I have been known to have the odd lapse in judgment. 1993 through 1995 was a memorable one. Getting out of bed in March of 2002 has since proven to be a bad idea that continues to this day. But one of the more acutely painful lapses was when I decided to take my girlfriend on a hike. Perhaps I have used two words incorrectly in that last statement. She was not so much a girlfriend as a girl I was having sex with that I had met the previous weekend. And it was not so much a hike as it was a wilderness camping trip into the Canadian backwoods at a provincial park. Regardless, the entire enterprise seemed much like, well, parachute pants: a good idea at the time. And with similar results.
Her name was Lane, not, she instructed me with raised finger and dramatic pause, Laney. She assured me that calling her Laney would result immediately in a groin injury, delivered with spectacular speed and accuracy. Lane was a lovely girl, slim and nubile. She was only a shadow over five and a half feet, but her long gazelle legs and serpentine neck made her seem much taller. I was positive that I was in love with her, or at least, in love with parts of her. And some of her parts were the best parts I had ever experienced. Surprisingly enough, this story isn't really about her.
Camping was something I just loved to do. And I particularly enjoyed going to this provincial park. It was smaller than some other, closer parks, and it was a bit less populated. The park was divided by a pleasant creek, spotted with rolling meadows and some mature forest, contained a few marshy spots and a great abandoned gravel pit. I knew the area very well and had a few favourite spots that I liked to visit. There was a high hill that looked over a wide bend in the creek and from that vantage point I could watch deer come down to the water to drink. There was also a tract of marshland, where the great trunks of trees, long dead from the rising water reached up like bony arms. There I had seen hawks and herons, egrets and owls and even a few bald eagles.
When I told all this to Lane she seemed interested. By that I mean she looked at me as if she were paying attention. And by that I mean that her face was actually facing the same general direction in which I was standing. What I found out later was that she hadn't really been interested and hadn't really been listening; she just knew that I was taking her somewhere. Beautiful neck, but there was evidently less and less actually perched atop it.
The day before we left, I went over to her place and helped her pack. I was looking through her wardrobe with a rising sense of alarm. Lane was a business woman working in a downtown office and her clothing told me that she did little else but work. Aside from a few pairs of jeans and a sweatshirt, Lane had no clothes suitable for any kind of outdoor excursion. When I brought this to her attention, she said, "Well, can't we just stay in the chalet or whatever?" It was then that I began to get an inkling of what I was in for.
By going through my own wardrobe and volunteering some sweaters and shirts, we ended up only having to buy her a few essentials, proper socks, a pair of hiking boots, another pair of jeans and a decent jacket. She tried on the clothes and stood in front of the mirror saying, "Look, I'm a redneck!" I was beginning to have the slightest twinge of doubt concerning this trip.
The drive up north was another revealing look at just who I was about to be traipsing about the woods with. As we drove farther and farther away from the city, her frustration at being unable to find a decent radio station increased. I told her to switch the radio to AM and she looked at me blankly. She had never listened to AM radio before. And when she did, she snorted that the radio was busted because the sound was all crappy. It was too. Not just because it was AM, but because it was playing music by Merle Haggard and the Oakridge Boys and a lot of other musicians by the name of Jessie and Lyle and Curtis.
When we arrived at the park, I pulled the car up a short drive and signed in at the gate. Twenty minutes or so later, the road pinched off to a path and I parked the car. "Okay," I said, "here we are." She turned to me with an expression that confirmed all my doubts about this trip in one, sickening second.
"And here is where, exactly?" she asked.
"This is where we are going camping."
"How far is the place where we're staying?"
"Well, I was thinking of setting up camp on the high meadow. It's nice and the trees provide a good wind break. If we move now, we can watch the sunset up there."
"Hold on." she paused for a long moment. "What do you mean by 'set up camp'?"
"The tent." I unloaded the gear from the trunk of the car and held up the pack holding the tent.
"You expect me to sleep in that?"
"Well, it's bigger than this when it's open." I laughed.
She didn't. "Unless it also has hot showers and cotton sheets, there is simply no way."
"I don't know how to tell you this but," I shrugged, "you can either sleep in this tent with me, or in that car by yourself. Now, there are benefits to both. That car has nice hard sides and reclining seats. My tent however will be positioned near a campfire, with warm food. Oh, and car keys."
"If I stay here, you'll have to leave the car keys." She said haughtily.
"If I leave you the car keys, you won't stay here." I picked up my backpack and grabbed my walking stick.
An hour later in the car, she still hadn't said a word to me. But at least she had stopped crying. I had to admit that I was surprised her cell phone worked this far north. When we got to the first big town she spotted a Comfort Inn and screamed at me until I pulled over. I suddenly appreciated all that silence.
She threw the car door open and said she would have someone more civilized come and pick her up. I got out and helped her get her backpack which she ripped from my hands in a fury. She spun on her heel and stomped towards the hotel.
"What, no kiss?" I called after her. That may have been the only time I had ever received an icy glare from someone facing away from me. It was a bit disconcerting.
By the time I got back to the park it was almost sundown. I decided that I would go to the main campground and set up camp there for the night. The park offered both reserved camping sites and wilderness camping. Some of the reserved sites were serviced with water and hydro and there were bathroom facilities with showers in the center. It cost more to stay on a serviced site and I didn't need electricity or running water anyway, so I set my tent up in a small clearing. The sun dipped below the trees and I used the headlights of my car to get the tent up. Finally, I had a little fire going and a pot of water just starting to boil on top.
I sat with my back against a fallen limb and let myself be hypnotized by the dancing flames. I came to the conclusion that I was actually enjoying myself much more without Lane. Above me the spray of stars glistened against the velvet night and the air was alive with peepers, crickets and night birds. A firefly blinked past me, greeting me in Morse code. I sighed and allowed myself to relax. I was at peace with the universe, calm and serene.
This is why I jumped so fricking high when two people crashed through the trees into my campsite.
I leaped to my feet and advanced on the two figures. I had had my run-ins with drunken campers before, so I was prepared. And sober myself, which was a new approach.
They turned out to be women, and they were both very excited and babbling at me at once. I managed to find out that they had a campsite just through the trees and there was a bear nosing around. I was rather shocked. It wasn't unusual to see bears out in the meadows or south of the park where the dump was, but they normally steered clear of the reserved camping area. But it wasn't unheard of. I wasn't sure what to do, so I grabbed a flashlight, a tin frying pan, and my pot, ruefully dumping my just boiled water, and headed over to their campsite.
There was certainly something rustling around in there and I carefully flicked the flashlight on and nosed it around. Two shiny eyes popped up from behind a spilled cooler and I admit I jumped a bit until I realized who the eyes belonged to. Using my pot and pan, I clanged the critter out of the campsite and into the woods. The cooler of food was largely untouched, but the carton of milk and the eggs were pretty much ruined. I cleaned up the mess as best I could and put the cooler in the back seat of their car.
Back at my campsite, the women were waiting nervously for me.
"It was a raccoon," I said.
"Are you sure?" one of the women asked, "It looked like a bear to me."
"Well, the darkness plays tricks on the eyes. It was a raccoon. Unless he showed up after and scared the bear away."