The Humbling Nature Experience. Or, How John Muir Taught Me How Awful Nature Can Be.

View of Penacook Lake on the Marjory Swope Trail

I've been having these Epic John Muir-esque Fantasies. Dreams where I should be backpacking in Acadia National Park, The Long Trail, and The Presidential Mountain Range. In these fantasies, I am dislodged from my dull routine life and finding my bliss among the mountains and forests of New England, living among the elements for a few weeks and becoming connected with the oneness of our amazing planet. Enlighten myself to nature and have the wild, rooted parts of my soul engaged with the beauty of near solitude.

So - on my day off - I decided to go take a hike. Disconnect from the computer, my books, my material possessions and take a walk in the woods alone. Maybe it would lift my spirits a bit and get me out of the house on a beautiful summer day.

My first mistake was waking up to the downpour.
Oh I thought. Well, maybe it will just be a sprinkle. It should clear up by the time I start my short hike. I laced up my swanky, expensive, waterproof hiking boots, grabbed an umbrella, and headed off to the trailhead in my car. The rain didn't let up. That's okay! I won't melt, I have an umbrella! I started my way up the incredibly short, beautiful jaunt around the Marjory Swope Trail.

The second, bigger mistake was being unprepared.

Even though I have lived in New Hampshire most of my life, even though I knew how to read a map, even though I read books and heard plenty of news stories about how terribly awful the weather can get if you are unprepared for ANY trail. I still pushed all warnings to the back of my skull. I may be a novice hiker, but I still know how to hike, or so I thought.

I have an anxiety disorder, it makes me overthink a lot of scenarios and then those almost always snowball into irrational thoughts. An example would be: BRING PLENTY OF WATER IN CASE YOU GET LOST. OH, AND BRING A WHISTLE TOO IN CASE YOU FIND YOURSELF ATTACKED BY VAGABONDS. Kinda like that. It got so bad today that I chickened out 5 times before leaving my house this morning, purely because I was scared to go hiking alone. Anxiety Kelso said: MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T DO THIS TRAIL BY YOURSELF, THERE COULD BE ROVES OF MURDERERS CAMPING OUT THERE READY TO RAPE YOU. AND BESIDES, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE TRAIL VERY WELL. But I decided to ignore my brain and just go for it. I would be in town, the trail looked more like a nature walk than an actual hike, and it was short enough that I would be back to my car in less than an hour. I didn't feel it was necessary to weigh myself down with a backpack full of things you would typically bring on a hike, medicine, bug spray, snacks, and - oh yeah - water. The only things I carried were my keys, my umbrella, and my cell phone.   You will be fine. I told Anxiety Kelso before heading out onto the trail. Quit being a baby. 

However, there is a fine line between irrational, anxiety thoughts and being safely cautious. Most of the time I am packing at least a water bottle and my epipen, even if I'm taking a short walk down to the store. But on this particular day, I wanted to be blissfully ignorant, I needed my John Muir Fantasy so badly that I was pushing back all thoughts, rational and irrational. I'm getting on that trail and I'm going to find some goddamn happiness. And I did, and I'm happy I went. I had fun going off by myself and letting go of all my everything. When I reached the vista with the breathtaking views of Peanacook Lake, I felt happy to be alive. I sat down in the dirt and meditated with my eyes closed (I had to force them shut since I still felt like someone was going to sneak up on me and stab me in the back) for a few minutes. Nothing but the rain, the view, and the ground. I felt wild, free, recharged, and wonderful.


