Stranger on the Trail
I am a huge fan of true crime podcasts and fictional crime/thriller novels. Ever since I began reading murder mysteries and especially since I started listening to Crime Junkie, a certain hyperawareness swirled around me at all times. Paranoia and an all-around untrustworthiness of those around me became the norm. This is both a positive and negative attribute. On one hand, it can make me unsettled and anxious more than I need to be, and not everyone I pass on the trails is a serial killer who plans to kill me and dispose of my body in the middle of the woods; on the other hand, itās made me more aware of my surroundings and caused me to be more protective of my life and be on guard at all times to the risks that may be looming beyond the path.
My first encounter with a stranger that left me unsettled was in the Garden of the Gods Wilderness in southern Illinois. This wasnāt the first time that Iāve felt unsettled on a trail, but it was the first time that I felt unsafe due to a type of paranoia that was most certainly brought on by the podcast I had just listened to about a killer attacking hikers in the woods. It was the middle of January. An icy chill lingered in the air; a steady rain sprinkled the trails. There were no cars in the parking area, so we knew weād be the only ones on the trail. This proved to be true until we passed a mom and her two kids on the path about a half hour into our hike. They probably arrived shortly after us, and they didnāt seem threatening. No big deal. Fast forward to the near end of the trail and Erica spots a guy looming in the distance. Sure enough, he passes us moments later, simply saying, āLovely weather, isnāt it?ā as he strolled by.
This man was in his early forties, wearing a light jacket and carrying no backpack or gear of any kind. I spotted a cell phone in his hand and watched as he snapped a couple photos of the landscape before moving on. An unease settled in my stomach, and my instinct was to keep looking behind me to make sure he wasnāt going to stab us. As we squeezed through two massive boulders that ran across the trail, I pondered why I had two different reactions to the two people we had passed. The middle-aged mom with her two teenaged children didnāt seem threatening whatsoever; therefore, I never turned around to watch my back, and nothing in my gut told me to feel uneasy. However, now that this male middle-aged man, walking solo, crossed paths with us, my senses were hyperaware, and I immediately felt unsettled and unsafe. I considered the reason for this response and chalked it up to stereotypes. Of all of the crime podcasts I had listened to and all the murder mysteries I had read, the serial killer or murderer hadnāt matched the profile of a middle-aged woman flanked by two children. Serial killers tended to be middle-aged or older men who hunted alone. Therefore, when I spotted that man with no gear and no companion, fear trickled down my spine instinctively.
Once we reached the safe confines of the car, I almost laughed at my over-exaggerated reaction. Though it was just impulse, I felt a little ridiculous for the way I had turned my head to glance behind me over and over again. I wondered if he ever saw me do this and if so, what was his reaction? Brushing off the brief hiccup in our adventure, we embarked onto the next trail, Indian Point. Here, we encountered no one and we were able to soak up the sweet winter rain, cozy pine forests, and foggy Illinois landscapes all by ourselves.
Two hours later, the dread came creeping back into my gut, sending a shiver down my spine once again.
After Indian Point, we rested in the car for a little while, heat on full blast while we warmed up our bodies and dried off our gloves over the vents. Once we were dry and ready for the next trail, we drove ten miles down the road, out of Garden of the Gods Wilderness and into another section of Shawnee National Forest, where Rim Rock Recreational Area resided. This trail had been a last-minute decision that Erica spontaneously made. We decided to embark on this one last adventure before the sun set for the evening. The trailhead lie at an opening of tall pines and led us up a staircase that revealed an incredibly unique landscape. We zigzagged through rock scrambles, squeezed through ledges, trudged through ten inches of standing water, carefully stepped down rocky steps with water rushing down like them like a river current. We passed a waterfall surrounded by an oasis of ledges, boulders, wildflowers, and even a cave! Erica excitedly flew her drone down by the cave while I snapped photos of the river. We couldnāt have been more at peace in that moment. It wasnāt until we continued past the cave and around the corner that my heart stopped.
Around the corner was none other than the guy that we had crossed paths with at Garden of the Gods. Ten miles down the road and nearly three hours later, we had crossed paths yet again. Stunned, speechless, I couldnāt force my mouth to form a response when he said, āHello again!ā and once again snapped photos with his phone as he walked away in the opposite direction.
Paralyzed with fear, face flushing, I turned to Erica and barely uttered the words, āWas that…?ā When she nodded slowly and silently, I knew that my fears and suspicions were confirmed.
My mind raced at a rapid rate, faster than I could catch my own thoughts. Our car was the only car parked at the trailhead. I knew what his car looked like, and it hadnāt been there; there hadnāt been any cars. What were the odds that weād run into him twice in the same day, at two different trails, nearly three hours and ten miles apart from each other? Had he really followed us or was it just a severely unfortunate coincidence?
If I had been afraid before, I was petrified now. I conjured up outlandish, horror-inducing images and possibilities in my head of why he could possibly be here at the same time and place as us nearly three hours later and ten miles down the road in a remote, isolated location at sunset. Heart pounding, I focused on breathing through my nose and gazing at the beautiful landscape that surrounded me. Waterfalls flowed off of rocky cliffs in every direction; the sound soothed my soul. I began breathing easier, but not forgetting about the man who could be lurking behind us. I glanced behind me more times than I wish to admit, but paranoia was eating at me. Erica kept assuring me that everything was okay, and though she admitted that this was a weird circumstance, it was a mere coincidence. I needed to focus on my surroundings, and thatās what I did. We ended up getting lost on the trail and found ourselves two miles down the road in the opposite direction. Thankfully, I had my Tile in our car, and we used that as our GPS to lead us back in the right direction. This proved as a great distraction to the previous circumstances though it never left the back of my mind.
Looking back on this day, I realize that though I mayāve overreacted and though this man might really have just been a single guy out enjoying nature, I donāt regret putting my safety first. Safety and the protection of ourselves out in the middle of the woods is crucial. Itās okay to be untrusting and leery of strangers. Itās okay that you form stereotypes of people that could possibly be a threat. Itās better to be cautious of danger and assume everyone is going to hurt you than to let your guard down and end up injured, or worse. This isnāt to say that you canāt strike up conversation with hikers or passerbyās; in fact, we do this quite frequently, especially when we have our pups with us. We tend to trust people who own dogs over strange men that wander the trails alone; itās something that I canāt really explain or rationalize, but when in doubt, Iām going to trust my first instinct because it could be the thing that keeps me alive.
Be weird, be rude, stay alive – Ashley Flowers, Crime Junkie
Stay safe & happy hiking!
Wonder. Wander. Repeat. 