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The only other time I came close to death was after watching Cat Ballou with my mom. I was only about six years old and was intrigued with the hanging scene. So, the next day I climbed up on the dog house, wrapped my Tarzan rope around my neck and leaned out to see what it would feel like to hang. There I was leaning just enough to feel the tension. When I was satisfied what it would feel like, I stood up to release the tension and my feet slid out from under me and the knots in the rope hung up and hung me. I remember kicking and swinging and grasping the rope. I can still hear the sound I was making as I type this. A teen age neighbor kid happened to be be walking by and saw me hanging in the back yard and came running. I remember barely being able to see, but I saw him in front of me frantically looking around trying to figure out what to do. Then I saw a calm come over his face as if a lightbulb had come on and he lifted me up, releasing the tension and carried me to my house. I had passed out and came to in my house and man did I have a serious rope burn. The doctor really lit into me about doing stupid things. I remember thinking, I'm kid, that's what we do.

It was in the central Coast Range in Oregon near the ghost town Of Valsetz. I was thinking it could be an old well that was filled and didn't get packed down and ground water made it loose, but knowing my luck it was probably an old outhouse.

I bet cruising up the frozen Columbia would be a hoot. I used to cross it a few times a year going back an forth from my folks house in Pasadena to college up in Tacoma(university of Puget sound) and we went up it a ways in a boat when I was a kid in the 60s/70s(also did the snake river by jet boat once) but it's gotta suck breaking down out in the middle of nowhere in snow at night!

You've piqued my curiosity. C'mon, man. Spill your guts. What happened?

The closest I have ever came to being killed in the woods was when I was archery hunting elk. My buddy and I saw a herd in a meadow and went after them. I was in the timber to the north, my buddy in the timber to the east, hoping to get them between us. It didn't work out and as I was returning to the truck, I saw my buddy at the edge of the field. We carry orange caps to use to signal with. I got his attention and he motioned to meet at the truck. I walked back into the timber as it was faster to get to the truck. I took a few steps, stopped to figure out where I wanted to navigate, when the ground dropped out from under me. My chest and face hit the ground and down I went clawing at the leaflitter, moss and forest duff. I kept a hold of my bow but failed to use it as a way to keep me from going down the sink hole. It was narrow enough that my arms could not be lowered. I could lower my elbows to my ribs, but my hands still at my head. I was deep enough when I came to rest holding my bow by the end above my head it was about a foot below ground. I could barely move. My buddy went to the truck. Ate his lunch. He figured I had come a cross the elk and went after them. He took a nap and then began looking for me. He looked all afternoon and decided to go back to where he saw me last and eventually found me. He couldn't hear me yelling while he was above me. He just happened to see the hole and disturbance on the ground. If I had been alone or had not got his attention, I would have endured a long slow death. No one would know to look for me there.

I had two brushes with death on the fire dept. The chief sent us on the roof to ventilate and two cuts into the roof the roof sagged about a foot and me and another fire fighter did the tango off the roof and down the ladder. The roof went into the 9000 degree basement. Luckily the wall held where the ladder was propped up. We should not have been up there but there was a lady trapped inside. She had been smoking with oxygen. The other one was simply black ice and a crash. And flares and flashlights didn’t seem to slow people down. So when they realized the road was blocked they would lock up the brakes and skitter in and out of the ditch and one of the cars bumpers almost touched me doing 50 sideways. Dumb people. Ive had bulls throw me through fences and rode bare back in rodeo but the closest I ever came to death in the woods was we were packing in Moose creek in Idaho and my buddy’s horse was acting up which made my mare act up. She stepped off the trail and we rolled. Luckily I fell next to the dead fall with the stob, if I had landed on it? I wouldn’t be here. It took some of her weight. And I don’t know how many ribs I broke. Sleeping on the ground after that was murderous and we cut the trip short. Ive been shot at, by pot growers, but they were just trying to scare us I think. We shot back and retreated out of the area which was their goal I think. Now it’s perfectly legal. Im glad you made it Huntster! Awesome stories! Our Canadian friends have a couple of Griz attack stories too!

Both shotgun incidents were on bird hunts. The quail hunt was when I was 16. The buckshot incident was during a ptarmigan hunt by snowmobile in 2001. The guy who shot me had the buckshot in his pocket in case he got a shot at a wolf. He wasn't paying attention reloading his gun. We were 44 mikes from a road, and another 80 miles to the nearest clinic. Fortunately there was a remote lodge just a few miles away, and they had. radio-phine. I was evacuated by helicopter. It was 37 degrees below zero. The 7.62 round was sent by a sniper while I was working on the perimeter fence around the base. The round passed between my torso and upper arm and blew the tool bag up in front of me laying on the flatbed of the truck as I was working on something. I was under the truck before the burn on my arm made me realize that I'd been grazed. It was another few seconds before I realized that my rib was busted.