I Guess I Am Afraid of Snakes -- With Rattles

Running on the trails in the canyon this time of year is always a little tricky -- the poison oak is full and blooming, the overflowing creeks from the winter are just now beginning to dry up, and the snakes are plentiful.

I always thought I was afraid of spiders and not snakes (kind of like someone is good at math, but not reading. Usually a person favors one thing or another). However . . .

This morning I passed a friendly, elderly gentleman who bid me good morning and then said, "by the way, there is a rattle snake on the right hand side of trail just about 100 yards ahead."

He seemed so light-hearted about it, I thanked him for the information and kept going -- albeit a little shaky about what lay ahead. Sure enough the creature was stretched out straight across a very wide part of the trail, rattle and all.

I thought, I'll just walk right past it, no fear. But each time I approached, I lost my nerve. I was sweating and cagey -- pacing closer and then backing away. I couldn't remember if the snake could smell me, hear me, or feel the vibration of my feet. Do I scare it away by tossing a rock in its direction, or will that just piss it off? All knowledge of snakes I had collected over the years flew right out the window. The snake was NOT coiled up or ready to pounce (like the one my dog wanted to play with last spring on the trail), so why not keep moving forward?

Finally I chickened out completely and headed back the way I came -- which would have put me back about 45 minutes. This time I saw an elderly woman walking up the trail. I told her about the snake, and that oddly, I was feeling quite nervous. She admitted she WAS afraid of snakes, but that we could do it together.

"Hi, my name is Pat," she said holding out a dainty, wrinkled hand to shake. "Let's go." As we approached the snake, still in its same position, she said, "when I get nervous I always count . . . 1." I repeated her. 2. And as we walked right up next to the snake, counting together, I impulsively reached up and grabbed the back of her sweaty shirt!!

Why on God's-snake-ridden-earth did I think it was appropriate to grab the back of a complete stranger's shirt for my own protection (and an elderly woman's at that!) I have no ideal. I apologized incessantly for my over-reaction. (The snake never budged by the way. Either it was faking, in a deep sleep, or it was dead and someone lay it across the trail as a sick prank).

Pat didn't seem to mind. She encouraged me to count whenever I am afraid, that it is meditative. I then thanked her incessantly and we both resumed our respective paces -- me running ahead of her.

Later, once I was back on the road heading for home, Pat passed me in her car and gave me a little honk. I love elderly people and their bravery. I look forward to growing older and losing my new found fear of snakes, and maybe helping some younger, pathetic person on the way.