For the last 7 years or so, I have packed up my car in late August and headed south to Crestone, CO for a painting and nature retreat. I roll into the Crestone Campground late in the evening, looking for a vacant campground spot to claim for the next 4 or 5 nights.

There are only 12 camping spots, so I usually have a more difficult time finding anything on the first night. Something will open up eventually, and I can move in to a private spot close to the river with a view of the mountains and the clear starry night sky by the 2nd or 3rd night.

Camping in mid-late August is amazing. It coincides with the annual Perseid meteor showers – a four night light show peaking around the 12th of August. I can stare for hours just to get a glimpse of the streaks of light crossing the night sky.

I have enjoyed the experience of camping, but there is always a little something that keeps me ever present and alert. As a single woman camping, I am all too aware of the real and often perceived dangers of camping. Imagine the noises I can hear when I am all by myself in my tent! Some years I feel more bold than others, and I always use the car with locked doors if I feel anything less than 100% safe.

This year, the ranger met me at the campsite on my last day and asked if I was ok. Yes and why, I responded. “Well, we have had a bear making nightly visits through the campground, but don’t worry, he hasn’t disturbed a site in a week. He is a young male cub who got a scare after getting into a campers cooler and was scared off by the campers chihauha dog.”

“Oh,” I said, “That is reassuring-thanks!” I had seen fresh bear scat a day earlier that I reckoned was just hours old, so you better believe that I wasn’t about to wander far after zipping open the tent to go pee in the middle of the night! I wasn’t surprised to hear about the bear.

Bears are a common sight in Crestone, in town and at the campground, so I go there with my eyes and ears open. I don’t have food in the car or at the picnic table. I walk briskly on the trail from the campground up a little ways making noise and carrying a stick (as if that will help). I do wish to see one–just on my terms.

One year, I brought down our truck camper (and a mouse). I felt something at the top of my head. No, I thought to myself — no. way. I tried to talk myself out of it, but my body told me differently. I was immediately and fully awake looking for my flashlight. I didn’t see anything, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I strain to hear — and then I hear the sounds of scampering somewhere in the camper. Oh Gosh! I am now fully awake and l open the camper door. Uggh. It will be a long night for sure. I finally flush the mouse out into the cold night air and return to my bunk, disgusted.

But, the other concern I have had over the years are the other campers/hikers. There are people who live in the mountains that I have seen come through the campground. I recognize one of them now, but the first time I saw him, I was taken by surprise. Some of the sites are far apart. I want the space and I don’t. The river is loud — it could be hard for anyone to hear you if you have the bear visit, and going to bed with dogs barking or camper lights on or waking up to a neighbors cigarette smoke is not ideal either.

Although, I have had no reason to be concerned, I have had many interesting interactions with neighbors. One year I heard sirens and peeked out of my tent to see sheriff cars. They stopped me and asked if I have seen a guy with a gun wanted for domestic violence. That was a bit unnerving, but…. I was able to get back to sleep after a while. 

 I have also had the opportunity to meet some amazing people. One year, I arrived late to find the park full and two men, invited me to share their spot. That was very thoughtful and yet I found myself weighing the decision to stay or go. They had a couple of flasks and only carried backpacks. They had been drinking and were excited to spend the next day fishing for dinner. I was initially uncomfortable. When I got back to the campsite the next day, I was actually saddened to see that they had moved on. I thought back to how sweet they were.

 A few years later, I had 2 other women sharing my spot. At first, I was annoyed, but after realizing how much fun we could have around the campfire, I considered myself to be blessed. I still remain in touch with one of them and think fondly of our time together.

This year, I joined two men at their campfire under a clear night sky. I had seen them earlier and felt comfortable. They welcomed me to join them later that evening. They had gone out to collect firewood earlier in the day. I don’t make my own campfires, but am very happy to enjoy someone else’s. I retire too early to get the full benefit of having my own. There is something special about the warmth and crackling of a fire pit to open hearts and stories. It was magical and yet as the night went on, I was aware of my needs too. Too bad I felt the pull to return to my space while the night was young. It was my last night and for many reasons, it made sense for me to leave. There was no immediate concern at all — I know I could have gone much later. But, “better safe than sorry” and the way back to my site was dark and quiet — with plenty of room for my imagination and unfounded fears to appear.

Camping for me is about communing with nature and with others that share that love of the outdoors. It has a way of influencing the flow in my that I feel when I paint. I never know what I will find, but I stay open to the joys of getting out in nature and this campground is one of the finest. It’s never the most restful and comfortable sleep I have, but the stillness that I experience is priceless. It is healing and a way to step away from all the expectations and pressures of the daily routines of my home and work worlds while renewing and recharging. And, I always return with a story to tell.