Psycho Scary Man and My Camping Adventure

I’ve been camping by myself before. No big deal.

Okay, that’s a lie. I could barely sleep because I thought I heard animals outside my tent all night.

I thought I’d give it another try, even though. It’s not what I would prefer—camping by myself—but tell me honestly, who is available to go camping last minute in the middle of the week? I’ll tell you. . . . . . . . . . . . . no one. Plus it turns out that I had 6 days off and I didn’t even realize it. No, I’m not stupid. I just didn’t notice that I had days off at the end of May and the beginning of June that ran together.

I wanted to go somewhere hot and somewhere with water. So, I searched for camp grounds located near lakes. I decided on Folsom Lake Peninsula. I was very excited about getting away. I needed to refocus my thoughts and ask God to do some more work on my slowly healing heart. I recently listened to a sermon by Rob Bell on healing. I decided that this trip was going to be one of meditation and healing—a trip of peace and quiet where I could not ignore my thoughts and hurts any longer. I would have to face them and I would have to face God with them.

So, I printed my camping checklist. Yes, I have a camping checklist. Okay, now stop laughing. Stop. I bet you couldn’t get organized to go camping in 30 minutes and not forget to pack one single thing!! I rock.

I packed everything including my bike (I heard that Folsom has great bike trails), and my dog (of course) and headed off. It took awhile to get there because a big rig jackknifed in the middle of 80 east bound. But I tried to remind myself that this trip was a journey and maybe there were lessons to be learned even as I traveled. Plus, I was listening to more Rob Bell, and I didn’t mind being stuck in the car. Hell, I would’ve volunteered to be stranded in the car for days—as long as I could listen to him.

The campground was secluded and quiet. There were 100 campsites and probably only 5 sites were occupied. There wasn’t even a park ranger. I had reserved two nights over the phone, but it turns out that I could’ve stayed there without paying and no one would’ve known. There weren’t even empty envelopes there so you could do a self check-in. I picked a spot that was under the trees but also near the water. It was a beautiful site.



When I arrived, there were some people on their boat, not far from the shore. They had found this quiet cove near my campsite and stopped to listen to music and hang out. I stepped out of my car and I heard “Meet Virginia” playing on their stereo. “I guess that settles it,” I thought. “This is the spot.”

I had a lovely afternoon setting up camp, playing in the water with Tommy, and going for a walk. As the sun set, I pulled out my ipod and listened to the message on healing again (to download message #374--The healing power of Jesus, click HERE. Then click on that message from March 26. It will only be available for a couple more weeks). I wore a prayer shawl I brought and anointed my head with oil. I focused on grabbing the tassels of Jesus shawl and begging him to heal me. It was a very spiritual time and very symbolic. It was exactly what I needed to do. I sat there and worshiped God in the beauty of nature—there’s really nothing like it. I played guitar and relaxed with Tommy by my side.

Later that evening the insatiable mosquitoes came out to feast on my flesh. I built a magnificent campfire and cooked dinner over the flames. Food tastes so much better when you’re camping.

So, after a terrifying spider incident . . . (now that I think about it, ALL incidents with spiders are terrifying) . . . I closed myself into my tent safe and sound with Tommy. Tommy woke me up 4 or 5 times because he heard animals. I woke up and heard the animals too, scurrying away, but I never got scared like I did the first time I went camping alone. I was so proud of myself. Big girl’s goin campin!



Until 5am.

Yes, 5 o’clock in the God bless-ed morning.

I woke up . . . sort of woke up, that is . . . to the sound of a big diesel truck. And then voices. And then wood being thrown into a pile. And then the sound of a very large campfire burning and crackling. 5 . . . . A . . . . M.

I was able to fall back asleep and then woke up around 9am. I got out of my tent and immediately looked to my right (with an evil eye and a very bad attitude). There was no one there in the campsite next to mine, but there was a smoldering fire and some camp things on the picnic table, including a partially rolled up tent.

Now, I will continue to narrate this story with what I saw and heard interspersed with the corresponding thoughts that were in my head. I’ll put my thoughts in these little thingies: [ ]. How’s that for good grammar. Side note: thingies is in the spell check! Apparently, my first guess at how to spell it—thingys—was incorrect. I guess it is a word!

So, Mr. scary guy drove up at about 9:30am in his big green pick up truck, Johnny Cash blaring. It had a whole bunch of wood in the back. A white man in his mid 30’s emerged wearing jeans with baggie tighty whities showing over the waistband. No shirt. Beer belly. 1990’s style tribal band tattoo on his left bicep. He had brown hair and a messy brown beard—kind of long, but not homeless-hippie long. You know what I’m talking about . . . dare I use the term “white trash”? I hate to be derogatory, but I’m just trying to paint a good picture for you. That’s what writers are supposed to do.

So, I minded my own business, preparing my yogurt and granola breakfast. I couldn’t help but think that this was very weird.

