My good friend Bob and I were hiking to Strawberry Peak when she abruptly said, “Stop.” That’s our code for danger. Bob and I hike a lot together, and she frequently rejoices on the trail, like when she sees a butterfly, a lizard or a neat plant.
And it always scares me. I hear her and immediately think, “Snake!” (I’m the anxious one) This time, my nerves did not deceive me. There we stood, less than a mile into our hike, as an angry rattlesnake lay beneath a short tree rapidly vibrating its eponymous tail.
We had to walk past it to keep going. Our adrenaline was pumping. Before we could decide our next move, another hiker (with an adorable poodle mix) was coming down the trail.
We shouted to him that there was a snake. He was unfazed. Older and wiser, this was not his first rodeo.
He picked up his dog and slipped past the snake. Then, dog in one arm, he grabbed a large stick with his free hand. He stuck the branch out toward the snake and directed us to walk on his other side until we were in the clear.
That trail angel’s help made all the difference. Further along on our hike that day, others told us the snake had struck at them. That surprised me.
California is home to eight species of rattlesnakes, the most common for our region being the Western Diamondback and Southern Pacific rattlesnakes. But in the hundreds of hours of hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains, this was the only time I’ve ever even seen a rattlesnake there. (I later learned peak hiking seas.