Two days ago I packed for my first “camping” trip, and even though I’ve been a little nervous I was also excited.
Camping is in quotations because I know a lot of you won’t consider staying in a cabin in the woods to be camping. I get that. But I am a city girl. I was born in one of the largest cities in the world and I’ve lived there my entire life. The most time I’ve spent amongst nature has been picnicking in Central Park.
So to me, spending 10 days in a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods, is basically camping. My boyfriend, Ryder, on the other hand, has been camping his entire life.
We met two years ago when he first moved to the city from the Pine Barrens in New Jersey. He grew up in the middle of the woods, so for him, city life was the big adjustment. On our first date he told me all about life as a “piney.” I was taken by his adventurous nature and self-assuredness. He first moved to the city for a construction job, and he misses the quiet of the woods.
So I’ve agreed to a camping trip so I can experience this part of his life that he loves and cherishes. I really love Ryder, and I want to be able to love this part of his lifestyle... but I have to confess that so far, things haven’t been comfortable.
I don’t mean the bugs or the creaky old mattress (which fine, not my favorite but I’m not some pansy who can’t handle it), there’s just some aspects of this whole camping thing that are seriously unnerving me.
To start, the cabin he rented is really, seriously remote. We’re somewhere in the Catskills and tbh I’m not even really sure exactly where. I let him navigate and drive, and didn’t pay much attention. We’re about three hours out from Brooklyn, that’s all I know. The cabin we’re staying in is studio style, with a bedroom nook, small kitchenette, a bathroom, and living space. It’s the only cabin for miles. He found it on Airbnb for a really good price. When he told me about it, he said we’d have lots of fun with all the extra privacy, and I felt excited by the twinkle in his eye. Yes, we did fuck outside last night, in front of the fire he built, while I laid on my back and stared at the night sky which looked different than I had ever seen it before (I had no idea how many stars you can see with the naked eye) - but what I hadn’t considered was how eerie the isolation would feel. What’s more, I barely get any signal at all. If this post goes through it’ll be because I’m standing on the left side of the front porch, holding my phone up to the sky, and being granted a miracle by the cell tower gods. Did I mention there’s no WiFi?
Ryder likes it that way. He loves the whole “tiny house,” “off the grid,” thing. He said we’d have more time to connect without WiFi but the truth is... he’s seemed off since we arrived.
The first night was fine, we got here, we unpacked, he built a fire and we roasted some marshmallows and ate dinner. We enjoyed the aforementioned hanky panky, and then we went to bed early so we could get up to hike the next day. But then something woke us up in the middle of the night.
I woke up first, and in my groggy sleepy state I shook Ryder awake. He listened with me to what sounded like a hard scraping on the outside of the wall, where the porch is. It sounded like someone was dragging a rake along the wood, over and over again.
My heart was pounding in my chest. We were supposed to be completely alone out here, why would someone be on the porch? I started wishing we had a gun or something to protect us. I can’t help but to imagine the worst and my mind was racing. I whispered my fears to Ryder who hushed me and got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and crept over to the window.
The second he peaked outside, the sound stopped. I was so scared I was holding my breath. Then, to my horror, Ryder opened the front door. Before I could even make a sound to protest he stepped outside and let the screen door slam behind him.
I laid in bed, clutching the blankets to my chest, staring at his silhouette illuminated by the porch light.
“There’s nothing out here,” he said to me.
“Come back inside!” I pleaded, feeling afraid to even have the door open, but Ryder insisted on taking a look around the property. He instructed me to lock the door behind him before he strutted off the porch. I did as I was told, despite being gripped with fear.
I thought he’d be back in a minute at most, but instead I spent the next 20 minutes petrified, straining to listen past the sound of the crickets for any sign of him. I was too afraid to look out the window or open the door. I know I sound like a coward, and maybe I am, but please understand I’ve never experienced anything like this before in my life.
Finally after the longest 20 minutes of my life I heard him come up the steps and rap on the door.
“It’s me,” he said, and although it sounded like him, there was a strange huskiness to his voice that I didn’t recognize. I opened the door and Ryder came inside, not bothering to glance at me as he head back to bed.
I locked the door and crawled in next to him.
“Did you see anything?”
“Obviously not,” he sounded annoyed.
“What do you think that was?”
“Probably just the wind or something.”
I laughed then, because the notion was so silly I thought he was certainly joking, but the angry look on his face at the sound of my laugh clearly told me he wasn’t.
“You worry too fucking much, you know that?”
He’s never spoken to me like this before, and his words honestly shocked me. I didn’t know what to say, I felt deeply wounded by his words. I understand that I might be overreacting because I don’t understand the wilderness, but I didn’t think I was being that paranoid? I definitely didn’t think my fearful reaction would invoke anger in him.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to apologize but he rolled over then. Unsure what else to say, I laid down and tried to sleep. He fell asleep rather quickly, I could tell from his deep, even breathing. I tossed and turned for about an hour, my mind reeling, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. Finally, just as I was drifting off, I heard another sound.