[There are so many available camp sites. Why can’t I have my private quiet retreat privately and quietly?]

Then he broke the silence. He said, “Good morning.” Pretty harmless, I thought—and friendly in a not so pushy kind of a way. So I said, “Good morning” back.
Then a few minutes later he said (not a yell, not a holler, he said in a very regular pitch—because he was so friggin close to my campsite that he could have been whispering to himself and I would’ve heard it), “I’m Chris.”

For a split second I considered just smiling and nodding and giving him the impression that I really didn’t give a rip who he was, but before I knew it the words came out of my mouth. “Hi, I’m Gina.”

He mumbled something about how he used to have a girl named Gina but she was dead now. . . .
[WTF? I should’ve gone with the nod, I knew it. You killed her didn’t you, and now you’re going to kill me. You are a “Gina” serial killer, aren’t you?]

I just kept to myself. I sat down with my book and started to read, hoping to appear that I was busy and wanted to be left alone.

He walked over (which was only about 10 feet away) to my campsite and asked, “You here alone?”

[Oh my gosh, you ARE going to kill me]

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly.

[Crap, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s like answering the phone and saying your parents aren’t home when you’re little. Never say you’re alone. Never.]

Chris: “There aren’t too many women who would go camping by themselves.”

Gina: “Yeah, well. I’ve done it before and I really love camping. Are you by yourself?”

Chris: “Yeah, I just came up here for the day. You know, exorcising the demons, getting back to nature. I was here yesterday at this site. That’s why I came back here. I don’t want you to think that I’m so close because I’m going to mug you or something.”

[!?!?!?!?!?!?!? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Mug me? No, just the fact that you had to tell me that you weren’t here to mug me makes me feel so much more comfortable.]

[And wait a sec. Why do you have a tent partially unrolled, sitting on that picnic table if you’re only staying here for the day? Things aren’t adding up. I heard more voices at the campsite at 5am than just yours. But you say you’re alone?]

[Exorcising demons? Dude, you’re scary enough without the thought of demons]

Chris went back to his campsite to stoke the fire and pace. He went to his truck and picked up a pile of chains that were in his truck bed. He held them up and looked at them and then put them back. I went to my tent and got out my cell phone. By the grace of God, I had reception. I called the first person that came to mind. The person that anyone would call when they were scared and didn’t know what to do . . . their ex. And you thought I was going to say mother, didn’t you. He didn’t answer, but I left a message and told him to call me back.

As I came out of the tent, Chris was walking back over to my campsite, again. My dog lost it. He was tied to the picnic table but he nearly hung himself trying to get to the strange man. He viciously barked and lunged towards him.

[Good dog, Tommy, I love you.]



Chris was a little rattled by my protective dog and stayed just out of his reach.

Chris: “Where are you from?”

Gina: “Santa Rosa.”

[I should’ve lied. What am I doing? I suck at this]

Chris: “Do you like camping anywhere else?”

Gina: “Bodega Bay Dunes.”

Chris: “Yeah, I know where that is. My wife and I drove down the coast and camped there about 5 weeks ago.”

I looked down at his left hand. He had no wedding ring. He was wearing a ring but it was on his middle finger.

[I hope that’s not his wedding ring placed on a different finger, sick. Wife? You’re married? Where’s your wife?]

I got the strange feeling that this man could be set off very easily. He seemed like the type that would be a very scary drunk—almost as if he were emotionally unstable. Very scary feeling I had about it.

Chris: “Hey, do you mind if I use your cell phone?”

Gina: “You know, I’m not sure if I have reception. I don’t think so.”

As I walked to my tent, my cell phone rang. Loud.

[God, I am so bad at lying. I should’ve put my phone on silent.]

Gina: “Well, I guess that answers my question. Wow, I guess I do have reception.”
He walked back to his campsite.

David asked if everything was okay. It’s not everyday that I call him and tell him to call me back because I don’t know what to do.

I started to talk quietly when Chris returned to my campsite, joint in hand.



Chris: “You smoke weed?”

Gina to David: “Hold on”

Gina to Chris: “No. I’m talking on the phone.”

Chris: “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were on the phone. I hope that’s not your mom or something.”

David: “Who is that? Who’s that guy?”

I turned around and walked away—around to the other side of my car and told David the story. By this time I was shaking. As I told the whole story, I began to realize more and more that this was not a good situation.

David has always told me that I am naive when it comes to danger. He says I have too much faith that people are good.

So, when David heard that I was scared, I sensed the fear in his voice also. I told him that I was afraid to be rude. I was afraid that I would make him mad and he would turn violent or something. I told David that I would not spend the second night there, but I wasn’t sure what else I was going to do. At the end of our conversation, he said he’d call back every so often to see if I was okay.

We ended our conversation and Chris was back again.

[I’m really getting tired of you being in my space. It’s really pissing me off and freaking me out and can’t you tell that my dog hates you?]

