The Psyche of True Fear

I want to tell you a little story about the psyche of true fear. Well, it's a bit long, but fun:

Steph, Duncan and I went camping for the first time since moving to Colorado Saturday morning (Duncan's first time camping ever!). We went out to Lost Creek Wilderness, a huge remote national park, on the recommendations from Ricardo and Melana Baca. Looked up the forestry website and see that we should be on the alert for bears and mountain lions.

I call Ricardo: "bro, I don't do bears and mountain lions. Have you ever seen them around your campsite?"

Ricardo: "man, I've been there 25 times with the chiweenies and have never seen or heard them once."

Good enough for us.

We head out. Ricardo's directions said the camp area they usually frequent is only 15 minutes from the highway, but still quite remote. However, I misunderstood something about his directions and we drove about 40 minutes from the highway DEEP into the park. Found an INCREDIBLE campsite on a hill overlooking all the mountains around us dotted with brilliant golden Aspens and overlooking the Lost Creek below with yellow, orange, and red brush surrounding it. BREATHTAKING.

Our campsite is huge, we set everything up, take Duncan on a hike (there's a murder story just about this, by the way, but that's for another time).

Realize I haven't told anyone in my family where we are, and there's ZERO cell phone signal anywhere close to our site. We drive the 40 min. back to the highway and send off a few texts with our coordinates. I text Ricardo about my directional confusion. He says "yeah, I never go that deep into the wilderness. Have fun!" (this plays a little later).

We get back, start a fire, make food, crack a beer, start really enjoying ourselves. The sun goes down to one of the starriest nights we've ever witnessed. The moon is nowhere to be seen. It's dark. Like black hole dark. We're dancing under the stars with sticks we had in the fire that have glowing embers on the end, sky writing.

Then, all of a sudden, we hear a bunch of voices howling in the night. At first, we think it's the 6+ campers about 1/2 a mile away who were driving ATVs and shooting guns all day. But then the voices turn exceptionally animal, and they're about 1000 yards away.

Steph and I quickly discuss and realize this is a pack of coyotes, and they're closing in fast.

[Disclaimer: Steph and I have NEVER encountered or heard a single coyote in our lives. We have never read or researched or talked with anyone about what happens if you do.]

We see Duncan is keyed up and walking out to the brush, but you can't see the brush or anything in it. Like I said, black hole dark.

We freak out and grab him off of his tether, I grab my hatchet, and we get in the car closing all the doors. We sit quietly for a few minutes listening.

I crack the door open a little because, while I'm worried about the coyotes, we had just thrown a huge piece of deadwood on the fire and without tending to it, it could get unruly and start a wildfire if we're not careful. I'm staring back at the fire and listening for the pack.

After a few more minutes, we make a plan. I'm going to go over to the fire and leave Dunc and Steph in the car. If it seems like nothing is around us, I'll put a pot of water on the fire for tea, and come back to the car. If all is safe, we'll keep Dunc on our short leash near us while we drink some tea and chill out until the fire dies, then get fortified in the tent.

After all, Ricardo hasn't ever encountered wildlife in 25 trips to this place. "But he hasn't ever gone this far into the wilderness before," I say. We're out there.

We get back to the fire, pour a cup of tea or two, smoke a little cannabis and try to calm down. The hatchet is always in my lap. I mostly keep my hand on it at all times. I keep my headlamp on the red light setting so I can see the reflections of eyes if coyotes approach, and if that happens, Steph takes Dunc to the car while I fight the pack. Yeah. Me fighting a pack of coyotes with an old dull hatchet. Perfect plan.

The tea goes down nicely because it's COLD out, high 30's. But it and the joint just don't really calm our nerves much at all. The fire is about 1 hour from death. That's when we hear the pack howl again.

Dunc goes back in the car. Steph and i quickly pack up all provisions around the campsite and put them in the trunk of the car, all the while searching for the pack. She has a grilling pitchfork, I have the hatchet.

Camp packed, we both watch duty while the other pees. Then into the tent with Duncan.

He passes out quickly, hardly bothered. We try and play some dominoes to get out of our head. However, we're still convinced the coyotes may try and get to us, so we have a plan for that too. Steph holds Dunc in the middle of the tent while I use the hatchet to hit the coyotes in the head as they push into the tent's sides. We're convinced this is a possibility.

The cold gets the better of us and we decide to try and cuddle up and pass out.

This doesn't really happen for the entire night. I have this lizard brain adrenaline coursing through me so I can protect my family. I'm laying with the hatchet 6 inches from me so I can whack a coyote head if it presses into the tent. Duncan is snoring. I try to use this as info to calm myself with; if Dunc is snoring, he's clearly not concerned. And if an animal were to approach, he'd be up and barking immediately.

It doesn't work. Finally, daylight.

Woke up, drank some campfire coffee, ate some cereal with berries, did some yoga on the hillside overlooking the mountains in the sunrise, read books and had a wonderful day.

We get home Sunday evening, and I immediately start researching how many animal attacks occur in Lost Creek Wilderness. Can't find anything. Then I research coyotes.

Turns out, they almost never attack adult humans, unless it's a lone yote with rabies. However, they do attack small children and pets. But they scare away really easily, usually just with some loud noises.

Point being, we weren't really in any true danger.

But we thought we were. That's all it took. Fear was the only emotion we could feel. Every sound became a threat. The vulnerability of the wilderness was intense.

Next time we go back we'll know better. And probably come better armed, just in case.

Successful first camping trip?