Widow Makers

After a grueling 12 mile hike through the Ozark mountains, I found myself surrounded by towering trees and dark grey clouds. I had no idea what was in store for me but I knew it would be exciting, to say the least.

I quickly found a place to set up my tarp and hammock. I hadn't packed for cold weather but I could already feel the chill blow through the trees, their branches crackling, popping, and rustling with every gust of the air. I had been worried earlier in the day I wouldn't have a freshwater source as I knew I was headed to the top of the mountain but I found fresh water quite quickly while setting my camp up. Of course, it came in the form of a torrential downpour but beggars can't be choosers so we’ve been told.

I hastily lined my tarp with empty water bottles, cookware, and my dinner cup in an effort to catch as much water as possible. As soon as my cookware filled I retrieved my filter and laughed as I drank my fill of the icy liquid.

I talk to myself while on long trips backpacking and this night I talked to myself more so. The fear of the storm was starting to take over, minute by minute. Soon I heard the call of the rangers from below, "SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. TORNADO WARNING!" Their call out to those of us on the trail rang eerily through the woods, soon after a faint scream of a tornado siren was found to be drifting through the trees. Being hard of hearing the sound of the siren was coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

I grabbed the side of my tarp and pulled it in so I could see the sky upwards but there was no sky to view, just daggered raindrops that filled my vision and the blackness above me. A primal fear started to course through my body... should I start running? Should I grab my boots and headlamp and hope I can make it somewhere safe? Was there a cave I passed by earlier or was that just an overhang from the rocks? Maybe I’m just better off here. Stay put is what you are told so that’s what I did. I let go of the tarp and the thin nylon snapped back into its rigged formation.

“Maybe I should text my goodbyes,” I thought for a moment to myself.

“Hey, the storm is getting intense. Tell the kids I love them and I love you too” I texted my husband no doubt warm, dry, and a belly full while he plays videogames and listens to our rowdy household as they wind down and back up again. The second wind of a gaggle of children can be quite amazing to witness.

“Hey bitch, I love you. Remember my ghost word is Pineapple Launcher” and then I had a good chuckle thinking about how my best friend would react to such a non-sensical and ridiculous text in the morning.

My husband had responded surprisingly fast, “okay see you tomorrow”. Part of me was disappointed he never seemed more concerned for me. My heart ached for him to respond with a heartfelt “wish you were home” or “please be careful” but I suppose his honest response of knowing I could take care of myself should have filled me with something even more meaningful, respect.

I set my phone to battery saver mode and tucked myself into my hammock. There is nothing quite like being in the mountains during a tornado warning. I stayed away for the next hour and a half listening to the wind whip through my camp. I started up at my tarp, not actually seeing it but knowing it was there and realizing it was the only thing that stood between the widow makers and my very possible death.

Widowmakers if you aren’t familiar with the term is something that is powerful enough to kill a man, turns out on the trail they can kill women too. I mean at least I think they can. I really haven’t figured it out just yet as I’m pretty sure I’m in a coma right now.

Oh well, I get to hear lots of heartfelt things now, I just wish I could respond to them.