I handed him my cell phone as he said, “I just want to call my wife and see if she wants to come up here for the weekend.”

I must have given him a strange look because he said, “You know, I left a note where I was going, but it’s always good to check in.”

[Whatever dude, you don’t make any sense. Your wife doesn’t know where you are and you’re asking if she wants to join you for the weekend which is two days away but you are only staying for the day? I gotta get outta here.]

Chris: “Can I have your cell phone number to give to her so she can call back here?”

[Now, I may be naive about danger, and I may have told him my name and that I lived in Santa Rosa, but there is an end to my stupidity.]

Gina: “I hardly have any batteries left on my phone right now. I’m going to turn it off to save what I have, before it dies.”

Chris: “Oh, okay. That’s okay.”

So he called, left his message for “Babe” and I took my phone back.

Chris was back again, like the plague.

Chris: “Is that your bike?”

Gina: “It’s my sister’s.”

Chris: “I was going to bring my bike, but I didn’t.”

[Man, this is the most intelligent conversation I’ve ever had. Please go away. Please.]

I sat down again with my book, hoping once again that he would get the clue.

He walked over to the bike and said, “Do you mind if I take a look at the lock? . . . . . I’ve been wanting to get a new one for my bike.”

He didn’t even give me the chance to answer. He was already at the bike looking at the lock. “Oh, just a combination lock, huh?”

[I’ve got to put that bike in the car, quick like]



He wandered back over to his campsite and not long after, he hopped in his truck and drove down the road. He stopped along the way, asking a couple of people for something. I watched closely to see if he was going to leave. He went further down the road and I could see his truck had stopped again. I quickly went to my sister’s bike and unlocked it. I put it in my car very quickly, hoping that if he were coming right back, he wouldn’t notice. Then his truck disappeared out of sight.

[What do I do? How long will he be gone? I know I don’t want to spend the night again, but am I going to stay the afternoon?

I’ll just put the wood back in my car. I won’t be staying late enough for another campfire anyway. Maybe I’ll tell him that my mom called and there had been a family emergency that I had to come home for.

Well, maybe I’ll put the ice chest and food box back in the car as well. Then I can leave quickly when I need to.

Hmm. He’s still not back. I wish I knew if he were going to be gone for a while. I’m afraid that if he comes back and sees me packing up camp, he’ll get even weirder. I’m scared enough. I looked around. The only thing left to pack up was the tent.

Well, I’ll empty the tent out and just leave the tent up for now.

Hmm. He’s still not back. Maybe I should take the tent down. God, should I take the tent down. I’m so scared. What if he comes back?]

Ready, set, go. I was shaking so hard I could barely take the tent down. My heart was pounding as I ran around the tent pulling it down. Those stupid pole things don’t come out very well when you’re trying to do it fast! I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up.

Hurry, hurry, Gina. God, please help me. Don’t let him come back until I’m gone. I picked up the tent and without folding it threw it in the car. I grabbed Tommy and put him in. Everything was in the car except the cute little table cloth I had brought for the table. I looked for a second and then jumped in the car.

[I don’t have enough time to get the table cloth. What if he’s on his way back right now?]

I backed out of the spot and peeled out.

[My heart has never pounded this hard before, I know it.]

I’ve never been able to handle suspense very well. I drive everyone crazy when I’m watching a suspenseful movie. As I pulled away, immediately I got a big smile on my face and yelled a big Kristie “woo-hoo!”

Then I glanced in my rear view mirror.

[You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s following me]

He must have driven up to the campsite right after I left and saw that I was gone. Good thing I left before grabbing the table cloth. Now he was catching up to me. I sped up down the rest of the curvy road towards the campground entrance. Still no ranger to be found.

[Oh, God. Please stop him]

As I sped up and flew past the ranger booth, I looked back and he was gone. He was not following me anymore.

[Thank you God]



Once I had reception again, I called David back and told him that I was safe.

I went directly to Starbucks. Grande iced half decaf vanilla Americano light room for cream. Ahhhhh. Safe.

Once again I realize: adventures are no fun by yourself. Adventures with a good story are even more of a bummer. I looked around wanting to tell someone of my getaway story, but no . . . no one was there.

I went to the gas station looked at a map and memorized where I wanted to go. I ended up at a park with a beach on the lake. The other side of the lake. I laid out in the sun, read my book [finally] and hung out with my dog.

The rest of the day I took it easy. Then I headed back home just ahead of the traffic.
Once I got home I went straight to my computer and looked at pictures of fugitives wanted in California and America’s most wanted. I never found his picture.

I also looked more closely at the number he dialed to call his “wife”. The area code was from the Chico/Redding area. Odd that he was that far away from home “for the day” and that he had been there the day before also.

So, if you’re wondering . . . no. I’m not going to go camping by myself anymore.

And I’m considering taking a self-defense class. Anyone know of a good one?

And where do you buy those keychain mace things?