I thought it was over.
Every dire warning, every caution I had been given in the past rang chillingly in my brain.
I was in real danger here. And I didn't know how to rescue myself.
Even as I sit here sharing this experience with you I am reminded how many times I ignore really good advice. I am humbled by my tendency to rush blindly into things without being mindful of the results.
Here's what happened:
I love to hike. It restores me and refreshes my thoughts. While hiking I am reminded of the intricacies of God and how He cares about detail. So many things today (before my traumatic experience) showed me how God cares about things in nature most of us will never even see. It keeps my perspective realistic.
So here I am, about 2 or more miles on the hiking trail- about halfway. I've seen some people also enjoying the trail but hadn't seen anyone for a while.
Suddenly I became aware of a horrible, dull sound. Rhythmically following me. I tried not to overreact so I calmly stopped. Whoever or whatever it was stopped also.
My heart began to beat faster as I realized I was totally at the mercy of whatever it was that was behind me. I took a few more steps, sensing that someone was lurking behind me who meant to cause me harm.
It is true that your thoughts kind of race when you panic. In my mind I heard Don scold me for hiking alone, and other people warning me that despite my sense of safety I had to take steps to protect myself.
I promised myself that if I got out of this I'd actually pay attention to the warnings. I hoped I'd survive whatever this freaky thing is- what good is a lesson learned if you don't live to talk about it?
The sound grew louder and louder as I attempted to calmly continue along the trail in hopes of meeting another hiker.
No such luck.
This really wasn't funny, guys. I was terrified. How would my family fare emotionally if something terrible happened to me?
I determined that no matter what was about to happen, I would fight and I would prevail. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts in anticipation.
Then I noticed something.
When I rubbed my hands on my shorts the horrible, menacing sound stopped. It changed into a soft swishy sound. I touched the sides of my shorts again to confirm my suspicions. And I laughed nervously.
What I had been convinced was a threatening sound was, in reality, my shorts legs rubbing together as I hiked. The heavy tread of footsteps behind me wasn't behind me at all, rather, it was the sound of my own steps mingled with the friction of my clothing as I walked down the path!
What a relief!
And how embarrassing.
I'm not really sure what the true lesson was in this except I shouldn't be hiking by myself in the near future.
Either that or I should bring talcum powder along with me.
Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hiking. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Monday, August 24, 2009
Am I Being Punked?
Don and I went to the Columbia Bottoms Conservation Area today and had a wonderful time. The weather cooperated and it was an absolutely beautiful day.
First up, of course, is the Visitor's Center, which in this case is basically a rebuilt barn. I recommend it highly, especially as a hands-on learning theatre for youngsters. As usual, samples of wildlife are either dangled or stuffed or mounted behind glass to educate us all about the critters that roam this wild area. I took pamphlets, booklets , and information packets to pore over once my hiking experience was done and I'll tell you why.
I've been hiking and/or cycling in these carefully chosen wildlife areas these last few years. But all I know for sure is that the Visitor's Center will be the ONLY place that I will see any of these fascinating creatures (this includes the nature movie continually being played in a darkened classroom at the Center).
Once outside, armed with my books, pamphlets, a mental list of bear and deer tracks, repellants and whistles, I carefully tread on the sacred path created by the conservation department. I keep my senses fully locked and loaded to experience all that nature has to throw at me; my eyes are searching the air , the trees, the bushes, the undergrowth, and the path upon which I step so I can be a respectful and observant partaker of all nature has to offer.
So far I have discovered a baby sock (pink), a guitar pick, a hair thingy, empty shotgun shell casings, various rocks and feathers, and a lone bicycle seat that begs the question- 'where's the rest of the bike?'
I have NOT seen a black, brown, grizzly or polar bear. Nor have I encountered a bobcat, bobwhite, white-tailed deer (except at a farmer's field outside the nature area). There have been no snakes, owls, turkeys, pheasants, or feral dogs, cats, or pigs.
