Good Morning. It is 5:29 at the moment, and I've been awake for about an hour. I finally gave in and pulled myself out of bed, as those to do lists are still waiting. Pitty Pat the cat who so often insists on sitting on my lap when I'm on the computer, is actually curled up next to me taking a morning nap after an extra early breakfast. (Guess who woke me up because she was hungry at 4:30 am?) A few minutes later Madeline was barking at the car which was coming down the road to deliver the paper. She starts when they get to the neighbor's house, and continues this morning drama until the car drives away.
So...back to the story. I believe I had been wandering about the forest for about two hours when we left off.
There I was, panicky, my heart in my throat, my legs feeling a bit like lead, and the forest seemed to be full of taunting trees. Usually I'm a tree hugger, but when one is lost amongst them, trees become quite sinister. This increases the panic. Even the most experenced hunters have lost their way at times, and have felt the panic of the forest. I think that's why the god of the forest is named Pan. Panic derives from the name.
Finally I took some deep breaths and tried to calm myself down enough to think about what to do. I suddenly remembered what Steve had said about the area: If you ever get lost in the woods around here, just head downhill and soon enough you'll come to a road. I could breath again. And that's just what I did. I climbed over a wooden fence and headed down hill. Soon enough I was in a pasture on a very big hillside. And off in the distance there was indeed a road. Glory be. I started to weep in relief, and headed down the muddy hill. It wasn't long before I was falling on my patooty. This happened several times. One of those times I landed in a cow pie. Lovely...now I smelled to high heaven. I didn't care, I just kept getting up and sliding in slow motion righjt back down on my butt. The smell from the cow pie was bringing back memories from my childhood in Nebraska. I spent a lot of time out on the farm of my brother in law who always warned me to stay out of the pasture where he kept the bull. That bull was dangerous as all get out. Panic was returning as I looked around for the absent bovine. The pasture was empty creatures, except the one sliding down the hillside, mostly on her backside.
At long last I reached the bottom of the hill, and realized I was going to have to cross a stream. But there, on the otherside of the stream, and what looked like a meadow and of course a fence, was that blessed road. Surely there would be someone who would stop and help me. I gazed at the cold water that was moving along as happy as can be, impervious to my plight. I usually loved mountain streams, but the beauty of this one was lost on me. I hope the reader can forgive the fact that I wasn't quite present to that part of the scene before me.
Reaching down, I removed my shoes and and socks. I figured I would want their warmth after the cold reality of that water. The stream wasn't all that wide, and it was shallow enough. It didn't take long to cross it. Happily I set my foot on what I thought was solid ground. Not so. It was mud. I took a step. Surely this situation was going to change in a moment, and I would feel the strong earth beneath my feet. Instead I sank up to my ankle. It was a bog. I didn't know much about bogs at the time. I'd grown up in Nebraska where there was occasional quicksand. But what in the world was this? I took another step and sank up to my calf. I twisted uncomfortably to look back at the hillside on the otherside of the stream. The scene was fairly dramatic looking. Adding to the sheer size of that mountainous, muddy hill, my imprints from slipping and sliding down it looked for all the world like the fingerprints of someone trying to find a last hold before falling over the edge. It was not a hill I would normally attempt to climb, and that would be when I was feeling energetic. At the moment I was so exhausted I didn't know how I was going to go on, much less go back. There was no way in the world I was going to get back up that hill. I gave it one last glance before turning around and facing what could very well be my last moments of life. There was no one in sight...a farmhouse in the distance. A road with no cars. And me...at the edge of a bog that extended before me. (I learned later that the little stream I had just crossed was the headwaters of the Delaware River.)
Hope you're enjoying the suspense. Of course I'm still here, so you know the story ends well. But there's still more to tell!
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