58. Back Off
My first overnight backpacking trip with a friend—we’re both women—I parked my car at a trailhead, loaded my gear into friend’s van and we headed to another trailhead to sort our stuff, sleep in the van and get an early start the next morning. This trailhead is very popular, just off the main highway. The plan was to then backpack through a pass back to my car.
It’s starting to get dark and we have everything pulled out. The last people are coming down to their cars. It’s dark now and there were a couple of cars left in the lot. Then I notice two older men hanging around. They did not look like hikers and were not acting like hikers. They would talk to each other, but at an oddly far distance from one another and were facing us, not each other.
Every time I looked in their direction, they were standing in a different spot, watching us. I instantly felt danger—like electricity buzzing on my skin. My friend was oblivious, rationing food or something. Next thing they started talking to her asking strange questions and making comments about a big party and wondering if the trailhead gets chained at a certain time.
I don’t know, as I’m writing this, it sounds innocuous but the dudes were creepy and fanned out in a strange way. I felt hunted. My friend, without saying a word, started throwing our gear back in the van. We hauled butt, messed up our packing. I held my knife and tried to shine my headlamp on it in their direction as much as possible—truly ready to fight or flight.
Dudes stood there and didn’t back away. We drove off before I even had a chance to close my door. I’ve never been so angry. It sucks to live in a world in which you must fear for your own safety.