coming upon me, I headed up a nearby mountain to find a place to sleep for the night.

I found a nice camping location where I started a fire and set up my tarp and a sleeping bag in the downslope dip of a big tree. After a dinner of dried food I got cozy in my sleeping bag and watched the stars and pondered my attempt to jump the train. Perhaps it was unwise, maybe I shouldn’t try it again? The danger of this prize was too great. Just about to fall asleep, I was alerted by some noise deep in the forest around me. Something was running and cracking dry branches as it ran. The sounds started and stopped and got closer to me. Over several minutes I stayed alert to the periodic sounds that suddenly grew very close. My heart began to race and I checked for my only weapon; a knife and an axe for cutting fire wood. The noise became loud, close, and there was more than one animal. Suddenly two deer darted out of the woods in front of me, illuminated briefly by a partial moon on the otherwise pitch black night. I sighed some relief and settled back into my sleeping bag – ready for a good night sleep and an early morning start at the crack of dawn.

My fire was now down to a few glowing embers, and safe to ignore for the rest of the night. Darkness engulfed me. As I lay in my sleeping bag, about to doze off, I heard a small branch break far behind me, and up the hill. Thinking back afterward, I realized I may have heard other small sounds that had not registered with me. There are lots of small animals in the forest and a night outside without the sound barrier or protection of a tent, is to sleep among them. But, now I was alerted once again. I moved my sleeping bag down to my neck and lifted my hat to expose one ear to give me a clear receptor for other noises. It was a long wait, I almost dozed off, but several minutes later, another snap of a branch, closer, and then silence. This sequence repeated itself several times until all doubt was erased. I sat up. Hat pulled up, I listened with both ears, not worried about the -10 degree night, and considered my situation. I would love to call this my imagination, but the facts say real! The night was silent, no wind, and no other sound. And then I heard it, a small snap of a branch behind me, closer yet, and the possible sound of an actual foot step. Something was approaching me, I had to act! It had been about an hour now since I heard the first sound behind me. Whatever was there, it was moving slowly toward me, trying to be as silent as possible, but heavy enough to break sticks as it carefully shifted its weight; it was methodical, determined and incredibly patient to get close without being detected. I quickly got out of my sleeping bag to free my arms and legs, and reached for my axe. I banged it loudly on the side of a tree while speaking loudly and deeply to make myself appear as loud and menacing as possible. As I banged the axe, the head fell off and bounced into the darkness. I lunged forward and quickly found it, placing it back onto the stock of the short handle. This was serious. My trusty axe would not help me tonight.

Whatever was there was now close behind me. I was deep in the woods, far from help. No one could even be sure where I was; perhaps bundled up in my sleeping bag on top of a rail car heading to places unknown? I knew better than to run from what was approaching me. I had to face it. My heart pounded and my adrenaline spiked. I didn’t carry a gun, ever, and I always camp with just a tarp and a sleeping bag – no tent to hide in. At that moment I remembered that I had a flare. My dad had convinced me to bring a bit of safety gear. I started pulling things out of my back pack and was relieved to find that it was actually there. In a moment of great intensity, I fumbled in the dark to light the flare, my knife ready if I should need it. I lit the flare and it lit up the forest. With flare in one hand and knife in the other, I screamed at the top of my voice and ran full speed around the tree to confront the unknown. Five meters ahead stood a large cougar, crouched and intent. We locked eyes. Without a break in momentum I ran toward it and my destiny.

It disappeared in an instant into the forest. It was my lucky day!

I yelled and grunted and receded to my camp. Quickly, very quickly, in the darkness of the forest, knowing that somewhere close by was a hungry cougar, I grabbed my things, stuffed them in my backpack and headed down hill in the dark. Had he given up, or just changed the angle of attack? I had taken a compass bearing before setting up camp so I already knew which way the road was. I moved quickly through the forest, actually really fast, watching my back, and front and sides as I navigated my way to the only safety I knew, a remote logging road in the middle of the forest. A little oasis of human habit where perhaps my chance of survival was greater. My instinct told me to go there. My headlamp was near dead and burned dim, so I wanted to make it to the road before the flare extinguished into the black of night. About a kilometer down I intersected the road and as I stepped onto the road my flare went out.

I walked down the road in near pitch black except for the shine of a partial moon, and a headlamp that seemed to cast faint dancing shadows as I moved my head. I turned it off to save juice for when I might need it again. I could just distinguish the dirt road from the forest. My body was pumping with adrenaline, ready to fight anything that threatened me; it would have been a bad time for a human to surprise me. I walked down the dark road for seven kilometers until I found what I was hoping for, a small piece of human habitat, an abandoned car. I jumped in to sleep the night, but it was a long time before I slept. My survival mechanisms couldn’t turn off that quickly and so I waited for my heart, muscles and blood to return closer to normal.

Later the next day as I continued my journey that would last 33 days I contemplated the life of that cougar. A highly trained hunter, stealthy and cunning. It lived in the forests and must be well aware of the movements of humans, yet most will live their lives unseen by humans. By chance occurrence human and lion coincided in time and place that night but the opportunity for food wasn’t worth the risk of a fight and the mountain lion wisely declined. At that moment of confrontation I had transformed from adventurous human to full animal survival, and I knew the only way to survive a cougar was to fight to the death. There was no other choice. And at those moments in your life you learn more about who you are. Perhaps the cougar was just curious, but the evidence suggests otherwise. Living a mostly solitary life, avoiding humans and hunting its primary big game, deer. It must have been hungry to stalk me. I hope it finds food soon. Every meal for a cougar requires a death. I feel privileged to have had such a close encounter with one of the most elusive animals in the Canadian wilderness. I slept in the wilderness again the next night, to calm my anxiety of the drama of the previous night, and to regain my love of the closeness with the natural world. I know that few people would do what I do, but for those who do, all over the world, I am your kindred brother.

Maxx Bouillon, 23 years old, winter hitch hike to the Canadian Yukon