Lost In The Woods

When I was around ten years old, my mom started dating a guy named Mike.  Mike had two adult children, and one that was two years older than me named Michael.  During their courtship, the kids were often included on dates.  My mom was always adventurous and so hiking at a nearby mountain seemed like a good family outing.  We marveled at the reds and yellows of the maples, oaks, and hickories that surrounded Pilot Mountain as we hiked the well-marked trails.  My brother, sister, and I were getting along with Michael and mom and Mike seemed to be hitting it off.  Everything was going great, until it started to get dark.

Time completely escaped us, likely because the gaggle of children aged seven to around twelve weren’t exactly moving top speed on the trail.  Mom and Mike began to get a little nervous as the sun began to set and the temperatures dropped significantly.  A rock climber nearby gave Mike a lead on a short cut and the next thing we knew, we were all climbing a steep crevice.  I’ve always been afraid of heights, mostly because I’m extremely clumsy and don’t particularly love the idea of falling down higher than necessary. 

I had to block this out of my mind as I scrambled up the face, grabbing roots and saplings on my way up, imagining all the ways this could end badly.  My younger sister Staci was the champion of the climb, scrambling up like a tiny blonde spider monkey.  She seemed unphased by our predicament and just bebopped along in the middle of the pack.  My younger brother, Shawn, always the macho one, pretended to be unaffected as he crested the wall and made his way to the waiting wood line.  Michael was born without a left hand, so Mike had to push him steadily up the face to assist his climb.

Once we all made it to the top of the thirty- or so-foot crevice, we couldn’t find the trail.  It was a sea of newly fallen leaves and oppressive hardwoods.  It felt like the trees were closing in on us.  Surely, we were close to a trail marker we thought, but none were visible.  We wandered through the woods like a mini search party scouring the trees for the telltale markers.  We were lost and now it was full dark!

Thankfully, there was enough starlight for us to see, but we wandered aimless for what felt like hours.  At one point I started thinking of all the things that could go wrong.  We were going to freeze to death, rattlesnakes are going to find us by our warmth, what if we starved or someone kidnapped us?  Thoughts like these ceased my mind.  I began to cry.  Not only was I crying, I was yelling “we’re going to die” in a full-on panic.  Michael also began to whimper, but if you called him on it, he’d likely beat you to death, so we let it slide.

At one point we stopped to take a break, and my mom had had enough of my fearful bellyaching and threatened to give me something real to cry about.  What’s more real than dying in the woods I thought to myself.  Just as all hope was about to be lost, Shawn realized the “tree” he was leaning against was actually a sign indicating the direction of the parking lot.  We weren’t far from our salvation.  The mood shifted, and we found the path again.  We crunched our way from the leaf covered trail and quickly made it back to the warm car.  What a night.

Mike never lost his cool.  He drove us back to our home in High Point and we ordered pizza and rented “Kindergarten Cop” from Blockbuster.  Their date was salvaged, no one died, and he proved to be a solid dude under pressure.  I guess that’s why my mom married him a few years later.  I actually had the honor to give my mom away at that wedding.    

Mike didn’t introduce us to the outdoors necessarily, as my sister, brother and I spent our childhood in the woods chasing critters, but he introduced us to hiking in the mountains.  Although that first experience wasn’t ideal, it opened up a whole new world for us.  We didn’t go back to Pilot Mountain again until I was in high school, just in case.  Many family outings were spent hiking and camping around Hanging Rock State Park, or Stone Mountain State Park and a myriad of other wild places.  It left a mark. 

Sometimes, when things are at their absolute worst, you learn what you’re made of.  That first experience lost in the woods showed me a deep ceded fear that I was carrying.  I felt helpless because I didn’t know what to do.  I was small and weak and felt useless out there.  I spent a number of years exploring and finding myself lost in the woods, and many times I was completely alone. 

Thankfully, I don’t fall apart anymore.  I believe it was because of the example Mike set for me on that first trip.  He didn’t yell or get mad; he was just steady.  His demeanor was even keeled and he didn’t panic, he just stayed the course and got us back to safety.  He never lost his cool.  I’ve started looking at adversity as opportunities for adventure and fodder for great stories.  I’ve tried to look at times I didn’t rise to the occasion as opportunities for growth versus reasons to further heap guilt and shame on my shoulders.  Of all the times we hiked since, this one stands out the most because things didn’t work out perfectly, but we ended up ok anyway.  When things went well, they were fun, but easily forgotten.  There’s something to overcoming odds that feel insurmountable that gives us the courage to try again…and again. 

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