By Carol Lena Martin
. . . I’d let nothing ruin the start of my new year and heard a quiet voice reminding me that ‘how you feel on your birthday sets up the emotional tone for the entire year.’ Shooing away the hummingbirds, so I could light the stove, I asked for two things for today: to finish the final chapter on the Camping Alone book and to see the pair of ravens.
After tea and a walk with Maya, I started writing. What a thrill to complete the work just as the two ravens crossed overhead! They flew up to the top of Castle Rock, then spiraled down as one. What an exclamation point in answer to my requests, especially when they kept repeating it! Flying away together, they called goodbye. I placed the manuscript in the van and headed for a hike into the wilderness. I saw Norma Jean as I passed her RV and told her I’d be back in time for dinner.
Crossing on the bridge over Sop Creek, I caught myself looking longingly at Castle Rock, lit up by the setting sun. Jumping on the stones over the babbling brook, I felt the same nostalgia, which continued for the rest of my hike. Intense love for the wilderness flooded me, along with gratefulness for the animals, the elk, bear, mountain lions, and of course, the deer having such a beautiful home.
Turning back, I tried reasoning the cause of my wistfulness which persisted, almost like I were seeing everything for the last time, even though I had no plans for leaving. What was it? Two deer standing high up on the mountain watched me until I walked past the cliffs and crossed though the sagebrush. Were they saying goodbye? No way, I argued.
After Norma Jean’s delicious spaghetti dinner and a glass of champagne, I headed back to camp and went to bed. What a perfect birthday, and what a dream I had, the most intense I could ever remember. . . . . ..
“LOST IN OKLAHOMA’ Heading through the multi-colored mountains up to the Oklahoma Panhandle, I decided to camp at Optima, just past Hardesty on the Beaver River, that is if I could find it in the isolated, remote area after only one time there. Optima is a large, expensive Army Corp of Engineers project for a wildlife refuge, camping, and picnic area; it was built back in the fifties, but no one came, and they closed down the campgrounds.
On my last trip there, my friend Eagle Bob had directed me on his cell phone into the hidden camping spot in Optima, so we could watch the migration of the sandhill cranes. It was about the same time of the year.
This time, there were no cranes, my aching shoulders plagued me, my hands kept falling asleep on the wheel, and Eagle Bob wasn’t answering his phone. It got darker and darker, until I became concerned about missing the little road off the main highway heading up to the abandoned refuge. Turning around several times and almost giving up, I finally found the road.
However, there was no relief since a ‘road out’ sign stood posted by the narrow lane. I kept going, but couldn’t see a thing. How would I ever find the obscure turn into the old bath house, which overlooked the marsh far below, provided shelter, and had a flat spot for my tent?
Fearing the road ending and seeing a turnoff rise out of the dark, I took it. Nothing looked familiar. With the tiny, white lane overcome by weeds, I strained to see it in the headlights. Several times I came to the same spot where the lane ended and dropped off into a ditch. After hours of exasperation, I realized I was going around in circles. I did my best to find a way out. The grasses got deeper and covered the road completely, or I should say, roads, since they kept spinning me around and spitting me out. “What a foreign place!” The short, brambly, windblown trees and their prickly sticks were getting crushed under the tires.
Recalling Adele’s warning about not panicking and taking deep breaths, I finally stopped, sat there in the pitch black, and admitted that I was completely and utterly lost. My dream had come true.
After another hour, I gave up and started searching for a place to camp on the harsh, rolling ground. There was no spot available. I kept going until one distorted tree caught my attention. Shining the flashlight under the tree, I saw what resembled flat ground, though it would be the most uncomfortable site possible to pitch my tent and sleep on.
Getting out of the car with my headlamp on, I started tossing sticks, lots of them, and the spot was still layered with more prickly, sharp ones embedded in the grass. Concerned about puncturing the tent on such terrain, I got scratched and scraped as I drove in the stakes. Getting inside to roll out the bed, I got poked, so I moved as carefully as possible.
Feeding Maya and heating up my lentil soup, which I was happy to have made the night before, I ate and went right to bed. I dreamed that a strong wind blew through. It woke me up and I heard the nearby tree shaking, the sticks falling on the tent and the grass whipping, then flattening. The wind strengthened and thrust the tent to and fro.
Listening to the tree howling and thrashing, I knew the wind was symbolizing change. I recalled the last time I’d camped with Eagle Bob, perched on the top of the cliff by the old bath house, when a wild, eighty-mile-an-hour Panhandle wind like this one blew through. Only it had almost succeeded in tossing the tent over the cliff with Maya and me inside; it had blown down the tent and forced us into the van. I now realized that this time the tree was protecting us. I thanked nature for keeping us safe, by causing me to get lost and forcing me to camp elsewhere.
Lulled back to sleep by the wind, I felt watched over . . . . .
. . . . . I looked around the area in uncertainty, but at least I had daylight, which made it a different world. I hauled my bedding to the van and took down the tent. I thanked nature for the safe bed. The tree appeared less gnarly and the road less grassy as I started the van.
