CHAPTER SIX

SURRENDER ON THE TRAIL

CHAPTER SIX

When I am afraid,
I put my trust in you.
Psalm 56:3

8:15PM

When we arrive at our campsite, I am surprised. Beyond our parking spot, all I see is waist high grass and trees. It does not look like a camping spot to me.

Of course, what do I really know about camping?   

SunFloJo points to the 1-foot-wide path that leads to a sign with our reserved spot number 1A1. 

That is where we are going to sleep? In there? Inside all that green stuff? Oh dear.

I grab my 3.5 lb. tent sack; ultra-lightweight sleeping bag and the few things I may need overnight like one of the last of two Pepsi cans from the cooler. I mentally prepare to let go of life conveniences. We sleep at a campsite tonight. Tomorrow morning we begin the trail.

We walk down the narrow path. I try not to think about what is lurking in the tall weeds near my ankles.  

The clearing for site 1A1 is small. We discover there is already a tent in that location. I notice that tent’s spot is on top of soft earth compared to the rest of the area.

We do not see a person. They appear to be inside for the night. We can see a lantern and the shadow of a book. 

Down the path from us I see a big family size tent by the post in the ground that reads 1A3. Their tent is a big orange ball, out of place inside the soft green forest.

We set up near the fire pit and picnic table. There are many gnarly root systems and not much space for our 3 tents. We are either setting up in 1A1 with the mystery human, or the area we are in is 1A2. But I do not see a sign for that number.

Paul suggested before I left that even though I have learned to set up my own shelter, it would go faster if we ladies give each other a hand steadying the poles. Set up one tent, then the next and so forth. Seemed like a good idea.  

The younger gals are already a team because they plan to share a 2-person tent. They get to work pulling out their supplies.

I notice SunFloJo has the exact same brand of 1-person tent as I do. I ask if she wants to take turns helping each other with the poles. “Oh no, I’m fine,” She says busy and very into the solo process. 

Note to self: I have got to remember that part of this trip for SunFloJo is about doing things on her own.

So, I set up my tent alone while eyeing every leaf and blade of grass for potential creatures. It is a few simple steps. I stake in the ends into the ground hoping the sides do not collapse on me overnight. I consider the extra cord staking. It is not supposed to be windy tonight, so I skip it. 

I look over to SunFloJo who is already done. She calls her tent “the womb”. She looks forward to getting in there. I do not feel the same. Proud of her progress, she moves on to the task of starting a fire. She goes to get a lighter from the car.

I dig out my snake and rodent repellent plan, then place bags of moth balls at the head and foot of my tent. I place a bag behind the girls’ tents because I promised Stalker C that I would. I wonder if SunFloJo would mind me messing with nature in this way, but I am not going to ask.

Stalker C and Sunshine Rat giggle at themselves. They just about have their 2-person tent together.

I turn my eyes to the deep woods side of camp wondering what is in there. Then lo and behold I see a deer climb the forest hill and walk right up to our camp. It is a large doe with zero fear of us. She looks elderly.

Not wanting to make sudden movements, I whisper toward the girls’ tent, “Stalker C! It’s Rosemary.”

Stalker C and Sunshine emerge carefully from their tent to the awe of Rosemary’s presence. Night is setting in. We could not be happier with our visitor. It is too dark to see our smiles, but I feel the shared energy.

SunFloJo makes it back just in time, “Aw, Stalker C, you got your wish. How about that. Your sweet grandmother is thinking of you.”

“She is,” Stalker C chokes up.

Rosemary the deer leaves gracefully as if to say, “Just stopping by. Have fun.” We settle into the joy of our brief visitor.

We search for sticks to roast hot dogs. From the limited supply of what we can see, we choose sticks that are a bit soft. Sunshine opens a little Rubbermaid container of onions. I like onions usually, but the smell tonight turns my stomach. No thank you.

Sunshine and I try to roast the first dog. It slips right off the stick into the fire. Yuck.

We fashion the flimsy sticks to hold the dogs better. Night is here. We are going to eat most of these hot dogs half raw. I am sure of it. 

Finding our headlamps, the party continues. No one wants to wander into the woods to find better sticks. We make the best of our cooking limitations.

The smell of the fire combines with the crunch of old leaves on the ground and the smell of fresh spring leaves above us.

SunFloJo is happy with her hot dog and one beer.

I take one bite of my dog. That is good enough dinner for me.

Sunshine enjoys her dog with onion, “Mmm.”

Stalker C drizzles a ketchup packet along her bun.

Soaking in the experience, Sunshine announces, “We’re in the Wild and the Wild is in us.”

Well said. We toast to that.

A gallon size Ziploc bag is opened to collect smelly items. Any food or trash will go back into the car. 

I sense this might be the birthday moment I am looking for. And I do not want to carry anything into the woods unless I absolutely need it for survival tomorrow.

The small lamp goes dim inside our 1A1 neighbor’s tent as I jog to the vehicle to grab the mini Babe Ruth cake and candles.

Stalker C knows about the flammable glue. When I return, I see acknowledgement in her eyes under the headlamp. She is ready to put out the fire or deal with an explosion if needed.

