Today, Dubu left early to go on the boat and do a tour. I decided to have a day to myself. I felt really called to hike the Bartlett Lake Trail. Georgina picked me up in the afternoon, we drove to the local thrift store. It was nice to find actual thrift prices between $.25-$2. Then, she made a quick pitstop to the library. This one was nice because it was required to remove your shoes and walk barefoot on the carpet.
Afterwards, she started driving up the road that led to the trailhead but it looked too beautiful to pass up so I asked to be let out so I could walk it. I was really craving to be alone. Shortly into my walk a vehicle stopped to ask me if I was hiking the lake trail. I said yes and he asked if I had any bear mace to which I said no. I truly did not feel worried about it. They wished me luck and continued on.
I studied the map—turned out it was going to be around 7 miles versus the 3-4 that I thought it was. Actually even more because I decided to road walk. I thought about turning around because this was going to be the longest trek I would attempt since the apparent injury. I also felt tempted to lay in bed all day because I knew I would be back to working a full-time job tomorrow. Despite the hesitancy, my desire to hike the trail was much higher than my desire to be lazy, so I moved forward.
It started out wide and open, then slowly turned into a single track. There was moss and the scent of tree bark. It felt good to step it up a notch and walk over vines, mud, and even some down trees to get my knee a bit more activated. It put my mind at ease to feel and hear the sound of dried moss and twigs crunching beneath my feet. Then, a thought came up.
I love who I am when I’m alone.
I was unsure as to why I couldn’t be in the same essence when I had eyes of ‘others’ on me. When I was alone, there was never any of this weird sexual/seductive energy I put out. In fact, quite the opposite. In solitude, I was very childlike and innocent, exploratory, and most of all, silent. I didn’t feel much inspiration to use my vocal cords, but I often found myself laughing out loud for no particular reason. It seems when people were around, I would get distracted quite easily. I wasn’t the same as I was when I was alone.
The trail got pretty challenging during the second half. I had a few freak attacks when I found (what I considered) some big spiders on me after walking through their webs. It has been a while since I recall walking through those silvery threads. I sort of missed them in a weird way, just the same way I missed fearing for my life in the woods. I had several moments where I wished I could just set up camp and be with myself, but for now, I was a day hiker.
I ended up accidentally locking my knee a bit too hard at one point, getting a little bit ahead of myself. Then, I tripped and bent my trekking pole to a 45° angle. A few seconds after that, I slipped on a wet log and fell into a pile of mud. As I was falling, I kicked the mud into the air. When I gasped, a chunk landed directly into my mouth. The views were superb, though. There were meadow marshes and lily pads dispersed with yellow flowers, a couple days short of blossoming. I sort of expected the trail to be full of people, but I didn’t run into a single soul. I was beyond grateful for that.
It was perfectly overcast, barely starting to drizzle when I came to the end of my walk. I really wanted to take another side trail to the river, however rain was coming so I figured I’d save it for a different day to do with some other thru-hikers.
Upon making it to the road, it started raining heavily. I did not mind. It felt so good to reminisce of my days on trail. I soaked it in then hitched a ride in a car that had a close resemblance to Dubu’s. The guy was from North Carolina. He was working a seasonal job for the water taxis. He lived just up the road from Dubu so he dropped me off right at his doorstep. I had an hour to myself before he came back, so I basked in silence and enjoyed the sound of my pen gliding over the paper as I wrote.
When he came back, we decided to watch the movie Up. I sat at the table for about 30 minutes trying to finish up writing. He invited me over to the couch, but when I looked over he had his right leg extended on it. It didn’t feel inviting for me, nor comfortable, however after some time in the hard chair, I grew uncomfortable and asked if I could please join him on the couch. He said “of course” but ceased to move his leg.
I sat down on the edge of the couch, sort of hunched over. I was waiting for him to move his leg. He never did. Instead, he says, “Freyja.” I look over and see a small pillow placed on his crotch, barely covering it. He motions with his hands for me to place my head right there. I gave him a look that undeniably told him I felt uncomfortable.
“Just as friends,” he said.
I released a sigh, then found myself laying down. Exactly in that same second, I completely disassociated. It reminded me of the time I got molested by that weed trimmer guy, laying my head down in the same fashion and him telling me he just wanted to massage my scalp “as a friend” to help release me of any stress.
I was extremely mad at myself that I still seemed to go completely silent in scenarios like this. Why couldn’t I just open my mouth and speak out a boundary? Instead, I was trying to convince myself it was normal and that maybe some friends do this with one another. I mean, Paramour just told me Mulch often comes over to cuddle platonically so maybe they do stuff like this, too.
I laid there completely stiff and quiet, trying to fall asleep so as to avoid speaking to him. I was having rushing thoughts about how unsafe I felt, trying to recall any friends I have done this with. Come to think of it, even friends I’ve had for years, my closest and closest of friends, I would have never even thought of doing that, nor would they. There has always been an unspoken boundary.
I even asked myself, Would I do this with my father?
The answer was no. Absolutely not. Dubu then massaged my shoulders and scalp, thanking me for the experience, feeling grateful that I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. I didn’t. Looks like we are going to have to talk because I can’t put up with this in Africa.
