strange noises in the woods

It took hours but we eventually arrived at a compromise. I was going to see if I could find us a ride to his truck, parked outside of town about 15 winding mountain miles away. Once there, we would hike onto the trail for a couple of miles and camp somewhere. We would see how his feet were the next day…and we would see how I felt about continuing this journey. Tony is very practical and would not consider paying someone to take us to his truck when we had just paid someone to bring him from it. His pride or practicality (or general disdain for parting ways with money) made it impossible for him to consider, so I set about the task of finding us a ride. He would agree to going to the truck but with one condition…I could pay nothing for it. 

I asked around and it didn’t take long to realize that few were willing to drive an hour out of their way and those who were couldn’t until much later in the day. I made my way back to the Outdoor Outfitters where we had originally arranged Tony’s shuttle into town yesterday. The same old man was working the desk. He weighed roughly 400 pounds and looked like he was very familiar with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whisky. He had charged Tony $50 the day before to bring him into town. Shuttling hikers around is a real job in these mountain towns. A shuttle to/from the Atlanta airport will cost you $400 and in this depressed part of the country where mines and railroads used to allow citizens to flourish, now the few jobs left were in service of the AT Hikers…it was like the poor feeding the poor. I marched in and straight up to Bob. I was just going to level with him. “I need you to drive us to his truck. I can’t let him walk on those feet. BUT…I need you to tell him you are doing this for free.” He looked at me sideways. “I am going to say you were going that way anyway and that you wouldn’t accept any money,” I told him as I slid the $50 across the counter. He wrapped his head around it for a minute…he wasn’t going to have to lie, just go along with my lie. He didn’t deliberate long – he grabbed his keys and we headed out to his van. 

In less than a minute we were pulling up in front of the picnic tables where I left Tony. “Hop in,” I said as I slid the vans door open. “Bob is heading this way anyway and agreed to take us – no charge.” Bob turned away sheepishly. Tony does NOT look like someone you want to lie to. Tony climbed in next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder and braced myself as we headed over the snaking mountain pass toward his parking spot. I struggle with motion sickness, so I wrapped my arms around Tony and snuggled into his chest and tried to doze off. Sleeping or driving are the only ways I know to avoid getting sick especially in the back of a smelly van driven by a man who has gone this way too many times to count. The van had been "customized" for the transport of hikers…and by that, I mean the middle seats had been torn out leaving an open space in the center of the van for packs and gear. It smelled like cigarettes and dirty bodies, ours adding to the mix. Tony made small talk with the man driving us. He had come out to Hot Springs to live a slow life. He ran the small outdoor store and the shuttle service and made a good enough living doing it. It wasn’t hard to envision how his day would end – sitting in a recliner in front of a TV, mindlessly watching The History Channel…a bottle of Old Crow beside him. He would stay up too late, eat too much junk, go to bed feeling like shit and wake up to do it all over again tomorrow. I say this with no judgment because this might just be the life he always wanted. I say it only to give you a visual. 

Hot Springs, NC

We pulled up to Tony’s truck and hopped out - our legs shaky beneath us. After a quick deposit of our excess items into Tony’s truck, he hiked back in to meet up with the trail. This was the first time I had ever jumped ahead…a 20 mile gap, a day of hiking, lay untouched by my feet between Hot Springs and here. I was already “off” the trail. I was already failing. We hiked in a couple of miles, Tony limping along as best he could, cringing every time the trail went up or down as it caused his feet to move in his shoes. I was in my own little personal hell behind him. My experience with the Diva Cup and its horrors had left me in a bad spot. My stomach was a mess – either from my period or the cup or the dirty water I had used to clean the cup…or the dirty water in general or the physical exertion of the past week. There were a lot of likely causes but the effect was that my stomach was…it was not good. I needed to go. Really go. So, next topic to explore, how does one do “that” along the trail while maintaining any level of attractiveness to their partner? Now, I have been married before. I’ve had children. But I believe there is some level of privacy necessary to continue to look at your partner as anything other than your assigned bunkmate. Rules I try live by with regard to what I owe my partner: Stay in shape. Put dimmers on every light switch. Wear mascara at all (most) times. And do your “business” with the door closed. We all KNOW what goes on and we all KNOW everyone does it, but seeing it is another thing altogether and it literally NEVER needs to happen. Now someone will read this and will be in one of those relationships where everything is open and shared and if that works for you and you can still feel sexy – I love it. Good for you. For me, it’s just best I go it alone when it comes to bathroom time (side note: I am actually fine to pee anywhere and in front of anyone. Those who know me know I will pee anywhere – side of the highway, Lowes parking lot, potted plant at a crowded mall, [joking. Never at the mall. Never.] mostly because I have to pee approximately every 7-10 minutes). So, this all leaves me with a rumbling stomach and an innocent boyfriend who doesn’t deserve what happens next.

