What did the author do when she was charged by a wild boar? Has she ever taken a cat on an adventure with her? If she could change what happened on any of the trips she’s taken, would she?
1) The adventures you write about in the book are far more than most people have in one lifetime. I’m sure there are many more adventures in places you’ve traveled that you didn’t include in this book. Choose one of those and write about what happened.
You’re right, there are more. A few of them are in another book I’m writing about a pilgrimage I completed in 2009. I walked 1,200km around 88 temples on the island of Shikoku in Japan. I was walking alone and there were several close calls along the way, one of them I have no idea how I survived. However, it would be too much to go into that here. Instead, I’ll give you a short passage from the book about a wild boar I met along the journey.
I followed quiet villages through the valley until reaching a narrow mountain path and a sign I couldn’t read. It looked as if it might say something important (some of the letters were bright red) so I studied it a while. I recognised the Japanese characters telling me that it was two kilometres to the top but I couldn’t read the red characters to save my life. Staring at them long and hard didn’t seem to help and there was no one around to ask, so I gave up and stepped onto the path, hoping the scarlet characters were not referring to danger from snakes of any kind. I’d been warned to watch out for deadly brown snakes with triangular heads when walking through mountains and though I was curious about their triangle heads, I had no desire to meet one in person. Stones, mud and moist leaves made the narrow path tough going and coupled with the extreme angle upwards I could see why it was marked as only for good weather on the map.
Trees crowded the edges of the path, while others loped off into the forest. Sporadically they dispersed to give each other breathing space before thickening again. As I clambered on, they seemed to close around me, while the wind whistled eerily through the higher branches. Great! This was the perfect setting for a horror movie and true to genre I was alone, halfway up a mountain and no one knew where I was. All I needed was a clown and a maniacal chainsaw to pop up.
wild boar, Wikipedia
It turned out I didn’t need them. A cold shiver crawled slowly up my spine and I stopped dead. What was that sound? Pictures of vengeful snakes and angry bears fought for my attention and the bubble of fear I had been containing pretty well so far, burst. I panicked and surged ahead, trying to keep my breathing even, eyes on the path until the mud, gouged roughly at the side of the trail showed signs of wild boar and my focus changed from triangle heads and bear claws to large fang-like teeth and long tusks. I veered sideways to avoid the steaming fresh dung and the realisation hit me – if it was that fresh, then it’s owner must be…
Suddenly, a scrambling growling noise filled the air, time seemed to speed, I was disoriented, a creature was hurtling through the trees to my right. Panic snatched my breath and my stomach swallowed itself. I bolted up the path, but almost immediately something made me stop sharply and turn. A wild boar was charging toward me, tusks forward. I knew I had to stay still, I didn’t know why, I just knew. My heart was outside my chest, beating to get in, my head swimming like a drunk but I stood firmly and watched him careering at me. “It’s okay,” I tried muttering to myself in attempt to stay calm. My legs wanted to buckle but I held on, watching him close on me as if in a dream. Closer. Closer.
Abruptly and without missing a beat, he changed direction and disappeared into the thicker trees.
Without thought, I turned and belted up the steep muddy path, ignoring the weight of the pack pulling me backwards. On and on, adrenaline pushed me forward and up. Snorts and rustling seemed to fill the trees around me until I could no longer tell what was real except the eerie cry of the wind that never let up. A fallen tree blocked the path and I tripped but my footsteps never hesitated as I recovered, mounted the bank and found a way around, mud sucking at my boots. No thought of triangle headed snakes now as I pounded on, my pack swinging awkwardly, no thoughts on anything until, “How far up does this mountain go?” but I couldn’t stop to look up and dared not look behind, so I kept going, gasping for more breath as it rasped and struggled wildly in my chest.
To be honest, I’d never thought a wild boar could be frightening until this happened. “It’s a pig,” I told myself before I started the pilgrimage and was working out which things scared me, and which didn’t. Turns out they’re not just pigs after all and are up for playing their part in a horror movie very well. I hadn’t looked up advice on what to do when a boar charges at you because I was too busy looking up snakes and bears. I have no idea what made me stop running and turn to face it other than that calm knowing that can appear in a crisis. I have often found this on my travels and it’s reassuring to know that capacity is within me.
2) I understand that you love cats. That is something we have in common. I have nine cats. Each cat has a distinct personality and I love every one of them. I doubt that you’ve ever taken one of your cats with you on an adventure, but what do you think it would be like if you did?
Oh wow, that’s a great question! Taking a cat traveling would definitely be an adventure. I would have loved to have a cat walking with me when I did the Shikoku Pilgrimage in Japan and I think of all the cats I’ve had or known, I would love to have had Barky with me. Barky was a one-off, a wild cat who decided my friend’s house was hers one day. She was a calico with a severe attitude problem who frequently held people hostage by sitting on them and refusing to get off. She rarely had to resort to claws because her intensity and clear disdain for others was enough to scare the pants off you. However, she was happy to let you know when you didn’t do as she desired, gouging a few clear lines out of your arm or sinking her teeth into some part of your anatomy until you really understood what you had done wrong.
cat with mouse, wikimedia commons
Given that, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d want her along with me. The thing about Barky was that her confidence and presence in the world were palpable, even inspiring. I stayed with the woman she had chosen to own for a year or so and as a result, had the good fortune of being accepted as one of Barky’s trusted few. She began talking to me in pictures, which I’d never experienced before. I would be searching for a snack in the fridge and suddenly, a picture of Barky sitting outside at the front door would flash through my mind. I was startled the first time it happened and went to the door just to check… there she was, waiting for me to let her in. After that, she regularly let me know when the door needed opening. One time she got stuck on a high gate in the garden and couldn’t jump down as she was getting old. I couldn’t work out why pictures of the back gate kept flashing into my head until I went out to see what was happening and there she was, waiting for me. After that, she never gouged me again, I’d gained the rare privilege of earning her respect.
When I turned to face the wild boar on my pilgrimage in Japan, I was probably channeling Barky as she would have done the same. I guess this means the answer to your questions is yes, I have taken a cat traveling with me, but only metaphorically. On second thought, I can’t imagine Barky racing up the mountain in terror afterward; it’s far more likely she’d have turned her back and started washing to show just how afraid she wasn’t.
3)Thinking back over all the trips you’ve taken and the near-death experiences you’ve had on each of them, if you could go back and change any of them, would you? Why or why not?
I’ve asked myself this question before. It’s tempting to say I wouldn’t get on the bus in South Africa because of all the experiences I’ve had, that was the most traumatising. I can usually see the funny side of things. Even as they are happening I think of the great story it will make later on in an effort to make myself feel better, but that trip was just a nightmare from start to finish.
coastal road landscape in South Africa, GoodFreePhotos
Having said that, I wouldn’t change it, or any other experience I’ve had. As frightening as many of them were (and with a great deal of hindsight) I can see that all experiences give us the resources we need to respond to life differently. I have gained so much from all of them and I use the snippets of wisdom I have learned while traveling to help me in my life on a daily basis. Even the South Africa trip taught me something—not only to listen to my gut, which I mention in the book. It taught me how strong and resilient I am, that in the face of challenge after challenge and threat after threat, at the moment I want to give up most, I can reach deep inside and find the strength to carry on, to fight back when needed and to find a way through.
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Thanks so much for hosting Amanda!
You’re welcome. I really enjoyed the questions 🙂