Wild Soapman

Since moving into my great-grandfather’s homestead deep in Oregon’s Cascade Range in 2020, it’s been just me and Poncho, my trusty Bernese Mountain Dog. My great-grandfather was Samuel Adams Squatch, otherwise known as S.A.Squatch. You might have heard of him but you likely never saw him.

I bet you are wondering why I would want to be alone in the wild west.

The answer is simple and complex. I’m a germaphobe. I was freaked out about the novel virus, I hated wearing masks over my huge beard, and I am scared of needles. It’s called trypanophobia - the extreme fear of needles. 

Oh, you think that’s funny? A big, burly, hairy, guy like me is scared of a tiny, little, needle. Well, laugh all you want. I’m not afraid of living alone and I’m not afraid of dying but I am afraid of suffering. I’m terrified of getting poked by needles. I have no desire to feel a sharp, skinny, silver piece of metal stab into my flesh. If staying away from people means I don’t become a human pin cushion then that’s what I’m gonna do.

The only person I keep in touch with is my lawyer and business agent, Dan Livermore. He’s dull and lacks imagination. Physically, he’s a complete contrast to me. He’s old, bald, and as pale as a ghost. Dan is basically hairless. What little hair he has, is so white, you can barely tell it's there. What Dan lacks in physique, he makes up for in brains. Dan is business savvy and he’s getting richer every day due to the huge success of my new line of soaps. 

My cabin has a vintage wood burning Good Time Stove in the kitchen and let me tell you, I started having a darn good time making soaps. Turns out I'm a stupendous soap maker. To look at me, you’d think a guy that is this hairy couldn’t possibly smell good but my soaps are amazing. I made way more than I could use and I simply couldn’t stop. I started packaging them up and shipping them to Dan. He found a way to market them and he tells me he’s got my soaps for sale all over the country. Apparently, people can’t get enough of them. 

My mailbox is roughly two miles from my cabin. I use many different routes to get there so there will never be a beaten path. I’m stealthy in the woods. I like my privacy. I also have a great sense of direction. Maybe it comes with my super sense of smell. I write letters to Dan and place orders for raw materials or other things I need. Sometimes I check my mailbox in the middle of the night. I do random things to keep people guessing. 

My favorite movie is Nim’s Island. Jodie Foster is hot and I relate to her character, Alexandra Rover. Like Alexandra, I eat a lot of canned soup and I have agoraphobia - the fear of leaving home, or in my case, the woods. I’ve watched that movie countless times as I only have about fifty DVD’s and a small TV in the cabin. I installed a water powered turbine, hidden under a pile of deadfall, in a nearby creek. It provides a limited amount of electricity. I don’t have a cell phone or computer or any other device that could give away my location. I do most everything the old fashioned way. Snail mail is my jam. Sometimes I wonder if I was born in the wrong generation.

My great-grandfather had a moonshine distillery up in the woods and I’ve converted it to an essential oil distiller. I use the oils for my soaps. From the forests and the meadows I collect cedar, pinesap, wildflowers, and herbs to create my formulas. I harvest glacial clay from the creek beds to add to the soaps. For colors, I use berries of all sorts. I’ve made some pisspoor concoctions but for the most part, it’s been working. 

Poncho is good company and sometimes I put a harness backpack on him so that he can help haul things back to the cabin. I’ve been considering getting a couple sled dogs but they would be too noisy and I can’t have people come poking around. Poncho is quiet. He never barks or whines. 

The only thing I’m missing is the companionship of a lady. That would make my world complete. Last week, I accidentally got too close to the Pacific Coast Trail (PCT) when I was picking wild blueberries. I was so focused on berry picking that I nearly bumped into a solo through hiker who was also picking berries. Surprisingly, she wasn’t frightened to find me there. It almost seemed as if she was expecting me to be frightened of her. Well, I was a little scared of her. I’m scared of people in general. Something was different that day. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We compared our berry buckets. She was winning. 

She and I sat down for a bit on an enormous flat rock. We took a water break and ate some berries. This woman was so centered and calm. She had a peaceful presence that put me at ease. I haven’t felt that comfortable around anyone since my mom died in a freak car accident. That's when my amaxophobia - fear of riding in a car started. Anyway, it was nice to be around another person and be able to feel comfortable. She seemed so accepting and friendly. Obviously, she’s a brave and confident woman but she’s also gorgeous in a nerdy kind of way. I get the feeling she doesn’t know how pretty she is. She didn’t seem to be put off by my scruffiness. 

I did something I might regret, I gave her my mailing address and she gave me hers. Only thing is, she won’t be finishing her solo hike for at least another four to six weeks. She’s got about 600 more miles to go. At twenty miles per day, on a good day, that would take her 30 days. I’m going to have to wait a bit to see if she writes me back. I’ve been trekking to the mailbox daily. I’m so anxious. 

While waiting, I’ve started a new project. Dan tells me the market research is showing that women love my milder scents. Some women have confessed to secretly lathering up in the shower with their partner’s bar of soap. I think it’s high time the ladies had a soap of their own. I saw some wild roses on the mountain the other day, so that’s where I’m headed now. Gotta go get some rose hips to start making soap for my lady friend. In case she writes to me, I’ll have something to send back. Her name happens to be Rosanna. Isn’t that dandy?