I sit down heavily on the tree stump and reach into my satchel for the bottle of water. Almost empty—gosh, how long have I been walking? I look at my watch—12:00 noon. It can’t be! I started the trail at noon! It was one of those mornings—I had gotten up late, missed the bus I was supposed to catch and had reached the Nature Trail center much later than I had planned.
I remove my watch from my wrist and examine it—obviously, my brand new Swatch “Sweet Sarong” had stopped around the time I started the trail. Strange! I give it a final futile shake and wear it back.
I look around. Where am I? I could see that I had climbed higher up on the hill. The forest is considerably denser than the trail below. It is definitely chillier and gloomier here. I shiver and pull my jacket around myself tightly, as a strong gust of wind rustle the trees and shower fall leaves all around me.
What trail am I on? I pull out the map. I open it and grin sardonically. I am extremely directionally challenged—maps just don’t make any sense to me. And this one is complicated, with trails criss-crossing each other. I know I completed the Wilderness trail and the Valley trail—I remember seeing signposts. Now, was I on Bee Tree trail or Deer Run trail?
I stamp down the small wave of anxiety tightening the muscles at the back of my neck. This is not difficult—I can do it. That was the point of this exercise anyway—how long did I want to be handicapped by my non-existent sense of direction?
I have my cell phone with me. If I get really lost, I can call up the Nature Center office or something. I rummage my satchel for my cell phone. I locate it and pull it out. This time, my anxiety will not be denied—my phone has switched itself off. How? I charged it just this morning! I try to switch it back on, but it remains adamantly dead.
I get up with a start. ‘Don’t panic, Think! Where did you last see a trail signpost?’ I ask myself, as I take a 360 degrees view around me. Not in a long time, I realize with a jolt.
I stand there undecided—which way should I turn? Should I go back the way I came up or follow the trail—it had to end somewhere?
I hear crunching of dry leaves. I heave a sigh of relief—it must be fellow trekkers. I had seen a few on my way up. I hope that it is a group of kids—I had seen a noisy one a long time back. I peer around the bend of the slope expectantly… nothing.
The sun ducks behind a cloud, casting long shadows. Something catches the corner of my eye—a chipmunk? I turn, but all I can see are trees, trees, and more trees. I hear a faint roar, like a strong gust of wind blowing at a distance. The trees around me stand stock-still.
With a sudden decision, I start hurrying ahead leaving the path I came up behind me. The forest around me is full of strange noises—an eerie cry overhead, the sigh of branches, the crunching of dry leaves, and the roar of wind, which seems to come nearer and nearer.
The trail ahead of me becomes less and less discernable. Again a movement catches the corner of my eye. It seems definitely more hulking than a chipmunk. I turn but again, shadows mingle with shadows and I can see nothing.
Maybe I’m on the Deer trail. Maybe that was a deer. I increase my pace nevertheless, almost trotting. I can feel someone or something very close to me.
“Hello?” I call out. No answer. “Is anybody there?” I call out again, feeling foolish. No response—no nice Peoria-kar this time, smiling and ready to chat.
I know that I am lost. And this part of the forest is spooking the hell out of me. I start to run, wanting to get out of it as soon as I can. I turn my ankle here and lose my balance there, but I keep on.
Why is it that I feel a sudden chill? I try to remember disjointed prayers in my head, as I negotiate the rough terrain. The map says that no trail is more than two miles long—I’ll definitely be out of this soon.
Suddenly, I trip—on a root, a stone, something. I flail my arms about with a cry, but there’s nothing to break my fall. I fall heavily—is it breathing that I hear? As I try to turn and look, something heavy falls on me—
Sorry, too many horror movies and too little candy this Halloween week.
I had an excellent communion with nature at the Forest Park Nature Trail this morning—but I was so alone most of the time in the forest that I thought anything could happen to me.
For some awesome photographs of my hike, check out http://picasaweb.google.com/priyat2006/ForestParkNatureTrail.
