The ground was soft. That was the first thing I noticed when we arrived. The scout leader said it was okay, not a problem for us. He said it had always been that way, in all those years that the Redground campsite existed.
I was 11 back then and wore my red scarf with pride. We had hiked for nearly a whole day and the younger ones, I among them, would not not have been able to go on any longer.
There would be two more days of hiking until Hideout Canyon. We all knew that and I think I was not the only one that felt regret at having come along.
Even with my aching legs there was one thing I was still more scared of – the darkening sky. I always hated thunder and lightning, then as now, gave me weird visions not far different from nightmares. It was as if the flash of the lightning turned my brain into survival mode, it made my mind a mental cinema screen to play horror movies in.
It was then the thunder that usually woke me from the suffocating fear, only to shock me with a violent, painful wave of panic. Continue reading