A Scary Night in Squeaky
One of the questions I get asked a lot is, “Do I ever get scared camping as a solo woman?” The answer is yes, sometimes. Sadly, I recently had one of those experiences.
After three wonderful days at Fort Stevens , I needed to head into Portland to take Olive to the vet. One of my apps listed Gnat Creek, a Forest Service campground, as a spot on Route 30 that seemed promising. I remember driving past the sign to the campground on numerous trips to the coast and since it’s a first come-first served campground, I figured I had a pretty good shot at getting a site on a Wednesday night.
Olive was having a hard day and I was glad to find a site just an hour up the road. The weather was a bit drizzly and not too warm. Gnat Creek is a Forest Service campground with no hook-ups and a pit toilet. Often these are my favorite types of campgrounds.
My first clue that I should have moved on was the sign that said “Tent Camping Only, No RVs, No Campers, No Trailers.” I sat there for a long time, trying to decide if it was OK to spend the night in Squeaky. She is an RV, but she doesn’t take up any more room than a car. In fact, I backed right back into an open campsite that was closest to the parking lot. It was kind of the perfect spot.
I decided to take a walk around while I made my decision. There is a creek right at the campground, down a steep path. As I was heading there, a woman came up and started talking. She commented on how pretty Olive is, as often happens, and then we realized we’d met a few days earlier at Ft. Stevens. I told her of my concern about staying in my van, given the signs about tent camping only.
She told me that she’d been staying there a few nights with her husband and she’d only seen a ranger come through once. I mentioned that my app listed some dispersed camping sites up the road and I was contemplating going up there. She warned me that there were a of transients up there and a lot of trash. She said she wouldn’t feel safe up there.
She then told me that one night she heard a car come park very close to where her car was. She thought maybe they were trying to steal the kayaks off the top. Her husband got out of the tent, yelled and shined a light and they quickly left. That should have been my other red flag. But knowing that she and her husband were camped nearby, I felt safer. I could yell for them if something was happening. I’d also seen the other campers come in. A single guy on a motorcycle in a tiny tent, a mom and her daughter in a minivan, and a couple who looked like they backpacked in. They all seemed harmless.
I decided to stay, primarily because I was tired, Olive wasn’t feeling well and I didn’t know if my other options would have openings. When I filled out the pay envelope, I wrote in that there were two people and one dog. I didn’t need to advertise the fact that I was alone.
Normally when I pull into a campground, I open all the window shades and let the natural beauty come in. Even though this was a pretty spot, I kept my reflextix on the windows and pretty much hunkered in my RV for most of the time. A lot of cars pulled in and out. There’s a pit toilet and the campground is pretty close to the highway, so I figured it was just folks coming to use the facilities.
There’s a nice hike right out of the campground, but Olive wouldn’t walk very far and I didn’t want to leave her alone in the van. I retired to bed pretty early, pulled up the back stairs in case I needed to leave quickly and got my can of bear spray ready.
Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
The first cars pulled in about midnight. The parking lot is gravel, so the sound of them driving in is very distinct. I heard a few people get out and start talking, but they didn’t stay around very long and didn’t come near my van, so I felt OK. I heard them continue on up the road, so figured they might have been part of the transient camp up the way.
Throughout the night more cars pulled in. 1am, 2am. I heard some crunching of footsteps close to my van, but no one banged on the windows or tried to open the doors. Then at 3am I heard several cars and a lot of hollering. I couldn’t tell if they were partying or fighting. My biggest concern was the unpredictable behavior of people on meth. A lot of rural Oregon is known for meth use. Who else would be up at 3am on a Wednesday night yelling? My heart was pounding in my chest, as I tried to decide what to do. It was 3am and Portland was about an hour and a half away. I was trying to remember if there were any Walmarts or places I could pull in off the road on the way to Portland.
There’s a little parking area just below the campground and that’s where the ruckus was coming from. In order to leave, I’d have to drive right through that area. I had no idea if the road was blocked or what I would encounter. The loud yelling continued for about half hour, then it quieted down. I eventually calmed down, but did not sleep very well. Thankfully, there was no more disturbances.
I was up and out first thing in the morning without even giving Olive a walk. I definitely don’t recommend Gnat Creek campground for solo women. I’m glad nothing happened other than being scared, but next time I’ll listen to my intuition and move on. What would you have done?
