Except for my pounding heart the night was still. The adrenaline that had just surged through me was beginning to ebb. I tried not to shake. I was frightened. My courage seemed to take leave of me. I had no idea where I was. It was hard to think. Was I past the camp ground or before the camp ground? And shouldn't I get off the beach in case they come back. Yes, I decide. I turn into the narrow cobblestone streets. I find a hotel. The man at the desk does not know where the camp ground is. I can see he cannot help me and I go back out onto the street. My heart pounds and my fear mounts. It is so dark. I have no choice. I head back to the beach and then as I get my bearings I realize I am before the camp ground. It was difficult to recognize the place because it was closed and gated. In fact the gate was locked. I scaled the wall. I landed in the camp site court yard. A man had been watching me. He now stepped forward to question me. I began to babble.
It was then a kind of a miracle happened. He recognized I was traumatized and began talking to me in a soft calm voice, telling me I was safe, and that it was all alright. He said he was a retired fire chief from Orillia, Ontario. I guess he knew how to speak to victims in shock. He spoke to me gently for a long time. He told me little stories. Did he give me a blanket? I don't remember. I know he walked me to my camper in the black night. I will be forever grateful to this man.
It was then a kind of a miracle happened. He recognized I was traumatized and began talking to me in a soft calm voice, telling me I was safe, and that it was all alright. He said he was a retired fire chief from Orillia, Ontario. I guess he knew how to speak to victims in shock. He spoke to me gently for a long time. He told me little stories. Did he give me a blanket? I don't remember. I know he walked me to my camper in the black night. I will be forever grateful to this man.
 |
| Mount Shasta |
Rather incredibly the gentleman I was travelling with didn't believe me. He turned a deaf ear, rolled away from me, and ignored me. I ran a theory or two as to why this might be so. Somehow the morning came. By then the news of what had happened was all over the campground. I heard later that the priest gave a sermon in the local church that day, gringos are not just "marks" but people too. The lady who owned the campground brought me buns.
I was so weary. My heart and soul were heavy. I just wanted to go home. This was it for me. Finally, after all was said and done, I remember driving past Mount Shasta in California. I wept with huge heart-rending sobs. Maybe it was the smell of the pine. I love pine. It is one my favourite smells. It connects me to life and all that I hold dear.
I felt gratitude. Grateful I was safe, grateful I was heading home, and grateful for resolution around someone who supposedly cared for me. And thus ends this tale of travelling south.
I was so weary. My heart and soul were heavy. I just wanted to go home. This was it for me. Finally, after all was said and done, I remember driving past Mount Shasta in California. I wept with huge heart-rending sobs. Maybe it was the smell of the pine. I love pine. It is one my favourite smells. It connects me to life and all that I hold dear.
I felt gratitude. Grateful I was safe, grateful I was heading home, and grateful for resolution around someone who supposedly cared for me. And thus ends this tale of travelling south.