When he saw the twitching tail in the grass, Ken Campbell knew he was on the lunch menu.
He searched his memory for the warning on the information board at the trailhead of White Ranch near Golden. Make noise. Appear large and ready to fight. Don’t turn and run.
So the 38-year-old mountain biker from Aurora raised his bike over his head and screamed when the mountain lion crouched into stalk mode a mere 30 feet away. He threatened the cat. Pretended he wasn’t afraid. The cat turned and disappeared.
That was three years ago. This June, Campbell got another chance to hone his mountain lion evasion strategy. He was in southwestern North Dakota, riding the 96-mile Maah Daah Hey Trail, helping a friend change her flat tire. He saw a slinking movement up the hill, only 40 feet away. He knew that graceful movement. Once again, Campbell was on the menu.
“He was coming down the hill right at us,” Campbell said. “He thought it was a perfect time for dinner.”
Campbell slung the rubber tire and hollered. The cat kept coming. He heaved the bike over his head and hollered louder. The cat was 10 feet away. His pal lifted her bike and hollered, too. The cat simply hunkered down and started growling, baring its teeth. Large teeth.
“It seemed to go on forever,” Campbell said. “He just watched us.”
Campbell and his riding companion walked backward down the trail with their bikes high over their heads, making sure to keep constant eye contact with the mountain lion. The cat charged them three more times in the next 45 minutes.
“Each time he thought we weren’t looking, he would charge,” Campbell said. “I threw rocks at him and just kept screaming at him. He was beautiful to look at, but it was scary for sure.”
Eventually the two made it to their camp, where game wardens quickly launched a search for the cat, which was never found.
