This particular day the boys were bugging me to get out and do a little panning and sluicing. My youngest son Bruce was enjoying a visit with his best buddy Scott, from Santa Cruz, CA. My next to the youngest son Donn, was hinting that we should drive up Yankee Hill road to the big seemingly dead-end gravelly wide area just past the Ham & Birney (gold rush era) mine. Five Mile creek is just a little fella up there, and empties into the South Fork of the Stanislaus about 2 miles downstream, right at the "Slim Pickens" claim. (only about a mile from the LDMA's Italian Bar camp.)
Well, they got their wish. We headed from Soulsbyville down to Sonora, on over to Columbia, and then up past Columbia Junior College to Yankee Hill Road. Several miles past where the pavement ended, we arrived at the big gravelly wide area. Scott and Donn decided to set up the sluice box right there next to the truck, and Bruce decided he would hoof it downstream a ways to up his chances for some color. I had spotted what looked like an old mining or logging road, and curiosity got the better of me. It terminated at the wide spot, so the only direction to go was to the left following along parallel to the creek.
Everything was fine until I noticed the tall spindly stems of the tallest weeds parting and swooping back together ahead of me. This is only about 100 feet from where I started following the road. I looked down at the creek, and sure enough, little Bruce is panning away right below me. I was thinking maybe the animal was the dog belonging to old Hugh Link, a friend and current owner of the Ham & Birney along with his son. But no, his dog was black and white. This animal blended in perfectly with the dry grass.
About this time, the animal stops, turns around facing me, and stands stock-still. It was right in front of a huge pine tree with a huge double trunk that had fallen across the creek and made a monster road block. I could see daylight under it to the old road on the other side, but it was awful dark in there just the same. Then all of a sudden it came into view. I was staring directly into the unblinking eyes of a good sized mountain lion about 20 feet away. My hackles came up on the back of my head instantly. My first thought was for the safety of the boys.
I could see little Bruce out of the corner of my eye about 50 feet directly downhill from me, still panning. Me and that lion just kept staring at each other. I said to Bruce in an even tone, "Bruce, listen carefully, and don't ask questions. Go quietly up to where Donn and Scott are, and tell them I want you boys to get into the truck and roll the windows up now. Being desperate, I grabbed a dead pine branch hanging down next to me and broke it off on the first yank. I took that dead branch and beat the living hell out of all grass, brush and tree branches like a wild man as I slowly backed up the way I had come.
The lion thankfully stayed put and allowed me to retreat without a battle. When I got back to the crossing, I walked swiftly to the truck and found three boys who had done exactly as I had instructed for a change. Looking back on the situation, I surmize that the lion was telling me "far enough, I have a cub or two under here". This wasn't the scariest lion confrontation I've had, but it did raise my hackles.
Oh, and the boys hadn't had time to find any color. I ruined it for them. Apparently the lion had come very close to us just to monitor our movements, and I caused it to retreat ahead of me to its den.
HH,
Terry B
Well, they got their wish. We headed from Soulsbyville down to Sonora, on over to Columbia, and then up past Columbia Junior College to Yankee Hill Road. Several miles past where the pavement ended, we arrived at the big gravelly wide area. Scott and Donn decided to set up the sluice box right there next to the truck, and Bruce decided he would hoof it downstream a ways to up his chances for some color. I had spotted what looked like an old mining or logging road, and curiosity got the better of me. It terminated at the wide spot, so the only direction to go was to the left following along parallel to the creek.
Everything was fine until I noticed the tall spindly stems of the tallest weeds parting and swooping back together ahead of me. This is only about 100 feet from where I started following the road. I looked down at the creek, and sure enough, little Bruce is panning away right below me. I was thinking maybe the animal was the dog belonging to old Hugh Link, a friend and current owner of the Ham & Birney along with his son. But no, his dog was black and white. This animal blended in perfectly with the dry grass.
About this time, the animal stops, turns around facing me, and stands stock-still. It was right in front of a huge pine tree with a huge double trunk that had fallen across the creek and made a monster road block. I could see daylight under it to the old road on the other side, but it was awful dark in there just the same. Then all of a sudden it came into view. I was staring directly into the unblinking eyes of a good sized mountain lion about 20 feet away. My hackles came up on the back of my head instantly. My first thought was for the safety of the boys.
I could see little Bruce out of the corner of my eye about 50 feet directly downhill from me, still panning. Me and that lion just kept staring at each other. I said to Bruce in an even tone, "Bruce, listen carefully, and don't ask questions. Go quietly up to where Donn and Scott are, and tell them I want you boys to get into the truck and roll the windows up now. Being desperate, I grabbed a dead pine branch hanging down next to me and broke it off on the first yank. I took that dead branch and beat the living hell out of all grass, brush and tree branches like a wild man as I slowly backed up the way I had come.
The lion thankfully stayed put and allowed me to retreat without a battle. When I got back to the crossing, I walked swiftly to the truck and found three boys who had done exactly as I had instructed for a change. Looking back on the situation, I surmize that the lion was telling me "far enough, I have a cub or two under here". This wasn't the scariest lion confrontation I've had, but it did raise my hackles.
Oh, and the boys hadn't had time to find any color. I ruined it for them. Apparently the lion had come very close to us just to monitor our movements, and I caused it to retreat ahead of me to its den.HH,
Terry B
Man, I would have needed some new britches after that 
Good story!
