Gone Campin'

Some of those old fears have settled in. That afraid of the dark fear. That unidentifiable noises fear. That unseen things crawling on my body fear. That red eyes glowing at the window fear (at least that one I can chalk up to the radio towers across from my house growing up). That I can't do this fear.

I am in a tent. I am in a sleeping bag that smells like someone else. I am in Agua Blanca, near Lake Piru, out of radio contact. Outside it is frog-loud and I can hear rustlings around me. Beneath the frog chorus is the sound of the river that cuts up through this canyon. Geoff's tent is nearby. I have a can of bear spray next to my head. Tomorrow I have to hike in darkness up to the OP, which is perched precariously in a bush atop a nearly sheer rock face, up which I will have to scramble. I did it once today and it nearly killed me.

Of all the things that scare me though--bears and rattlesnake bites and mountain lions and falling down and falling in rivers and twisted ankles and Lyme disease--I think I am most afraid of being incompetent. Of doing this all wrong. I am supposed to be at the OP for sunrise. What if my alarm doesn't go off? What if I take too long? What if I don't take the right notes? What if I do it all wrong?

Oh, go to bed Angela.