Capitol Reef National Park, UT.
Bed and Battle
As you know, I car camped my entire trip, and while I did stay in a few official campgrounds along the way, I preferred dispersed camping (camping for free in National Forests and BLM land). Even though this meant that I was often camping in the middle of nowhere, I actually felt really safe the entire trip.
Except for once.
I was in Colorado, visiting a beautiful state park—I had done some research beforehand, and because so much of the land surrounding the park was private, dispersed camping was extremely limited. So, to keep things simple, I planned on camping at the official campground inside the park. Upon arrival, however, I saw a sign stating that I couldn’t pay for the campsite in person—I had to pay online.
Easy enough.
Except that I hadn’t had cell service for the last 25 minutes of my drive.
There was nobody working the kiosk that I could talk to, so I begrudgingly got back in the car and backtracked until regained cell service.
Once on their website, however, even though the campground was literally empty, the only sites that showed as available were the RV sites. But, having gotten in the habit of not paying to camp at all, I wanted to avoid paying a premium for an RV site that I didn't need, if possible.
So I decided to check out the dispersed camping options one last time and was able to identify one spot about 15 minutes up the road. It turned out to be a gigantic circular site, big enough for five or six separate groups, if needed. And although I didn't love the spot, it was getting late and I was tired of running around, so I called it good enough.
This is when things started getting weird.
I parked, let Rosie off the leash to sniff around and before too long she became fixated on a bush about 10 feet from the car. I came over to make sure she wasn’t getting into anything gross, and sure enough, behind the bush was a deer carcass.
Yuck.
So I moved my car to a different section of the site, but as I looked around, there were bones here too—small bones, nothing intact like the deer carcass—but it was definitely not where I wanted to camp.
I once again moved my car again to a different section of the site and was able to find a spot away from the bones and the carcass. It was not glamorous, but it was clean enough for me.
From this site I had a pretty clear view of the road—which wasn’t terribly busy—but there were still a few vehicles passing by. Before long I heard a vehicle engine and looked up to see a truck driving by slower than normal. And the man driving was looking my way.
Even though it was likely just a curious local, I got a weird feeling as he passed. But he kept driving and I didn’t give it much more thought.
But after about 30 minutes that same truck drove by again.
Now, just because I saw the same truck twice in 30 minutes doesn’t mean there’s anything nefarious going on, but between the deer carcass and the bones, this spot was starting to feel unwelcoming, to say the least.
It was around this time that I noticed that the carabiner that I use as a keychain had disappeared. I searched all over for it but couldn’t find it anywhere. I had that thing for over 10 years and it was odd that it suddenly disappeared. I still had the keys but lost the carabiner. Odd.
I ate dinner, watched the sunset and was thinking about heading to bed. And that’s when that same truck drove by a 3rd time.
What. The. Heck.
At this point my hackles were raised.
But did I finally just pack up and leave?
No.
My rational brain kicked in and I figured that even though weird things were happening, the odds of something dangerous taking place were practically zero.
Besides, I felt comforted by the fact that, in addition to the pocketknife I always carry, I had two large, intimidating army knives with me.
As I tucked into bed I made sure that both of the big knives were within easy reach—I was ready for both bed and battle.
But an old Bruce Lee quote kept circulating in my brain: "the best fighter is someone who never has to fight because they control the situation."
And I was not controlling the situation. I was waiting to react. Even after multiple reasons to leave.
Besides, I knew that even though I had my knives, I would very much prefer to never have to use them. And I certainly wouldn’t get any sleep knowing that, at any moment, I may have to defend myself from an attacker.
Plus, who am I kidding, my knives would be virtually useless against someone with a gun. Especially when they had the element of surprise, in a remote area, in the dark, in a cellular dead zone, with me half asleep.
I was not being wise.
In the end, I packed up my car in the dark, backtracked again to where I had cell service and begrudgingly paid for the RV site I'd been avoiding. I arrived well after dark, but easily found my site and got a peaceful night’s sleep.
I don’t really know what the moral of the story is. There’s such a fine line between listening to intuition and facing fears. I obviously don’t want to flee anytime I feel uncomfortable, but I also don’t want to blatantly neglect my intuition.
I’ll never know if I was even in danger at all—I could have been overreacting the entire time. But, as I’ve mentioned before, I felt a protective energy with me throughout my trip, and I can’t help but wonder if it kept sending me signs to leave—a dead deer, scattered bones, the lost carabiner and a creepy truck.
And I finally listened.
“The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.”
–Albert Einstein
