Encounters with the Wild

Well, the end of our trip has taken a slight turn. We set up our tent and hammock in a campground outside of Trinidad, CA. Spending the evening reading among the redwoods was just what we had planned until we heard a screeching sound coming from the campsite adjacent to ours. The best description I can give is of a cat being run over or chased by a dog. As soon as I heard the eery noise, I recalled that while checking in, the manager of the campground had been conversing with a state trooper about a rabid fox that was roaming the surrounding area. This may sound negligent but it did not really register as a concern. 

Sure enough, our tent neighbors came bounding out of their tent waving a machete and claiming that a fox had been trying to scramble through the ventilation flap into their tent.  We jumped into our car to find the manager and as we drove past the bathroom there were three screaming girls running from the showers with a limping fox following in hot pursuit. 

The fox somehow made its escape but the manager assured all of us that he was handling the situation and we were not to worry. I will admit that it took quite some time for Adam to calm me down and convince me that we would be safe in our tent (time was 9:45 pm). 

From this point on, all I remember is that at about 10:15 there was a slight thump outside followed by the same scrambling and squealing that we had heard earlier, except that this time the creature was inside of OUR rain flap. I would like to say that I jumped into action with my adrenaline pumping to battle the rabid animal, but for some reason my mind and body thought it more appropriate to lay prostrate yelling profanities while Adam administered the real beating. 

The twist in the story actually comes in here. Within seconds of the creature retreating from our tent, we realized that instead of a fox, we had been attacked (and sprayed) by a rabid skunk!! 

Needless to say, we packed our bags and spent the next 24 hours trying to find a way to deodorize ourselves and our gear. 

With only three nights remaining in our trip, we have decided to bag our reeking gear and spend the next few evenings in quaint hotels on the coast of Oregon. Why punish ourselves with the painful task of deodorization when we can always take care of it some other day?