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Park Number: 30/63
First Visited: February 23, 2012
“I awoke in a panic, jolting up and banging my forehead against the inside of the trunk. I patted around in the dark for my flashlight and hunting knife, soon finding them amongst my pillow of dirty laundry. But the fight-or-flight courage waned—because being ready for trouble and actually reacting to it are two different things. So I lay prostrate to the 3am terror, too afraid to unsheathe the blade—
This is what the adventure had come to: a grown man sleeping in a rental car’s luggage compartment because he thought it the safest place to be. Checking my face for blood, now I wasn’t so sure.
I’d chosen this option over camping because of the remnant fear of a hometown serial killer who used to cut holes in people’s tents and drag children from their slumber. My step-grandpa was the sheriff on the case, finding body parts in a freezer and burn barrels, him and I both carrying the remembrance in our nightmares. Hence, by folding down the Chevy Cruze’s backseats, I’d created a fortress for most my own body in the trunk—torso, arms, and head—with the rest exposed in the cab. Good thing, because someone lurked outside bent on entry, violent surges rocking my car in rhythmic waves. I took a breath, waited, took a breath, waited, as fear succumbed to confusion. Then curiosity. Because the shaking stopped.
Awkward as could be in a homicidal situation, I wiggled my sleeping-bag entombed body to the cab. Nothing unusual there. Still, I readied the knife, took a breath, opened the passenger door, and illuminated the scene, only to find . . . nothing. Human or otherwise. Nothing.
I let the adrenaline steady, gathered my bearings, rejoined the waking life. Rousing in a trunk is disorienting, but now the answer seemed obvious: seismic waves, tectonic shifting, the earth alive. My first earthquake. Made sense as I was sleeping near the world’s most active volcano. I was sleeping in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.”
—excerpt from “Incandescent Earth”
Polynesians from the Marquesas Islands were the first to settle Hawaii.
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Park Number: 30/63
First Visited: February 23, 2012
“I awoke in a panic, jolting up and banging my forehead against the inside of the trunk. I patted around in the dark for my flashlight and hunting knife, soon finding them amongst my pillow of dirty laundry. But the fight-or-flight courage waned—because being ready for trouble and actually reacting to it are two different things. So I lay prostrate to the 3am terror, too afraid to unsheathe the blade—
This is what the adventure had come to: a grown man sleeping in a rental car’s luggage compartment because he thought it the safest place to be. Checking my face for blood, now I wasn’t so sure.
I’d chosen this option over camping because of the remnant fear of a hometown serial killer who used to cut holes in people’s tents and drag children from their slumber. My step-grandpa was the sheriff on the case, finding body parts in a freezer and burn barrels, him and I both carrying the remembrance in our nightmares. Hence, by folding down the Chevy Cruze’s backseats, I’d created a fortress for most my own body in the trunk—torso, arms, and head—with the rest exposed in the cab. Good thing, because someone lurked outside bent on entry, violent surges rocking my car in rhythmic waves. I took a breath, waited, took a breath, waited, as fear succumbed to confusion. Then curiosity. Because the shaking stopped.
Awkward as could be in a homicidal situation, I wiggled my sleeping-bag entombed body to the cab. Nothing unusual there. Still, I readied the knife, took a breath, opened the passenger door, and illuminated the scene, only to find . . . nothing. Human or otherwise. Nothing.
I let the adrenaline steady, gathered my bearings, rejoined the waking life. Rousing in a trunk is disorienting, but now the answer seemed obvious: seismic waves, tectonic shifting, the earth alive. My first earthquake. Made sense as I was sleeping near the world’s most active volcano. I was sleeping in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.”
—excerpt from “Incandescent Earth”
Polynesians from the Marquesas Islands were the first to settle Hawaii.
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