FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

Being afraid of the dark is a phase every child seems to go through. As adults, it’s a fear many claim to outgrow. But is being afraid of the dark a fear anyone truly outgrows? Is it the dark we are afraid of, or is it the unknown?

Now that the sun has set, it’s pitch black in this mountain ravine, but the full moon highlights the skyline. “The skyline is the road,” I keep telling myself. That is a lie, but at skyline the terrain will become alpine grassland, meaning easier hiking. Right now, each step is carefully placed. We are currently hiking over a boulder slide. It’s just boulders on top of boulders with deep crevices.

The further up we get, the more exhausted I become. I’m having to dig deep inside to keep going. My leg muscles are twitching, making it hard to climb with over half my body weight on my back. I’m surrounded by darkness. Only what is illuminated by my headlamp is visible.

With about 200 yards to go, I have to take another break. Up ahead, the silhouette of my father is seen leaning against a boulder. I sit on a boulder, closing my eyes and catching my breath. I just want to go to sleep. I’m exhausted and my body hurts. Again I tell myself, “The skyline is the road. . . the skyline is the road.” Only the skyline doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.

Suddenly, the little hairs on the back of my neck start to tingle and I get a weird feeling. A little voice in my head says I need to be vigilant. My breathing and heartbeat start to quicken. I look around. About 25 yards below me, two eyes stare back.

I blink hard a couple of times, rub my eyes and look back down where I saw the eyes; hoping I’m imagining them. No, there are two eyes looking right at me. The eyes climb over a rock and stare back.

“Dad,” I say while not breaking eye contact with whatever is staring back at me. The eyes move over another rock. This time I am trying to take in how the eyes are moving in the darkness, hoping I can figure out what animal they belong to. But all I can make out are two eyes that are reflecting in my headlamp. It is so dark I cannot distinguish a body from the boulders.

“Dad,” I say louder. No reply. Once again the eyes move over another rock and stare right back. This time I find myself sniffing the air to see if I can smell anything. I can’t.

“Dad,” I yell even louder. Still no reply. I quickly glance in his direction and see him walking away! He hadn’t heard me yell for him! Meanwhile, the eyes are making their way ever so gracefully over the rocks towards me.

I jump off the rock screaming “Dad something is stalking us!”

Dad’s flashlight beam whips around.

“What?” He yells back.

“There is something down there following us!” I yell back. With all this commotion, the eyes go behind a rock. After a couple of minutes of not seeing the eyes, I go over to him, his light still shining in the direction of the eyes.

“What do you think it was?” my Dad asks. We ponder the question, then continue on our way. We don’t see the eyes again. We will never know what creature they belonged to.

Seeing those eyes staring at me was terrifying. Terrifying because the creature was unknown. It was the unknown I was afraid of. Not the dark. Not the animal itself. But the NOT knowing what the animal was. The unknown was terrifying.

My father’s response to my siblings and I when we said we were afraid of the dark was, “It’s not the dark you are afraid of. You can’t be afraid of the dark. The dark is just the absence of light. It’s the unknown you are afraid of and life is full of unknowns.”

Hunting has helped me be less fearful of unknowns in life. The thought process is the same between figuring out what is stalking you as being faced with difficult decisions. Take in all the known information, analyze that information and make the best decision based on what is known. As an adult faced with a terrifying decision, I remember my dad’s saying and ask myself, “Are you going to let the fear of the unknown determine this decision?”