Rounding the first hairpin curve, something told me to turn around. Driving past the same tree where I’d camped, just a stone’s throw away, I came to a stop sign. To my shock, I turned left onto the main campground road, drove past the circles and pulled up to the Optima Road.
“Wow!” I gasped and told Maya. “Look how close we were to finding our way out last night. It was meant to be, to keep us safe. Unbelievable! Did nature just play a trick on us?” Turning right up to the hill where Eagle Bob and I had camped, I parked, still shaking my head, and checked out out the previous spot where we’d pitched the tent under the pines. Some animal had been sleeping there, and we’d have taken its bed. Amazing how it worked out, I though, staring over the cliff at the water far below.
Back on the highway, I called Eagle Bob. “Aw, Twinkle Toes, you were in the old campground with all those circling roads, but only one way in and one way out. Like a maze, huh?” he said, laughing.
“It didn’t feel funny last night. I almost went off into the old creek bed. I’d have been stuck there.”
“Hey, listen. Stay in touch, and we’ll meet up somewhere. So, stop going around in circles;” he started singing Billy Preston’s, “Will it go around in circles,” laughed and said goodbye.
His voice reassured me that my biggest challenge was over and smooth sailing lay ahead . . . .
. . . . As I finished the dream, alarm spread over (my sister’s) face, then a well of understanding filled her eyes. “I completely get why you feel so disrespected and I know why,” she said, when a spasm knotted my stomach, rattled my nerves, and caused my hands to shake. Sipping the tea, I almost spilled it.
“I know you don’t remember this, but as I told you last summer, all three of us sisters were sexually abused. Now, I wanted to tell you what he did, so you can start to heal. I know this is terrible news to bring it up again, but I have more to tell you, and I have a feeling that you’re not dealing with it. I apologize again for waiting so long…”
My jaw dropped, and I started shaking all over. The blood drained from my face. Too overwhelmed to respond, I got nauseous and didn’t think I could hear it. Folding my arms on the table, I rested my throbbing head while she rubbed my back and apologized again for not telling me more details sooner.
Several minutes passed before I could raise my head. “I..I don’t think I can hear it,” I stuttered, sounding like a frog croaking. With her lips pinched, she slowly shook her head and added how well she understood.
As I glanced through the window, my eyes searching for something familiar, a lost feeling stabbed me. I choked. “I..I don’t recall him doing anything to me.”
“At five, you squelched it. But not completely; that’s why I want to give you the facts. At nine, I became his main target, but not totally. When you, Anne, and I shared the bed with him, he molested all three of us. He probably didn’t even remember it. Just coming back from the war, he stayed drunk on moonshine, but that was no excuse. I think I blamed Mama for a while for not protecting us, but it didn’t help,” she said, pausing and wringing her hands again before continuing, her voice cracking.
Still holding my hand over my mouth and feeling sick at my stomach, I put up my hand for her to stop. I sat up straight and found my voice. “At some level, I must’ve known since I’ve had so many dreams I never understood. And my super suspicious mind, about not letting any of the men I’ve been with be around Leigha before thoroughly checking them out, has been way over the top. That explains why I don’t remember anything before the age of five. It must’ve thrown me into shock.”
Starting to lose control, I pushed back my chair and rose, but plopped back down. I fought back the tears. “It doesn’t make sense, yet the more I think it over, it makes complete sense. How about that picture of me sitting on the high round table? It was like night and day from my previous year’s picture of me with all the dolls in my lap. My hair had darkened along with my skin, my eyes squinting and sad, and clearly a very unhappy child. The fact that something very bad had happened to me visible clung to me in the photo. Why didn’t any adults notice something that obvious? It must have been the same with you,” I said as she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. So did I.
“I’m glad I don’t remember what he did; thanks for not telling me, even though it still hurts like hell.”
”Now, do you understand your dream this morning? Early on, you judged yourself as unworthy of respect. That was a harsh sentence; I should know. And look what you did to cover it up. A supervisor with United Air Lines, a loved and honored tenured professor. A writer on book tours. Doing it all for the outward respect, which you totally got. But underneath, that old belief about yourself was still alive. At least, now you can change it to match who you really are. Do it, and you’ll relieve me of feeling so bad about staying quiet all these years,” she said, hugging me again. Looking deep into my eyes, she asked me for the impossible. At least, in that moment.
“As I said, when you can, try to forgive him. Otherwise, it’ll only hurt you more to hold onto it. His being an alcoholic is no excuse, but he also just came back from fighting the Nazis on the coast of Africa and in Italy, which ruined him for life. Again, no excuse, but you’ll feel a little bit better.”
Suffocating, as though a pillow pressed on my face, I gasped for breath and had to bolt. Seeing the panic on my face, she held onto my arm with a firm grip until I promised to call her later.
Feeling guilty for running out on the grandkids without saying goodbye, I jumped in the van and stomped on the gas. I made it to the main road, pulled over under a big oak, and collapsed into tears.
