He was right here:
33 deg 19 min 24.44 sec N
112 deg 03 min 00.80 sec W
(Go to earth.google.com and get your mind blown for an
hour or two, then find that spot to see where he was.)
He might be gone by now, but I was gone before he had
a chance to decide, so he might still be there.
I was on my MTB this morning (because, as the thread about
my wheel troubles in r.b.t indicates, my road bike was Not
In Service), which I almost never ride.
But I've ridden it 3 times in the past week, so I thought
I'd go a little more technical, and do the whole Desert
Classic Trail through South Mountain Park, which I've never
been able to do on foot. I've done it to the same point
in the middle from either end, but end-to-end is not
feasible in a couple of hours hiking without someone
else's car parked at the outlet.
So I was taking some terrain I've never seen on a bike
before, and doing things much more technical than I've
ever done on an MTB (I've ridden it maybe 8 times since
I bought it ten years ago, almost always on well-groomed
dirt roads or hard, flat, vacant spaces).
And I was just getting back on after hoofing over some
big rocks, and focussing on trying to maintain speed
uphill and pick my line, when there he was.
I don't know what sort of metaphor he started out as: An
exposed cactus root, a buried rock with its spine showing,
two lizards end-to-end. But he quickly became exactly what
he is: A rattlesnake interrupted while crossing the trail,
who coils up in the proper collection of curves to strike
at something least half his body length away.
I stopped a good 5 times that distance from him and checked
him out.
He was maybe 2.5 or 3 feet long, with 6 or 7 sets of rattles,
none of which was making any noise. His tongue was flicking
out of his head, which was an inch or so across.
I wouldn't be any sort of prey to him. He looked like he
would be more interested in the local ground squirrels,
which are like medium-sized chipmunks but are a solid
color like desert sand, and have a scrubby, bristly tail
that sticks straight up like a flag when they run.
But I didn't want to see how brave he'd be in the face
of an imminent stepping-on. And I didn't want to guess
wrong on whether they're as solitary as I think I seem
to remember being told they are.
I've seen a few before. Had two removed from my back yard,
and one removed from the cul de sac out front. Which, really,
is no better than clubbing them with a 9-iron, because relocating
a rattlesnake reportedly causes them enough stress that they
die shortly thereafter anyway.
But this is the first time I've encountered one on his
turf instead of mine. So I let him rule it.
I was near the halfway point for distance, and past the
halfway point for a normal day's ride, time-wise. So
I just turned around and tried to use my new knowledge of
the terrain to stay on the bike a bit more. And it worked.
I didn't pay special attention to looking out for more
snakes. Maybe a good thing, maybe a bad thing. I figure
the greater danger was still from an unseen rounded pebble
on top of soft sand.
Because if I hit one of those, I was sure, I'd have been
dumped into a bush that could have held several unseen
rattlesnakes, black widows, scorpions, and gila monsters.
Like I said. It was a technical ride.
--Blair
"Bicycling is FUN!"