I remove my watch from my wrist and examine it—obviously, my brand new Swatch “Sweet Sarong” had stopped around the time I started the trail. Strange! I give it a final futile shake and wear it back.
I look around. Where am I? I could see that I had climbed higher up on the hill. The forest is considerably denser than the trail below. It is definitely chillier and gloomier here. I shiver and pull my jacket around myself tightly, as a strong gust of wind rustle the trees and shower fall leaves all around me.
What trail am I on? I pull out the map. I open it and grin sardonically. I am extremely directionally challenged—maps just don’t make any sense to me. And this one is complicated, with trails criss-crossing each other. I know I completed the Wilderness trail and the Valley trail—I remember seeing signposts. Now, was I on Bee Tree trail or Deer Run trail?
I stamp down the small wave of anxiety tightening the muscles at the back of my neck. This is not difficult—I can do it. That was the point of this exercise anyway—how long did I want to be handicapped by my non-existent sense of direction?
I have my cell phone with me. If I get really lost, I can call up the Nature Center office or something. I rummage my satchel for my cell phone. I locate it and pull it out. This time, my anxiety will not be denied—my phone has switched itself off. How? I charged it just this morning! I try to switch it back on, but it remains adamantly dead.
I get up with a start. ‘Don’t panic, Think! Where did you last see a trail signpost?’ I ask myself, as I take a 360 degrees view around me. Not in a long time, I realize with a jolt.
I stand there undecided—which way should I turn? Should I go back the way I came up or follow the trail—it had to end somewhere?
I hear crunching of dry leaves. I heave a sigh of relief—it must be fellow trekkers. I had seen a few on my way up. I hope that it is a group of kids—I had seen a noisy one a long time back. I peer around the bend of the slope expectantly… nothing.
The sun ducks behind a cloud, casting long shadows. Something catches the corner of my eye—a chipmunk? I turn, but all I can see are trees, trees, and more trees. I hear a faint roar, like a strong gust of wind blowing at a distance. The trees around me stand stock-still.
With a sudden decision, I start hurrying ahead leaving the path I came up behind me. The forest around me is full of strange noises—an eerie cry overhead, the sigh of branches, the crunching of dry leaves, and the roar of wind, which seems to come nearer and nearer.
The trail ahead of me becomes less and less discernable. Again a movement catches the corner of my eye. It seems definitely more hulking than a chipmunk. I turn but again, shadows mingle with shadows and I can see nothing.
Maybe I’m on the Deer trail. Maybe that was a deer. I increase my pace nevertheless, almost trotting. I can feel someone or something very close to me.
“Hello?” I call out. No answer. “Is anybody there?” I call out again, feeling foolish. No response—no nice Peoria-kar this time, smiling and ready to chat.
I know that I am lost. And this part of the forest is spooking the hell out of me. I start to run, wanting to get out of it as soon as I can. I turn my ankle here and lose my balance there, but I keep on.
Why is it that I feel a sudden chill? I try to remember disjointed prayers in my head, as I negotiate the rough terrain. The map says that no trail is more than two miles long—I’ll definitely be out of this soon.
Suddenly, I trip—on a root, a stone, something. I flail my arms about with a cry, but there’s nothing to break my fall. I fall heavily—is it breathing that I hear? As I try to turn and look, something heavy falls on me—
Sorry, too many horror movies and too little candy this Halloween week.
I had an excellent communion with nature at the Forest Park Nature Trail this morning—but I was so alone most of the time in the forest that I thought anything could happen to me.
For some awesome photographs of my hike, check out http://picasaweb.google.com/priyat2006/ForestParkNatureTrail.
Comments
Man, you sure have been watching too many of those horror flicks to imagine something like that in the goody-goody FPNC. Hey, did you notice that about 90% of the people visiting here were senior citizens?:)
And yes, I also noticed that a lot of the visitors are senior citizens.