It is night one of my third total backpacking trip. We have just packed up and cleaned our stove, cook pots, and sporks after a meal of chicken and rice with a side of cherries. The trash bags are hung in a tree to avoid any mice, raccoons, or other critters from snagging and destroying it. With the fire naturally dying, we pour water on the remaining coals to ensure that it goes out. Teeth are brushed, pajamas are on, and the tent begins calling our names. As the sun starts to set behind the tall trees, we know there are just moments until a darkness unlike any other sweeps through the state forest.
In the true, red tinted lighting of dusk, we unzip the sides of the tent, sit down, and remove our shoes before crawling in. The trees that surround us make creaking noises that sound like a rickety, old door opening slowly. It is a natural phenomenon that I have never heard before. Owls “who” in the distance while night birds seem to respond. We discuss the events that happened earlier that day and map out our hike for the next morning. With more friends coming to join us the next night, we scour the map for a larger camping site. Just as I sat up to reach for my glasses case and prepare for bed, I am stopped cold by a large crack, intense whistling, and leaves striking against one another. I look out the mesh side of the tent in perfect timing to see a massive, towering tree trunk tumble to the ground. My jaw drops to the floor when the bark smacks on the ground, making a thud that echoes through the forest. Falling no further than forty yards from us, I once again become humbled to the intense realization of the raw power of nature.
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