(NOTE: Another graphic detail warning) I drifted back on the trail, allowing Tony to get ahead of me. My stomach was at level 9 on a 10 point scale and I didn’t have much time. Once he was out of sight ahead of me, I threw down my poles, ripped off my pack and squatted right there on the edge of the trail beside a tree. My booty hung out over the ledge and I hung onto the tree while my stomach fell down the side of the mountain. Noises escaped my body that there was no masking. Panic set in…could he hear me? Oh God, of course he could – we were in a silent forest. Maybe he would think it was a wounded animal? Maybe it wasn’t as loud as I thought. I hoped it wasn’t. What could I do? I was shamed and relieved all at once. 

I finished up and cleaned up, reloaded my pack, patted down my clothing, ran my fingers through my hair and grabbed my poles, trying to look as dignified as I could. I marched forward on the trail, feeling better and telling myself that he heard nothing when suddenly the trail disappeared ahead of me. I looked down to see a switchback, meaning the trail literally looped back on itself in a zig-zag, commonly used to weave you up or down a hill so the terrain is not so steep. My mind literally exploded when this realization set in…Tony had not disappeared ahead on the trail, he had walked under me, below me, below my ass hanging off the side, below my stomach falling out, below the sounds and the smell and…OH MY GOD. I slowed. I stopped. I stood there, suddenly never wanting to catch up to him. Never wanting to be face to face with him ever again. Thinking for a brief moment, the ONLY solution was to turn and run and change my name and move to Mexico. I stood there biting my lip, the smell I had left above me wafting through the mountain air. Seriously? I rolled my eyes at the Universe…at the trail and her bullshit and her way of winning, always winning. Her way of making me pay for skipping 20 of her stupid miles. I rolled my eyes and accepted my fate. I picked up the pace again and Tony was soon in view. As I came up behind him, he turned and gave me a little smile. He knew. He knew and I knew. We walked in silence for a bit…a silence broken by these two words, “so, switchback.” The laughing began and soon tears were streaming down both our cheeks. Over the course of the next hour or so, I had several more “moments” and now it was ok to just say, “Hey, I am going to stop again for a sec.” I didn’t need to explain further and he dutifully marched ahead.

I was returning to normal by the time we found a spot to camp for the night. It wasn’t an ideal spot…certainly not the perfection we had the night before…but it was flat and there was space for a campfire and plenty of firewood. Tony’s blisters were too bad to go further and there was a stream to bathe in nearby. We made camp and took our stream showers. Tony cut more firewood and made a great (albeit unnecessary because it was warm) fire.

We made dinner and then just lay in the tent, looking up at the night sky. It was so beautiful. So perfect. Some decisions needed to be made. Tony was heading back in the morning. Was I going to continue on or head home? Was I going to go back into Hot Springs to hike that missing 20 miles or just start from here? Could I keep going? Could I watch him drive off and know I had weeks alone ahead of me? 

When we asked the shuttle driver why most people left the trail…assuming illness or injury…he answered with “boredom.” I understood that so deeply. I was bored of myself. Tired of my inner dialogs. I was lonely and depressed. I was missing home. Missing my girls. Missing this man. And on top of all that, I had lost my north star…I had no idea why I was out here. As we lay there looking at the sky, holding onto each other, Tony said, “I could never ask you to come home,” and I responded with, “I need to be asked.” Our eyes grew heavy and I rolled toward him – my hand on his face. Eye contact has always been his gift and you feel as though he can see right inside your head, to the thoughts and insecurities and secrets you hide there. I wanted to go home. 

It wasn’t an easy decision or even a decision at all, really. When dawn broke, I packed up and when we reached his truck, I simply got in instead of walking onward. I looked out the window as we drove. I cried a little. Then I thought about my girls and if we made it home quickly, I would get to spend the rest of the day with them before they left with their dad for vacation (they had spent the previous week with my mom in Florida on vacation, in case you are wondering). My tears dried up. I didn’t think about failing…not at this moment, though I would think about it a lot in the weeks to come. I softened toward myself and allowed myself some peace. I let my body relax into the comfort of the truck seats. I let my eyes sag and my shoulders slump. I was comfortable and that didn’t make me weak. I was needy and that didn’t make Tony pull away. 

What if there was a new world for me where I could need people and not fear their rejection…what if I could even embrace the possibility of getting hurt because without it, you never really put your whole self into anything. There is always risk and shouldn’t we welcome that? Instead of “be careful, you might get hurt” I say, “go get hurt” because I think I would rather die feeling than live not feeling. I think I want all the strongest feelings, not the watered-down, “safe” feelings. I think that’s the brave way to live and I hope I can live THAT life on more of the days ahead. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I am going to ask myself at every decision point…“What is the brave choice?” and I realize I won’t always choose it but I will always acknowledge it. This day, the brave choice for me was actually not continuing on the path I was on…it was climbing into an F150.