I took a group of Boy Scouts hiking from Cold Springs campground near Sisters, Oregon, to Camp Sherman, on the Windigo trail. A requirement for the Hiking merit badge was completing a 20-mile hike in one day, and this was that day. Shortly after we crossed hwy 20 at Indian Ford it began to snow. As we gained elevation while climbing over the east shoulder of Black Butte we got into 3-4 inches of fresh snow. At one point a set of tracks came out of the steep downhill side waist-high doghair manzanita, traveled some distance up the trail, and then turned off uphill into the brush and jackpines on a very steep slope. Looking down into the manzanita we could see clearly where the traveler had come up thru the dense brush, leaving a swath where the still-falling snow had been knocked off the leaves.
The minutes-old tracks looked like prints from a barefoot human, but they were fully 4 inches longer than my size 12 boots, and much wider. On the trail the stride was about half again as long as those of the 3 adults in the group. We were at least a half mile from the nearest road. Who/what crossed moments ahead of us? Everyone was left to their own conclusions. I will note, however, that several of the teens suddenly had an urgent need to pee when we discovered the tracks, and that night at the Head of the Metolius campground the tents that normally slept two scouts held 4 or 5.
True story. Just as interesting is what happens when a group of mid-teen boys who just walked 20 miles over a small mountain hits the Camp Sherman store. The non-health food was wiped out. I used to have a picture of 4 of them sitting on the porch, each consuming a half gallon of ice cream.
We can talk about the Yamhill Sheriff and the Dolph rock-thrower or the 3-Sisters screamer some other time.