A knowing, invading feeling ripped through me and created tension in all my joints. Ugh! It felt like some ferocious, wild animal lying dormant all my life had just been awakened and pounced on me. After a while, my shock gave way to anger and shaped my hands into fists.
The worst part was the shame I’d repressed, then projected onto my family. All it took was the shameful behavior of my uncle to have shamed us all. I cried for that little girl who had her innocence stolen and for my sisters. It felt the same as the previous summer. I had no clue about how to heal it, but knew to start with forgiveness, which in no way could I do. Sitting up and wiping my tears, I steadied my nerves and turned on the van. I needed wilderness.
And down to Alligator Slough’s small parking space. After a long walk through the ancient cypress forest growing in the water, I crossed the footbridge and never took my eyes off the seven-foot alligator sunning on the log beside the lineup of turtles. A big beaver swam under the bridge and looked up at me with its dark eyes; it lifted my spirits a little. So did the peacefulness of the shady, thousands-year-old, moss-covered cypress trees and the duckweed-covered water with fish breaking the surface. Except for the Pileated woodpecker calling to me as it flew over, everything stood still and quiet. I took a deep breath.
Sitting on the bridge, I sat down and did my best to give thanks for being courageous enough to face it again since I could not understand the cause of so many of my challenges in relationships. Lying down on the bench, I closed my eyes and surrendered to the calming energy. Meditating for hours, I finally experienced some control inside, rose, and walked back to the van, pulled up on the levee, then turned left on the highway, and called Adele. . .
. . . “NORTH FLORIDA” The long stretch of highway absorbed my thoughts, while on the way to my favorite camping spot in Northern Florida. Over thirteen hours away, it passed quickly, and I was soon turning onto the country roads leading to the campsite. Questioning whether I could pitch my tent with frozen shoulders, I quickly dismissed the thought and turned onto the white sandy lane. “Nature will heal me.”
The wet prairie’s lily ponds stretched into the darkness. The black cloud over my head disappeared as soon as I heard the frogs’ chorus. It felt so good to be back. Crossing under the ancient live oaks with the long strands of Spanish moss like waifs in the wind brushing against the windshield, I sensed the animals all around and rolled down the window. “Hello bear, fox, deer, armadillos, alligators, coyotes, turtles, snakes, did I miss anyone, I’m back,” I yelled and created a rustle in the quiet empty hammock.
“Perfect. No humans,” I said, pulling into the smaller hammock that borders on the south ponds, I shined the headlight on the trees, grabbed my tent, cut a path through the knee-high grasses, and yelled to the pygmy rattlers, “Coming through,” stomping my feet. Though their bite isn’t deadly like their bigger cousins, they can make you very sick.
Pitching the tent on the flat spot under the big oak, I positioned it so I could gaze through the archway and watch the planets rise. After finishing and patting myself on the back for pushing through the shoulder pain, I brushed off my hands and stepped through the archway to the prairie. The sky opened up with millions of stars. Orion came into full view with the Big Dog shining the blue light of Sirius in its eye.
After feeding Maya and eating Anne’s delicious food, I placed everything back in the van that would attract the bears. Making my bed, I crawled into its softness and fell asleep. . . .
. . . . I awoke to some noise by the picnic table. It was a bear, but for the first time ever, I had no fear. Since the bear in Alaska didn’t kill me when it had a chance, I felt safe. With great respect for the bear, I kept Maya quiet until it moved away. I went back to sleep and slept late.
What a joy to wake up in nature! The resident pair of Sand Hill cranes flew over with their daily alarm clock, their loud shrill call bringing everything awake. They landed in the prairie. I gave thanks and took several deep breaths before getting up and making tea. . . .
. . . . After breakfast, I put up the hammock, swung, wrote on my new book, and relaxed in the shady hammock. The time sped by. At sunset, I walked for a few miles on the Florida Trail around the edge of the series of lily ponds, smelled the perfumed scent of the gallberry blossoms, checked out the blueberries and huckleberries, with most of them eaten by the bears, and was greeted by the Florida Scrub Jays, only found in the dune habitat of Florida, primarily consisting of small live oaks, sea grapes, and railroad vines.
With the birds’ numbers diminishing over the years from the loss of their home, I felt uplifted to see them and hear their chatter. They never failed to say hello to me, their blue breasts shining in the setting sun. Because I’m always worried about them, they wanted me to know they were still there, despite their low odds for survival.
After feeding Maya and eating the remainder of Anne’s chicken dumplings and a salad, I put everything away and went to bed early. During the night, I awakened to loud sounds that only a bear could make looking for food. “None here,” I said. Hearing his crashing heavy paws as he scampered away, I gave a sigh of relief. While the Alaskan brown bear had spared my life and made me drop most of my fear of being killed by one, my heart skips a beat to have one close by. Now deep respect for them prevails.
I quickly went back to sleep and was soon dreaming about another shadowy man who stole the key to my van and tried to rape me; however, he got stopped by a group of women who took him to their hospital where a war was going on. I retrieved my key, but my van wouldn’t start.
Waking up to the cranes’ alarm clock, right on time, I got out and made tea. Checking the time and calling Adele . . . .