Security - Guns, pepper spray, or an axe

When I announced my intentions to solo-drive across the country many years ago, one of the first responses I received was, "you better buy a gun." I've never owned a gun, and don't really plan on it, and I don't have a problem with them, per se (a whole different conversation I've no intention of starting here). The implication that I would need a gun on my trip was the implication I would be in so much danger, I would be forced to murder someone to survive. I wasn't crazy about those implications. As strange as it sounds, except on very bad days, I try to live by Anne Frank's words, that people are inherently good, and this has felt more true as I've gotten older. Don't get me wrong. I know other people have bad days too, when they are not living along that kind of philosophy. I've generally approached this as an opportunity to remind people they are good. 

When I'm walking or driving in a bad neighborhood, and I see someone, usually a man, I know I should be afraid of (and honestly probably am), I smile, maybe wave, and say hello, good morning, or something cheerful. Because humans like to practice mirroring, I usually get a smile and wave back, and I feel good for the exchange. Honestly, this works less well in white collar districts. People in suits are more likely to scowl and try to run me off the road. Generally, this is why I don't trust people who are rich or aspire to be. 

But one of the most common questions I get is don't I feel like I am in danger traveling alone? I always think, not in my own country. It's been allowed for many years for women to move about unchaperoned. We aren't stoned for it at the gates of the city. "Don't you have a gun? Aren't you scared?" Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I usually say. This calms most people. They like proverbs. 

What does make me nervous--all the mention of guns. I hear "gun" more often in the month or two with the trailer than the rest of the year. It's like the word charges the situation, like a John Wayne style threat. "Go for your gun, Pilgrim."  Especially when men say it. I immediately assume they're carrying one and trying to establish dominance. I know it's ridiculous and everyone's intentions are good, that they worry, or they're voicing their own fears about such adventure. So I'll say, oh, I have bear pepper spray, which I do. Generally for bears, but I sometimes carry it when walking around at night in the woods. 

Years ago, I bought a dull axe at a yard sale for chopping fire wood kindling. It's on a shorter handle, like a hatchet, but has a heavy, old axe head. Opposite the blade is a hammer shape, which I've also used a second hammer to pound tge axe like a wedge to split the wood the blade is too dull to cut. I forgot about my axe until I cleaned out all the hidden crevices for this trip. (I also spent a week at a 1840s camp where they tried to teach me to throw a tomahawk; a friend gave me a beautiful hawk of my own to throw and practice with. So I have that too.)

When I went to the Herkimer Diamond mines, they recommended bringing a heavy hammer. The back if that axe blade is the heaviest I have, so the last few days, I've carried it with me on my hikes into quarries for rock hunting. So the last few days, it's been on my passenger seat next to my camera bag. 

Hitting someone with an axe seems less violent to me than a gun (probably no one agrees with this, but that's just me), but also more scary. Imagine me smiling and saying hello and you say, "I'm gonna rape n murder you," and I pull out my axe? I think that would freak someone out. Prey with an axe is prey to give you pause. Like how you're supposed to punch a shark if it's charging you (and you see it); generally, the sharks will leave if they aren't in a frenzy.

I was talking with my mom today and was telling her how last night's evening hike to a quarry ended up on a narrow trail with little peripheral vision, and in clearly moose-infested woods. I had decided it just was too late in the day for this plan and gave up. "Good thinking," she said, then something about how I needed to stay more safe. "Mom, I was carrying an axe I keep in my car." She groaned and said, "I could have gone my whole life without hearing that." Well, I was. But I didn't mention the tomahawk.

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I stopped at a weird junk shop/yard sale/hoarder house a couple days ago. The little only man in the recliner out front was wearing a crisp blue linen shirt covered in appliqué ducks. I came up and saw he was eyeing the trailer.

"Where you from?" He asked. 

"Indiana."

"Are you alone? Why aren't you traveling with your husband? Or boyfriend? Or girlfriend even?"

I said something about being on a long trip and they couldn't get the time off work. Then I said I was headed for Augusta. He jumped up and said he could give me directions. He found a 2003 atlas and followed me around, looking for the Maine page while I contemplated the junk. When he found it, he pointed at the quickest way to Augusta, then told me the quickest way back to Indiana, then wanted me to buy the atlas for five dollars. I listened politely, because he was old, and said thank you, but I couldn't help thinking he was sure I made a terrible mistake and needed to help get me home as fast as possible!