At first I thought I was dreaming, but as I snapped awake, I realized it was a distant sound, that seemed like it was coming from the woods behind our cabin. It took me a minute to recognize it as a voice, repeating the same thing over and over. I couldn’t make out what it was saying, except I think I heard the word, “stop.” What I did realize though, what sent shivers down my spine, was that the voice sounded eerily like Ryder’s.
It only happened about three times and then vanished. I was absolutely paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to wake up Ryder again because I was 1. afraid of making him angrier, and what if he didn’t believe me and thought I was just being paranoid again? and 2. I was honestly really fucking afraid at this point, and the thought of him going outside again filled me with anxious thoughts of harm coming to him.
I decided the best thing I could do was lay awake and on guard, listening for danger, and if I heard something concrete, then I could wake Ryder.
So I laid awake all night, playing WiFi-free games on my phone like solitaire, fighting my tired eyes. At last, when the stirrings of dawn began to light the edges of the curtains, I allowed myself to drift off to sleep.
I woke up about three hours later to an empty cabin. I could see that Ryder had fixed himself a quick breakfast of toast and jam, the remnants sat out on the kitchen table. I pulled on my coat and boots, not bothering to change out of my plaid pajamas, and stepped out onto the porch.
Ryder wasn’t anywhere in sight, but there was a small fire going and some freshly chopped wood. I figured he was out gathering more. I turned around to go back inside, and that’s when I saw it.
The side of the cabin - covered in long, deep, fresh scratch marks.
I don’t know if I screamed or cried out, but suddenly I felt hands clutch my shoulders. I turned around ready to fight but it was only Ryder, who had come up behind me.
“Fuck!”
“Did I scare you?” He asked, but although his voice sounded teasing, his face was stoney and serious.
“Why didn’t you wake me when you saw this?” I gestured to the scratch marks.
“What?”
When I tell you my stomach dropped in that moment, I am not kidding. I felt a chill go through me. I couldn’t believe he was acting like the scratches were no big deal! It’s evidence that someone or something was on our porch last night!
“Seriously? The scratches, Ryder!”
“I’m pretty sure those were there when we got here. Nothing new.”
I walked over to the wall and picked at the freshly chipping wood, and pointed to the shavings on the deck. I began to argue with him, but he first dismissed me, and then suddenly, that anger was back.
I watched a chillingly dark look come over his face - I’ve never seen him look at me or anyone that way before. His teeth clenched as he moved his jaw side to side, boring holes into me with his eyes. I shut up.
“I’m getting really sick of you trying to ruin this vacation for us. Isn’t anything I do good enough for you?”
“What?” I said, totally flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe he feels that way. “I’m not trying to ruin anything! I’m just scared!”
“Guess this is what I get for thinking I could maybe just for once enjoy something I like with you. But no, it’s always got to be about what the city girl likes and wants. You’re so fucking high maintenance, you know that?”
Once again I was deeply wounded by his words, they cut to the bone. I really can’t stress enough that he has never spoken to me like this before. He’s always been sensitive and sweet. If he had these feelings of resentment, I don’t know why he’s been hiding them from me until now.
“Please, I’m sorry. I swear it’s not like that. I’m just really freaked out. Could we at least maybe ride into town for the day?”
“Town is at least a 35 minute drive from here!” He bellowed, his face turning red with anger. I fell silent, my voice catching in my throat.
“I can’t take your bullshit anymore! I’m going for a fucking walk.” He hollered and grabbed the axe he’d been chopping wood with, before storming off down a path and into the woods.
That was two hours ago now, and I’ve been sitting on the porch waiting for him to come back. I can’t reach him by phone because, not only is there no service, but he left his in the cabin. What he did take, however, are the keys to his truck. I’m terrified that something could happen to him out there and I’d have no way to get help. I’m just stranded here, utterly trapped until he returns. I’m wracked with anxiety, I can’t eat and I feel sick.
I’m writing this in hopes that someone can make sense of all this for me. Am I overreacting to what’s happened here? Am I being a bad girlfriend and ruining the trip? What could have made those scratches on the side of the cabin? They’re about one inch in width and there’s four of them in a line, running down the side of the cabin. It reminds me of claw marks a little but deeper, and I don’t think an animal would repeatedly run their claws in the same spot like that? But maybe I’m wrong? I don’t know a ton about bears or anything like that...
Please help if you can. I feel really scared and I don’t know what to do. I’m going to sit here and just keep trying to get the page to load comments while I wait. I just hope Ryder comes back before nightfall, which is in about eight hours, and that I can make it up to him and make him feel better.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s still so angry...
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