The passing of my good friend, Mason Allen.
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itmeansgod
- Posts: 77
- Joined: Wed Nov 16, 2005 12:13 am
I only met Mason a few times but he was all smiles. One of those people you meet and don't forget.
To all of his buddies and family, my heart breaks for you. You are faced with a huge loss that nothing will fill. Be there for each other and treasure the life you have in front of you. Tomorrow is not a guarantee.
Michelle
To all of his buddies and family, my heart breaks for you. You are faced with a huge loss that nothing will fill. Be there for each other and treasure the life you have in front of you. Tomorrow is not a guarantee.
Michelle
Does he have a strange bear claw like appendage protruding from his neck? He kep petting it.
My favorite story about Mason has to be when we were in Colorado. We drove, it took forever. Being the ultimate planner I had printed out a lot of material about run ins with bears, cougars, etc. We were going to be in the backwoods and the chance of a run in was a possibility. I thought it wise to be informed. I read all the information, probably multiple times. In the car I gave it to Mason figuring he would read it. I mean, it took us almost 20 hours to drive straight through and we had nothing else to do. I also instructed him to read it—as opposed to just asking.
Skip ahead a few days. Mason and I are camping outside of Golden, Colorado. Yes, we actually found free camping in Colorado. It was during the week so we had the whole place to ourselves, it was getting dark, we were camping a mile or a mile and a half from the car and it was a 20-30 minute drive to the nearest town. As we sat in the dark drinking Coors (their was a fire ban due to the dry conditions) Mason noticed a pair of eyes peering at us from a cluster of boulders, probably 50-60 feet away. Mason, with his ever active imagination, concludes that it must be a cougar, which made me laugh. I laughed a lot. The chances of seeing a cougar are slim to none, we had a much better chance to stumble upon a bear. I figured the chances of a cougar sitting and watching us were next to none. I intelligently inform Mason that it’s probably just a raccoon or some type of scavenger waiting for us to go to bed to see if we were dumb enough to leave any food around, which we weren’t because we’d already put our food in the bear container down the trail. I could see the pair of eyes, they reflected off the headlamp (we only had one) and it was only a few inches from the ground, gotta be a raccoon.
Mason continues to pander on about the big, bad cougar that’s going to drag us off in the night. I eventually grow tired of these eyes gleaming at us and Mason’s imagination is making my skin start to crawl. Fine, I say, let’s just go over to the boulder and whatever it is (it’s just some 10 pound scavenger anyway) will run off, end of story. But, just in case, I decide we had better be prepared. The chances were next to none, but not zero. Mason, of course, has nothing on him but a beer can and a headlamp. I bust out my pocket knife, just in case. I hand Mason a rock, he picks up a spare. The headlamp was Mason’s and the batteries were probably ancient. We get closer and closer, but can’t see anything but the eyes reflecting back at us. We wander over, we get within 15 feet and the varmint stands up, obviously feeling threatened by the two cave men approaching him. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t a cougar. I thought I’d shit myself right then and there.
We both just freeze in our tracks. Mason says, “what do we do now?â€
Skip ahead a few days. Mason and I are camping outside of Golden, Colorado. Yes, we actually found free camping in Colorado. It was during the week so we had the whole place to ourselves, it was getting dark, we were camping a mile or a mile and a half from the car and it was a 20-30 minute drive to the nearest town. As we sat in the dark drinking Coors (their was a fire ban due to the dry conditions) Mason noticed a pair of eyes peering at us from a cluster of boulders, probably 50-60 feet away. Mason, with his ever active imagination, concludes that it must be a cougar, which made me laugh. I laughed a lot. The chances of seeing a cougar are slim to none, we had a much better chance to stumble upon a bear. I figured the chances of a cougar sitting and watching us were next to none. I intelligently inform Mason that it’s probably just a raccoon or some type of scavenger waiting for us to go to bed to see if we were dumb enough to leave any food around, which we weren’t because we’d already put our food in the bear container down the trail. I could see the pair of eyes, they reflected off the headlamp (we only had one) and it was only a few inches from the ground, gotta be a raccoon.
Mason continues to pander on about the big, bad cougar that’s going to drag us off in the night. I eventually grow tired of these eyes gleaming at us and Mason’s imagination is making my skin start to crawl. Fine, I say, let’s just go over to the boulder and whatever it is (it’s just some 10 pound scavenger anyway) will run off, end of story. But, just in case, I decide we had better be prepared. The chances were next to none, but not zero. Mason, of course, has nothing on him but a beer can and a headlamp. I bust out my pocket knife, just in case. I hand Mason a rock, he picks up a spare. The headlamp was Mason’s and the batteries were probably ancient. We get closer and closer, but can’t see anything but the eyes reflecting back at us. We wander over, we get within 15 feet and the varmint stands up, obviously feeling threatened by the two cave men approaching him. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t a cougar. I thought I’d shit myself right then and there.
We both just freeze in our tracks. Mason says, “what do we do now?â€