By the time I stood back up, I realized the walk took me 10 minutes total. I wanted to stay out in the woods longer. I had the choice of walking back to the car and driving back home, or finishing up the loop and having more time to enjoy the solitude of the woods. I looked at my phone, It was "beep" "beep" "beep"-ing at me. The battery almost dead, I forgot to plug it in last night to recharge. No matter though, Surely the other half of the walk will take me 20 minutes. It will hold out until then. BUT WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU GET HURT? THERE IS NOBODY ELSE OUT HERE ON A WEDNESDAY MORNING. EXCEPT FOR MAYBE RAPISTS. Anxiety Kelso came back in full swing, WE SHOULD JUST GET BACK TO THE CAR AND GO GET SOME DELICIOUS FRO-YO. WHO CARES HOW FAT WE GET? She had a point, fro-yo is delicious and something I wanted since not only did I not grab a bottle of water before heading out, I also forgot to eat today as well. But this is a great way to lose weight and get active! Besides, this is what you wanted to do today, right? get out of the house and get some exercise. We will be okay, I promise, let's finish up the trail. We were off before Anxiety Kelso could state her case.

Not 10 minutes after this interaction, -- Around the time I started thinking about why Americans work too much and it's unfair that we are only allotted 2 weeks of vacation a year (less in some other jobs) while Europeans get, like, 4 months off -- That I heard a buzzing sound around my right ear. I quickly swatted my hand up, trying to shoo whatever it was away. Only to see seconds later that it wasn't in fact a black fly, but a big ass, motherfucking yellow jacket. And he was ANGRY.  I then realized I had made a huge mistake.

The Final, Grandaddy of All Mistakes: I left my epipen in the car.

I am allergic to yellowjackets, a trait that - along with green eyes, sass for days, and deep rooted sarcasm -  was picked up from my mother's genetic code. I-fortunately- never have been stung by a yellowjacket before, but have taken that allergy test about 3 years ago and since then the doctor has informed me that I should not go hiking without an epipen in my bag. I only bring it with me when we go on long day hikes or if we're camping overnight in some woods. But most of the time it's sitting in a cupboard at home, or in the glovebox in my car. But today, on all days, my epipen was safely tucked away in the glovebox where it has always been for the last 6 months.

I became the gradmaster of trail running. I am screeching at the top of my lungs, hoping my terror will scare it off. Praying to every deity I know, making compromises. "Go away! You can't have my body! Please just go away!" I am kicking myself in the ass, I should have listened to reason. I am unprepared, fuck nature. I'm out. John Muir was a crazy old man. Fuck this bullshit. There's real danger out here. I want to find shelter, a place were there isn't any yellowjackets, or bears, or rapists, or rapey bears with yellowjackets for dicks. I want to go home. I'm done.

After I slow down, the buzzing stopped. I outran death. HAHA! At this point, my throat is thick with mucus. I am famished and woozy, I start to sit down and rest for a moment. I swipe my hair off of my face...

and I touch an angry yellowjacket.
That motherfucker is tangled in my goddamn hair.
..I start to run, and do not stop until I reach the car. All the while he is buzzing around my head, most likely scared himself. He wants OUT.
I am shaking my head, running, screaming "GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, PLEASE!" sobbing, panting, banging and swinging my umbrella around and over my head. I don't care if I die of anaphylactic shock; I am in Hell and I want this to be over.

Somehow, I make it back to the car. The yellowjacket is still in my hair. THERE ISN'T MUCH TIME, GET YOUR HAIRBRUSH AND GET IT OUT!!!! I nosedive for my hairbrush and start to yank rapidly at my hair. He wiggles himself free--and starts to chase me around the parking lot. "FUCK OFF MOTHERFUCKER! YOU'RE FREE, I'M BIGGER THAN YOU AND I DON"T WANT TO HURT YOU, BUT BY CHRIST IF YOU GET NEAR ME I WILL CRU-AAAHHH!!!!"
I thrust headlong into the car and slam the door closed.
The yellowjacket is banging itself over and over on the windshield. He is on a suicide mission of magnitude proportions. Out for my blood, wishing death on me because I carted him away from his home. I on the other hand am hysterically laughing at the whole scenario I have found myself in. Eventually he buzzes off unto the wild unknown woods of West Concord and I start chugging the 2 bottles of water that I have gloriously left in my car.