a sad goat that just wanted to buy a one-way ticket at the greyhound bus station and go home, maybe buy a little place in port angeles on the west side of town by shane park where they play softball in the summertime under the lights and then drink beer afterward
Today I took the boys up to the Cascades for a summit that was fairly adventurous for Oliver Fern, there was some exposure involved with just a bit of easy class 2 climbing. After lounging atop for some time, we made the surprising acquaintance of a mountain goat recently relocated from Olympic National Park, it was wearing a bulky box around its neck, ostensibly for tracking-purposes but which instead gave it the appearance of a demented funhouse mirror Saint Bernard in the Alps. What a mangy, ugly fellow it was! It had fearsomely sharp horns and part of me was nervous it would pin us down in a bad spot, during the mildly hazardous portion of our descent. The boys and I filled our pockets with rocks and just like that our heretofore uneventful summer turned positively interesting.
Alas, we descended with no drama. After prolongedly sniffing the rock upon which my stinking, sweaty Hunt’s Manwich manbutt had been parked for the past hour, the mountain goat wandered in the opposite direction.