**Facebook Post 101317 at 11:36PM**
Fear No Evil
So, between Fox sending me updates as to all the weirdos to watch out for on the trail, and the ever present gut feeling I am supposed to go by when I first meet someone, but may or may not be accurate, sometimes I feel like I am missing something. I think they call it FEAR.
I’m not sure why as I Parkour over wet rock on the edge of a cliff, I can be filled with anxiety about loosing my teeth, breaking a leg, or falling 60 feet, but I still show up and do it. Being a woman solo hiking through the backwoods of states where I have zero familiarity, I somehow loose that healthy feeling of fear to a large degree. Maybe something is broken in me. Maybe I’ve been hiking too long. Maybe I have delusions of grandeur where I just believe somehow if some crazy jumps out of nowhere and tries to kill me I’m capable of escape or overcoming them with my Wiley ways. Who knows?
What I do know is the older I get in general, the more fear I loose. Be it meeting strangers in the night on a dark trail, walking highways alone for miles seeking resupply, or even at home going through motions of every day living, there are things to be fearful of, yet a lot of times it never even crosses my mind. Inanimate objects like wet rock do keep me on edge, but the fear of being mugged or worse somehow slips my mind entirely. Don’t think people all around me don’t try to bring this up, they do. Friends and family like to make sure I’m aware I could potentially get hurt. Thanks guys… I got it. At times, I will even have interesting encounters on trail, where I think to myself, maybe I should have been scared right there. What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I freak out more?
For instance, last year I was walking through the Smokies at around 10PM, alone in the dark, at top speed trying to get to a shelter to camp. You are not allowed to just camp anywhere in that park. You have to camp at shelters or designated sites. So, being its late and I’m tired as hell, I’m booking it trying to make miles and get to my destination. My headlamp did not have fresh batteries, so I could only see maybe 10-15 feet in front of me, otherwise it was just black. I’m in the zone, huffing and puffing my way up and down mountains, when all of a sudden just out of reach of my headlamp, and directly in front of me, I hear a growl. I can only assume it’s a sizable bear. I stop in my tracks and freeze. I don’t scream. I don’t run. In fact, I’m bizarrely calm. Then I hear it run off, I’m guessing. I heard brush move heavy and fast. I stand there for a moment. In my head I think, if it was going to attack me, it would have already done it. I can’t go back. So, I have to move forward. Clock is still ticking. It’s late. I’m tired. The goal is still the shelter. So, I begin to walk forward, and keep walking. And that was that. I eventually got to the shelter. BUT after this incident, I thought wtf. Why didn’t I react more? Scream? Run? Something. I was afraid, I guess, but I wasn’t at the same time. Analyzing that event after the fact, I wonder about myself sometimes.
Where is the fear?
Which brings me to today’s rant… I’ve mentioned this to several women hikers, and it seems like this happens frequently. Older men say the strangest things to me when I’m on trail. I’m not sure if they are just trying to make small talk or are genuinely concerned for my safety or just freaking weirdos, but…
Young dudes don’t say weird shit to me typically. They pretty much seem comfortable with the idea there are more and more women on the trail hiking solo. It seems normal to them, but… It’s as if at times when I come across men from a slightly older generation they either seemed shocked I’m out in the woods, or I’m out in the woods alone, or I’m just out of my house and not in a kitchen barefoot with babies. Not sure but they always seem perplexed and start saying the weirdest stuff ever.
I mostly get the “Are you alone?” comment. I’m not sure what business of theirs it is if I am or am not, but this is the question I get over and over again. Not sure if they realize it, but asking me if I’m alone is a pretty weird freaking question. (Serial killer wanting to know if I’m an available target kind of question.)
When I come across women on trail, it’s pretty much the last thing they would ask me. We would exchange pleasantries such as, “Hi! How are you doing? Great! Happy hiking! Bye!” That would be pretty much it, unless we sat around and started going on about gear for a minute or two more. But older men like to get weird on me.
After asking if I’m alone, the next question tends to be “Is there anyone behind you? Where are you spending the night? How far are you planning on going today? Where did you camp last night?” Now these follow ups would seem pretty natural I guess, but when they follow the “Are you alone?” question, that’s just weird.
So back to fear… You’d think I would get all sketched out. Nope. Not typically. Usually, I just get annoyed or pissed off and start rebutting the comments, then hike on as if to say, “Catch this, crazy person!”
Here’s one where there was no rebutting though. I’m walking alone in Maine. It’s a pretty cold and still day with an overcast sky. As I make my way up a mountain, in the distance I see this little old man with coke bottle glasses and what appears to be a satchel, not a pack. He’s scruffy, but doesn’t look homeless. He actually looks like he’d be some sort of old farmer type. Blue jeans and a flannel, baseball cap and a beard. In this instance, he does send off some sort of alert in me, mostly because he doesn’t look like he belongs on a hiking trail. No gear, and not the right clothes, and he’s moving slow. Real slow. I am going in the opposite direction, so I get closer and closer with each step. As I do, the image of weird backwoods Maine rednecks I have heard so much about in the past come forward in my mind. To spite the gut feeling this dude ain’t right, I have to pass by in order to proceed, so I just casually say hello and keep moving swiftly. He turns to me and doesn’t return greeting, but asks me if I’m a south-bounder. I say yes, and in this totally creepy voice he squeezes out “Good luck.” For some reason I kept thinking for the next three miles he knew of the serial killers waiting to pummel me as I summited the next mountain top. So fucking strange. Like in a horror movie. I hike on.