Darkness surrounds us and sleep calls to our internal clocks.

I light the candle, “SunFloJo.”

She turns my way. I say, “I didn’t get to celebrate your birthday properly this year so tonight we are celebrating you and your dream to begin hiking the AT. Happy Birthday! Many wonderful adventures await!”

SunFloJo tilts her headlamp toward the crafty cake, “Oh, I love it!”

She clasps her hands. SunFloJo makes a wish and blows out the candle. “This is so cute.  Babe Ruth is my favorite candy bar. Let’s eat dessert right now.” She rips open a candy bar and puts it in her mouth. We begin to do the same.

I see SunFloJo make a yuck face. “It tastes like…”

She continues, “Glue!”

Oh, no.

The girls laugh.

SunFloJo reaches for the garbage Ziploc bag that quickly turns into the garbage and spit bag.

“Awful!”

I whisper, “I’m sorry!”

But we all think it is funny–even me reluctantly.

Oops. I ruined that adorable candy bar cake with glue somehow seeping to the nougat through the wrappers. Fortunately, SunFloJo has more to drink to wash out the terrible taste.

We gather the things going to the car and shove them into the hatch.

It is time. We are going to have to pee before bed. 

The girls are not up for finding a spot in the weeds.

SunFloJo says, “Wanna go out on the pavement? We can turn off the headlamps.”

There is a collective sigh. That is the best option for tonight. No going back home now.

We line up about 5 feet apart along the parking lot and turn off our lights. 

I think carefully about how to squat and not get my pants or feet wet. It is time to put into practice the lessons I have learned from YouTube.

Urine flows in unison. We snicker in the dark.

Then pants are pulled up. 

Someone says, “Alright ladies.” Headlamps turn on. We observe 4 lines of pee streaming downhill.   

Stepping over our success, we traipse down the path back to camp. Time to climb into our tents as the triumphant four that we are.

We whisper good night. I inspect the brush and leaves outside my tent near where my head will be.

I take a deep breath. I am going in. The tent opening is short. I stoop to crawl into the doorway. 

Zipped inside the tent, I remember and am glad that I used unscented deodorant today. I do not want to have any curious smells in here that animals would want to investigate.

Hmmm.

It is lonely inside the tent.

And dark.

And tight.

It is just my body and mere inches to the nylon material around me.

Not much space.

My body wiggles in an attempt to be comfortable. Ouch to the left. Ouch to the right. There is no avoiding the rough ground beneath me.

I turn back on my headlamp. I try to read. I attempt the same sentence several times. Not happening

I close the book. I peek at the plastic urinal near my feet that I brought just in case.

I move the tent zipper pulls so that they are lined up at the top of the tent, not the bottom. Nothing is getting in here with me if I can help it!

Being tall there is no way to sit up well in my 1-person tent. When I attempt to sit up, then I feel like the whole thing is going to fall apart.

The girls in their 2-person tent about 8 feet to my left are talking softly. I can visualize their attempt to get settled also. 

It is getting more and more quiet outside in the night air. A new sound emerges from SunFloJo’s tent about 4 feet to my right. She is sawing logs. I recall that she did a sleep study last year for snoring. No CPAP machine available out here in the wild. Good, maybe the sound will keep animals away. Or will it invite them to investigate the sound?!

The girls become silent. Good for them.

I toy with hanging the headlamp from the top of the tent, but it falls on my head.

The worn-out sleep pad is not helpful. I twist, turn, and repeat.

Cutting through the quiet I hear Stalker C call out, “Surrender?!”

I hesitate, then say, “Yeah?”

“Is there still a hot dog in the fire pit?”

I pause to consider the question.

I think about the last time I saw the fire pit. SunFloJo and I kicked the ash around to kill the fire before bed. I do not recall seeing any remains of the first slippery hot dog that fell.

A responsible big sister type person would get out of her tent and go check the ashes. That is not me tonight. There is no way I am getting out of this tent in the dark.

I send my voice in their direction, “It burned up in the fire.” It must have, right?

Silence. Through the nothingness I hear her concern.

I add, “I promise.”

Stalker C says, “Thank you.”

I really really really hope I am telling the truth. I did not see the hot dog. It must have burned. Surely.

My heart races thinking about how many videos talked about being odor and food free at camp. Our one vital task was to put everything smelly into the car tonight. One task! And now I lay here questioning everything: every crumb, every move we made setting up camp. Were we careful?

The girls softly giggle and talk again. They probably are discussing the hopefully burned up hot dog.

Then from beyond the girls’ tent I hear a new voice. 

The person resting on the softest terrain in 1A1 sounds like a “he”. 

Words sail out from the mystery tent that was set up before we arrived. 

He says into the night, “Shuuutttt Uuuuuupppp.”

If you’d like to listen to the Audio Version or support this creative work, click here for my Podcast SURRENDER ON THE TRAIL.

© Copyright 2016 Surrender On The Trail – Glenna S. Edwards

Thanks for reading or listening. Check back next Sunday for CHAPTER SEVEN.

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