Growling Prowler

That was freaky.

I’m working on an essay in the dinette seat of our camper, when I hear a familiar sound.  This is the sound that I hear when the rear hatch of our homemade truck bed cover unsuspectingly crashes down on my head while I’m rooting around in the cooler.  It hurts; but this time it hasn’t gone “whomp!” on me or my wife who’s lying on the bed reading.  This strikes me as odd, because if we haven’t caused the whomp, and there’s no one else in the campground, who has?

I grab my headlamp and mention to Shari that I thought I heard something outside.  My first thought is that an animal, most likely a raccoon, has tried to get into our cooler – it’s happened before.  I step outside and see that something is propping up the rear cover a few more inches than normal.  “That’s weird,” I think, as I raise the cover and find our hiking shoes sitting on top of the cooler, rather than their usual spot.  I look around as if someone is playing a joke on me.

“Shari, come and see this… did you move the shoes?” I ask, knowing she hasn’t.  We stand around looking at the cover, the cooler, even the bin next to it.  Nothing seems to be missing.  I go through a variety of irrational explanations but can only conclude that someone’s been looking around at our stuff.  I also get the weird feeling that the someone is still close by.  Shari goes back inside to get her headlamp and the keys to lock things up. 

As I walk around the truck, I see what looks like a duffel bag under the chassis by the passenger door; and then it moves.  I shout, “Are you under the truck, dude?” “Get outta there, man!”  “Get outta here!”  He rolls out and gets up, as I move to the other side wanting to keep the truck in between us.  I get a split second look at him dressed in all camo, wearing a ski mask which reveals a thin band of skin and eyes.  As soon as he’s up, he’s running away, and this is the weird part, he’s growling…loudly…like a wild animal trapped in a cage.  If his intention in doing this is to freak me out further than I already am by finding a guy dressed in all camo hiding under my truck in a completely empty campground in the pitch dark, it does.  Well played sir, cuz I am officially freaked out! 

Shari hears me shouting and adds a well-timed, “Get the FUCK out of here…NOW!” to his back disappearing into the distance toward the road.  She grabs the fire extinguisher in the doorway and pulls the pin.  Handing me the phone, and the extinguisher she goes back into the camper for the bear spray and her Fox 40 whistle which she clips to her bra strap – see if camo guy catches us unaware.  We have no cell service, but we can get a 9-1-1 call out and explain to dispatch that we haven’t had anything stolen, we’ve just been officially freaked out by someone rummaging through our stuff.  Is that a crime?  I’m not sure, but we are getting the hell out of here. 

We’ve packed up quickly before, but never while holding a canister of bear spray and looking over our shoulders every two seconds.  And considering this handicap, we still make it out under 10 minutes, which included turning the truck around and dropping the camper on the hitch.  Possibly a new record.

It’s a damn shame too, because this campground is awesome.  Perfectly situated near town, and other forest areas where we could get up to all kinds of outdoor activities, including just hanging around this beautiful spot between towering canyon walls.  But we both know that if we don’t change our location, change our situation, we are going to spend all night with the butcher knife, bear spray, and anything else that might hurt us clutched to our breast and never fall asleep. 

We drive into the quiet village and hover near the library to get enough wifi to look up the non-emergency sheriff’s department number.  We want to let the officer know that we moved locations, but still want to talk to someone.  By the time he reaches us, he has already checked out the whole campground, including bathrooms, and found no one.   Given the location of the campground, camo guy could have been up in the hills hiding among shrubs inside 2 minutes flat.  The Deputy gives us his personal cell number and encourages us to stay anywhere in town for the night – assuring us that he would be on patrol in the local area all night.  Despite the scare, the officer’s calm demeanor is reassuring. 

This is only the second time in 6+ years on the road that we’ve had to call the police.  The first involved a stolen bike from a Walmart parking lot, which we got back the next day.  The most disturbing thing we keep returning to is the man’s appearance; he was clearly prepared to do something criminal, and by his exit strategy, he had a plan.  I keep thinking how much it hurts when that lid comes slamming down on my head, and I think, “Yeah, I hope that hurt!”  Maybe that was why he was growling?