So I made my way back up along the tracks. Now I am following the mountain lion, and none too pleased about it. This isn’t Yellowstone. I’m used to being the apex predator around here (albeit a mostly vegetarian one). Speaking of which I’m getting kind of hungry, but am afraid to sit around much in this neighborhood. I skin up to the little lake above, and sit down in the middle of it, where I can see anything approaching from any direction, and I eat my PB&J, head on swivel, skis off and at the ready to use as weapons if need be. I ruefully envision the mountain lion casually sauntering up, batting the ski out of my hands, and eating me.
