Getting lost in a department store and not being able to find the way I came in is embarrassing enough. However, it's in the woods where my lack of orienting skills are most noticeable.
Once, I went looking for morel mushrooms in a nearby state park. I had a rather useless dog on a leash as we followed a deer trail. Making careful note of a group of tall trees for a landmark, I conducted a thorough search of the ground for morels. Coming back to the trees, I was astonished to find they were not the same group of trees at all. Impostor trees, who would have thought it? That's a trick that trees do when you are otherwise engaged.
Of course, it would have to be an overcast day, so the sun was no help. When I realized that I didn't know which direction to go, my head started spinning. I had to fight the urge to start running, and probably would have, if I could have run in several directions at once. It was a Missouri woods completely devoid of bears, cougars or even squirrels. The reason for my panicky feelings was the sun, though hiding behind thick clouds, was edging toward the far horizon. Setting, in fact. There were many wild rose canes, thorny greenbriar and underbrush that I definitely did not want to meet in the dark.
Sitting down on a log to collect what remained of my thoughts, I heard some kids yelling off in the distance. The park was surrounded by farmland, which put the location of the noise in the park's picnic area. Trusting that they weren't lost, too, I realized I was 180 degrees out. Turning around, I followed the cries and reached my car before it got really dark.
When my son was little, a similar episode occurred when we lived in Washington State. Chris and I had followed the path in the woods not far from our house. We were snacking on huckleberries when I realized I'd misplaced the trail. It was a logged-over bit of woods littered with downed branches that offered no sure footing, unless you were a Sasquatch. Darkness was closing in when I thought of Chris' little friend who lived nearby.
Stepping up on a big tree stump, I cupped my hands and yelled, "Robbie!" until a faint uncertain voice answered. "It's Chris's mom," I hollered back. "We're up in the woods and can't find the path. Come up!" Shortly, he appeared, I got my bearings, found the elusive path and we were saved.
No boy likes to be accompanied by such a dim mother. Although Chris was only seven, he was reluctant to ever go into the woods with me again.
So, this land is perfect for the bearings-challenged person. It is only possible to walk upriver because the bank by the bridge is too steep. Also, the bridge is a pretty big feature. Even a child couldn't get lost in the narrow strip of woods between the river and the fields. The river stays obligingly in sight. Now, it's freezing over here at Clam Beach.
Even though I am dismal at getting my bearings, my superior snow tracking skills revealed that two young children and a teen passed this way with their mother and grandmother. Apparently, they were looking at the beaver-cut young trees and the place where the beaver slid down the steep bank to the water before the river froze.