There have, however, been many empty water bottles, bandaid wrappers, wayward shoe inserts, empty bait containers, and even a few articles of clothing I'm surprised have not been missed.
My point is, do the folks in charge of these parks purposely collect these tantilizing examples of wildlife, have a meeting, and then send them off on a brief vacation upon learning of my plans to visit their grounds?
The next time I visit a park I think I'll take the trails and set up my tent in the appropriate area. I'll leave all my maps and insiders guides at home. I'll spend my time seeing and appreciating what is truly there rather than endlessly scan the horizon for what I've been told I should be seeing. Then I'll walk into the visitor's center and ask the ranger to tell me how long these displays have been here, when they've been dusted last, and if they TRULY exist in this area. Maybe I'll even have the wildlife expert take his trusty flashlight and actually show me where one of these little varmints spends his time while avoiding me. A beaver bunker, if you will.
No matter. My thrill with being outdoors in these unique places is not lessened by the absence of animals and birds. I can enjoy myself all by myself if necessary.
But beware. Some day, If I should hear the faint sounds of singing around a campfire late at night, smell critter-type smore's being toasted over a roaring fire, and might just make out the high pitched laughter of forest fawns and raccoons as they share their 'one that got away' story, I'll know it was a well-orchestrated joke played on little old me.
First up, of course, is the Visitor's Center, which in this case is basically a rebuilt barn. I recommend it highly, especially as a hands-on learning theatre for youngsters. As usual, samples of wildlife are either dangled or stuffed or mounted behind glass to educate us all about the critters that roam this wild area. I took pamphlets, booklets , and information packets to pore over once my hiking experience was done and I'll tell you why.
I've been hiking and/or cycling in these carefully chosen wildlife areas these last few years. But all I know for sure is that the Visitor's Center will be the ONLY place that I will see any of these fascinating creatures (this includes the nature movie continually being played in a darkened classroom at the Center).
Once outside, armed with my books, pamphlets, a mental list of bear and deer tracks, repellants and whistles, I carefully tread on the sacred path created by the conservation department. I keep my senses fully locked and loaded to experience all that nature has to throw at me; my eyes are searching the air , the trees, the bushes, the undergrowth, and the path upon which I step so I can be a respectful and observant partaker of all nature has to offer.
So far I have discovered a baby sock (pink), a guitar pick, a hair thingy, empty shotgun shell casings, various rocks and feathers, and a lone bicycle seat that begs the question- 'where's the rest of the bike?'
I have NOT seen a black, brown, grizzly or polar bear. Nor have I encountered a bobcat, bobwhite, white-tailed deer (except at a farmer's field outside the nature area). There have been no snakes, owls, turkeys, pheasants, or feral dogs, cats, or pigs.
There have, however, been many empty water bottles, bandaid wrappers, wayward shoe inserts, empty bait containers, and even a few articles of clothing I'm surprised have not been missed.
My point is, do the folks in charge of these parks purposely collect these tantilizing examples of wildlife, have a meeting, and then send them off on a brief vacation upon learning of my plans to visit their grounds?
The next time I visit a park I think I'll take the trails and set up my tent in the appropriate area. I'll leave all my maps and insiders guides at home. I'll spend my time seeing and appreciating what is truly there rather than endlessly scan the horizon for what I've been told I should be seeing. Then I'll walk into the visitor's center and ask the ranger to tell me how long these displays have been here, when they've been dusted last, and if they TRULY exist in this area. Maybe I'll even have the wildlife expert take his trusty flashlight and actually show me where one of these little varmints spends his time while avoiding me. A beaver bunker, if you will.
No matter. My thrill with being outdoors in these unique places is not lessened by the absence of animals and birds. I can enjoy myself all by myself if necessary.
But beware. Some day, If I should hear the faint sounds of singing around a campfire late at night, smell critter-type smore's being toasted over a roaring fire, and might just make out the high pitched laughter of forest fawns and raccoons as they share their 'one that got away' story, I'll know it was a well-orchestrated joke played on little old me.
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