.png)
“You carrying?” Cal had driven his pickup truck right over the open field of the campground and couldn’t have pulled up closer to my campsite if he tried, his elbow-lean and head-swing out the driver’s window lending both a proprietary and avuncular intention. The diesel fumes from his pick-up continued to burn through the air between us as he let his engine run for the duration.
“Ah, no”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Why’s that?” I asked
“Pretty young thing like you. Should have some kind of weapon. Otherwise they’ll do what they want with you and then kill ya anyways so’s ya can’t tell on ‘em.” Oh, Cal.
Cal talked on for a bit and then got to his main point, letting me know the real danger out here was immigrants with guns, apparently a danger both to me as well as to Cal’s taxable income.
I had arrived at one of Southwest Florida’s Water Management District campgrounds at mid-afternoon, luckily pulling in after another female camper who showed me how to maneuver the locked gate – a complex and necessary procedure to ensure the integrity of this remote and protected free recreation area. As one of only three campers, and with ample space to maintain solitude, my initial thought was, wow, this is the spot for me!
The lane in was draped and dappled by the swag of live oaks which towered in canopy over saw palmetto and a mixture of young hardwood and scrub. As part of the Withlacoochee River watershed, Flying Eagle Wildlife Preserve is surrounded by the Tslala Apopka Chain of Lakes and is a puzzle of swamp, lake, and marsh that supports an abundance of wildlife and rare plants. Embedded Cypress stand like prehistoric gatekeepers along the waterways, creating a feel of isolation – an eerie addendum to my introversion.
Cal approached me a couple of hours after my arrival and our conversation began innocently enough. He was the self-appointed caretaker and picker-upper of trash, and apparently the rescuer of damsels pre-distress. He and his wife lived on the adjoining property and had the gate combo. “They don’t really want me in here,” he grinned. “But I clean up the place.”
Cal apparently had an agenda, other than wanting to make sure I was scared out there on my own. He wanted to make sure I knew who to be scared of.
It took me a beat, but in my middle aged, no longer giving-a-crap mind, any worries of appeasing this guy flew away.
“I am way more afraid of drunk white guys than I am of immigrants,” I replied, instantly hearing my mother in my head – Mary and her mouth.
“Really?,” Cal could not hide his surprise for a moment. “Ah, now I’ve got ya riled. I’m just kiddin' ya.”
Okay, Cal.
We then proceeded to have a neighborly conversation about the Ramper because, well, you know – I’m a woman and can’t let a man go away feeling bad. He told me his wife would love to see my setup and that I was welcome to stop by their place anytime. We parted with a smile, but I was left with an indistinct uneasiness that I was ill-prepared for solo camping, never mind the fact I’ve been doing it for years.
****
This exchange happened during a week I recently took to explore and test out my skills camping in more remote locations on my own. I had left the comfort and safety of my current campsite among friends and wanted to try out boondocking in various places as well as explore some of the free camping options the state of Florida has to offer.
Like most places we go, the energy of others is contagious and I have felt that my best “defense” is a positive attitude and a genuine smile. Yes, I do carry a safety whistle, pepper spray and a stun gun (which I learned how to use after a year on the road). However, none save the whistle and the smile do I ever see myself using. While there have been times over my decades of camping that I have felt uneasy and heeded my spidey-sense, never have I felt like I truly didn’t belong somewhere – until very recently.
Among the many “female” only traveling groups online, there is frequently a discussion of safety. We lament that oftentimes men do not understand that women and other fairer genders naturally expend more awareness energy when men are around. Matters are made much worse if a man approaches us, no matter the reason and no matter how innocuous they may seem. I can only speak for myself, but as a rule of thumb I would advise men to carefully consider before approaching a female camper for any reason, especially if they are alone. It may be hard to understand if you identify as male, but please take my word for it.
What Cal didn’t understand is that it was inappropriate for him to drive up to my campsite in a truck, by himself. As you can imagine, it sent my heart racing and my blood flying. Mix that together with his comment about my need for a gun, well – it’s a prime example of what a man should not do.
In mixed camping groups online, some men have responded that if a woman is afraid, she shouldn’t be camping alone. We are not afraid. It’s simple. We are not afraid, but we do become uncomfortable and wary when someone twice our size drives up to our site in a diesel fuming truck with details of our impending demise.
Ultimately, I am thankful for these types of encounters. Sometimes you don’t know what you don’t want until you experience it. I’ll trade in a little bit of solitude for the friends who love me.
We’ll leave the dismemberment worries and guns for those who are afraid.
For more information on Southwest Florida's Watershed Management District recreation opportunities and free camping options, please visit their website. Do be aware that air boats travel through or very near to some of these camping areas and are very loud.
Check out Gear I Love for links to products I use and honest reviews.