The Path to Change

As I approach the Eastern part of the country, I notice a change in the vibe. Of course, throughout Missouri, Indiana, and Ohio I was cruising through mostly farm regions. It lacked the comfort level I was used to in Minnesota and Wisconsin. I can’t tell whether I was just stepping out of my own personal comfort zone of the upper Midwest or if it was truly a different tone in the local personalities. I’ve now lost count the number of times people have met me on my travels and asked if I carry a concealed gun for protection. I never got that question in MN and WI (with the exception of my pro-gun brothers). It makes me more wary that I even have to be asked that question, not because I suspect people will do me harm, but more so that people defend themselves with guns. I stayed for almost a week in Missouri and a few more days in Indiana, and I felt comfortable answering that question with, “No, but I have other means of protection.” When I hit the backwoods of Ohio, though, I was noticeably more uncomfortable answering that.

 I arrived at my dispersed campsite at Timbre Ridge Lake near small little Scottown, OH with the help of a local who—once I got lost after his attempt to give me directions—led me to the lake on his four-wheeler. As soon as I set up my tent, the local fishermen gave me a look like, “Who’s this random South Dakota girl and what is she doing way the hell out here?” To the first two people that asked whether I had a gun on me, I responded with my usual answer, but by the time the third person asked (who happened to be rugged, tattooed, and fishing shirtless with a cigarette hanging from his lip… not that it mattered, but it gave me a biased vibe) I answered with a confident, “Yep.”  I played through all the potentially dangerous situations in my head.  What if they were asking me not with the intent to make sure I was okay, but with the curiosity of their ability to take advantage of me? The fishermen seemed sincere in their attempts to warn me about traveling alone until the shirtless one chuckled and said, “You’re pretty far out here, no one would even hear you scream.”  I got a pit in my stomach. I had to be careful. I made sure I had my whistle on my neck, both my knives on my belt, and mace in my pocket.

 I got really lucky though, as if the universe gifted me some angelic peace of mind, when a kind young gentleman stopped by to take a swim in the lake. He was much cleaner than the others I met, and seemed upbeat, respectful, and friendly. Not the kind of “friendly” I experienced when the guy on the four-wheeler offered to lead me down the road with the remark, “Not too often we get any pretty girls like you passing through here.”  I like to think everyone has good intentions that too often get misinterpreted by untrusting people, especially since these are merely small town farmers—not gang members, so I rolled the dice cautiously. But I was ready to bail out of there until the younger gentleman showed up. We got to conversing for several hours, most of it while swimming until the sun began to set, and he offered me his 20” machete for additional protection, and more likely to be used for gathering firewood (I made it clear I had an axe for that, but he insisted for his own comfort), and some utility rope. He was considerably more trustworthy than the others, and even agreed to stick around until nightfall when everyone else in the park left, making sure no one gave me any trouble. He assured me that the probability that I’d be fine was in my favor, but simply stated, “People will mostly just hit on you. No need to worry; just be cautious.”  He even came back in the morning to check on me and help me pack up my things, bringing some McDonald’s breakfast with (as hard as it was not to complain about the food source, I bit my tongue and didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth).  The entire experience is a very specific, single scenario which anyone reading this—especially my worried family—will most likely be thinking at this point something along the lines of, “You could have been killed or raped out there!” or “This is exactly what I’ve been losing sleep over!!”   But I needed this experience. To err on the side of caution has been drilled into me since I brought up my plans to travel. But I could get killed crossing the street, or eating contaminated food, or in a hometown car accident, or off-road biking, or falling out of a tree…. All things in life come with potential risk. Was this experience worth the trouble and discomfort? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Maybe, maybe not. To see this lake at sunset with an unpolluted night sky—complete with a meteor shower even—and the pleasant company of a kind stranger is one of the reasons I embarked on this adventure. To assume that all potential social risks will end catastrophically is simply illogical and bigoted. That kind of prejudice is part of the fuel that tears this country’s people apart. Intolerance will not get you anywhere but into a dreadful comfort zone, in my opinion anyway. What did I get out of this experience? The opportunity to meet some kind strangers with stories and useful advice, a badass machete, some rope, a flashlight (from one of the older fishermen), a wonderful swim in an exceptionally clean lake, free breakfast, breathtaking scenery of a calm lake reflecting the Milky Way, a place to eat and sleep, and the experience of small town backwoods, Ohio. Am I going to remember that strangers can be helpful when I cautiously open myself up to them? Yes.  Am I going to go forth assuming all people are sincere with good intentions? Of course not. I once wrote a poem about a bee when I was back up at Round River farm in Minnesota. Perhaps it can apply to more than just a bee, hmm?

“That looks like a bee,” as it hovers around me
It stops is flight and gives me a fright
Is it going to sting me?
I should run away and come back when it leaves for the day
I thought it was gone but I was wrong
Should I let her dance or take away its chance
and kill it before it hurts me?
To end a precious life for an avoidance of strife
doesn’t sound fair at all
Tit for tat but don’t strike first
and things will be harmonious at worst

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Soooo worth it.