I also love the many many many older hiker guys who are going to give me all the reasons why I shouldn’t be hiking this time of year, why I shouldn’t be alone, etc.. Recently after leaving NH, I entered VT. Not long into this next state I pass a north-bounder guy maybe in his fifties. He sees me and says “Are you one of the southbound ladies I keep hearing about?” I’m like, “Well, that depends. What are they saying?” I laugh. He doesn’t tell me, but immediately comes back with “You know Winter is coming. You’re not going to make it. It’s going to get cold. Etc., etc., etc…. Literally, I should have put my hand to my mouth as if in shock and come back with some wiseass remark like “No! Really? OMG! What am I going to do? Maybe I should turn around!!!!!” No. I just give him the eye roll and a “This is not my first rodeo.”
This last one sort of made me chuckle. I am walking fast and I come across two older guys in kilts getting water. They have planted themselves right in the middle of the trail. So, I have to wait for them to gather their stuff to let me by. The older of the two gents happens to be the one who greets me while I wait. He does so not with a “Hello!”, or “How are you?” but (again) the first thing out of his mouth is “Are you alone?” Yeah… Then he asks me if there are any hikers coming behind me. “No”, I say annoyed. (Sound familiar?) “Where are you heading?” (Southbound, obviously, ya yank.) “However far I get, old man.” “Where do you plan on camping tonight?” This odd exchange continues and finally the guy’s friend has their crap out of my way. I bid them adieu and off I trot thinking I didn’t ask you why you decided to go out in the woods wearing a skirt, what gives asking me all kinds of questions? He just seemed bewildered I would be out there alone, with an intention of walking perhaps over 2,000 miles and not be scared for my life. Seriously, I don’t know. Maybe I should be scared. And now we come full circle.
Should I be scared? Well, yeah. Breaking teeth or a leg doesn’t feel good. Walk slowly, look down, think before you step. Getting lost??? It happens, but not to me typically. I know how to use a compass. I bring maps and guides. I’m covered. Serial killers? Yeah, they exist, but am I going to never leave my house because of it? No. Seriously, I’m more likely to get mugged leaving Walmart than walking in the woods. Bears? Sure, sounds scary, but I’m also not the sort of idiot who leaves candy bars in my tent at night. I have a bear bag and line, and I use it when bear boxes aren’t available. Again, not my first rodeo.
I have a theory… I am often accused of being a lot younger than I am when I’m out here. Not because I’m young looking necessarily, but more because I think it’s still pretty unusual a woman my age is out hiking long distance in general. Most of the hikers out here by far are in their twenties. It also goes the other way too, many are retirees. Middle age, forty somethings, are not in the majority. Most are enslaved to a mortgage they need to pay and someone’s college tuition. So, they don’t have the time or money.
Hear me out… I’m guessing most of the men I come across out here think I’m their daughter’s age when they first meet me. So, they think they are either helping or they are pissed my parents let me do this, alone. So, they get confused when I trot up. They want to tell me to go home, but they aren’t my dad. So, instead they ask a lot of weird questions trying to figure me out. Or they start up with the warnings about weather, or getting lost, or whatever… I think they may have my best interest at heart. Like they are actually concerned I might get hurt out here, but they actually have just as much of a chance of that as I do, if you think about it.
Anyway, I think that’s why I get so many weird comments. Just for the record though, it’s a bit sexist. I don’t go around warning young solo hiker men of the dangers of being out here. That would be ridiculous, just like its ridiculous to warn me. I assume before they left their house they probably had some indication of what they were about to get into. We all know what the risks are before we buy expensive gear, train, drive hundreds of miles to get here, etc.. I think it’s pretty obvious what the risks are. And sure, some weirdo might kill me. I might also fall off a cliff. In fact, statistically is think the latter would be more likely.
Hear me… I am perfectly capable of finding my way across state after state lines, walking long distance over huge mountains without the assistance of a boyfriend or male companion, and I’m not dead yet. Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it, but I actually am an adult and by being so, I assume the risk. I’m good with it. Really. I am. I choose to die living. Risk is something we face every time we walk out our door. I just like to add a little extra dose of it to my life. Maybe it might be good for me to be a little more fearful, but I’ll work on that right after I finish hiking the Appalachian Trail.
Live fast and take chances ya’ll. Nobody wants to die just watching life happen on TV. Get out there!
4:45PM Start Day 55 (101317)
•4:45PM (Estimate) Taconic State Prkwy. (Mile 760.5)
•6:15PM RPH Shelter (Mile 760.8)
•7:15PM Shenandoah Campsite
(Mile 762.0) Sleep
•9:30AM Fahnestock Trail (Mile 767.2)
•12:00PM Beaver Pond Outlet (Mile 769.8)
•1:45PM (Mile 773.0)
•3:30PM (Mile 776.8) Chapman Road
•4:00PM (Mile 777.6)
•4:45PM 780.2 Appalachian Market
(Mile 780.2)
4:45PM End Of Day 55
APPROX 19.7 Miles
