The Two Hiking Women Who Helped

Okay. I wanted to hike pretty badly. For some reason, I wanted to hike alone. Although, I’d never done this before. I always felt too paranoid and scared about predators—both the human and animal kind. So, instead of pursuing those desires, I texted my friend late on the night before the morning I intended to make my way into the mountains.

Of course, she was busy.

The desire pulled at me. Go hiking. I thought over the logistics, remembered all the people I’d ever seen hike alone, and remembered all my friends who had returned alive from their own lone venture in the woods. Okay, I told myself, I’ll give it a try.

Deciding to go early in the morning without checking when the sun would rise was my first mistake. The dark scared me as a little girl, and while I’ve overcome that, it still intensifies my other fears—paranoia of kidnapping or cougars murdering. The minatory mountains didn’t look inviting, but some part of them also seemed, you know, somewhat nice. An intimidating beauty.

In the parking lot, with my car heater on, I quickly googled if cougars were currently prevalent in the area. I didn’t search deep enough to discover the answer, but I found a website that warned how to avoid them and advised what to do if you encountered one. WARNINGS: Don’t hike at dusk or dawn. Don’t hike near bushes or ledges. Don’t hike alone.

My hike heavily included all of those things. If I didn’t feel so scared, I would have laughed at myself. I had planned this poorly. Be brave, I internally insisted, be brave.

At some point, the man parked next to me looked at me oddly, as if wondering why I were there so early. He disappeared, and I shrugged it off until he came up on the path behind me. We were both using flashlights, although mine was powered by my rapidly draining phone battery, which would hopefully last me the thirty minutes it would take for the sun to come up—if I was still safe and alive at that point.

The man ran past me, and eventually I ran past him, and then he lagged behind for some reason. Maybe to stay inconspicuously close to me. Man, I didn’t enjoy that idea. And then I made it to the bushy, tree ridden area that also had plenty of ledges for cougars to watch for prey on. I tried to listen to my book while listening for any threatening noises, but I couldn’t stand it.

I could not hike alone. Not in the dark. I’d have to turn back, waste thirty minutes sitting in my car, and go back up with less time to enjoy the mountains—if I didn’t lose motivation and just drive home.

I passed that man again, and I still don’t know what he was doing, but he wasn’t kidnapping me so that made me feel alright. I hadn’t gone far, so it wouldn’t take long for me to get near the parking lot, but as I made my way down I saw two women, likely in their late 50’s or early 60’s.

I passed them too, but then I had an idea. I turned around and ran up to them, speaking before I surprised them by an unexpected appearance. Feeling like a young schoolgirl, I said, “Hi. Do you guys mind if I hike with you? I’ve never hiked alone before, and I get a little freaked out.”

They welcomed me to join. I explained my paranoia (of the cougars, for I unfortunately felt ashamed of the “being kidnapped in the mountains” fear), and they assured me the trails there were typically safe because of their heavy traffic (even early in the morning). That provided some extra comfort in my steps as I made the ascent, but as you may have guessed, I was still not going to go venture off into the dark on my own.

For the next half hour I talked to the women and learned more about them; they had become friends meeting on a hike; they loved their grandchildren; for that reason, they had chosen to live in that city. Then, the sun had come up and lit the entire pathway, and no area ahead of me looked dark.

I thanked the two women for letting me accompany them on their hike and then I ran off on my own—literally, I ran ahead to avoid the awkwardness of the slow separation a slightly quicker walking pace would have given. Also, I was freezing.

The trodden down snow weaved on a higher incline and reached a narrow path by a drop-off. Once I reached the peak of that path, I saw snow covered mountains with spots of blue created by the trees poking out. The mountains presented themselves through an open space on a cliff’s edge. I had been there before, but the beauty still filled my soul. I had made it.

My morning time ran low at that point, so I decided to turn back and run down to the car. As I bounced down the mountain, I felt like a kid rolling down their first hill: Happy, excited, and somewhat cautious. Truly, this hike had uplifted me just as I hoped it would.

I may never have done it, or I may not have made it to that picturesque spot if it weren’t for those two hiking women who helped. They welcomed me—the paranoid girl—in the most friendly manner. Then, they helped erase any frightened feelings by providing me with their reassurances, their company, and their kind conversation. They could have let me hike next to them and ignored me, but instead, they made my acquaintance.

I may never see those women again, although I hope sometime I’ll run into them on the trail. For these women had assisted me in my silly time of need. It was a small thing, wanting to gain the courage to hike alone (in a safe way), but they helped me get that small thing. For that, I am grateful.

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To stay safe on your hikes, learn what I did when I read about cougars.