Found

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.

Henry David Thoreau

Last week I posted about getting lost in the Pasayten Wilderness after forgetting my map on a day hike. That experience changed me in ways I did not fully understand until many years later. The fear that nearly overwhelmed me that day as I stood on the ridge top looking at a completely unfamiliar landscape turns out to be a common one for people who get lost, as detailed in the excellent book by Laurence Gonzales, Deep Survival. It would appear that we as a species have a deep need to know where we are. . . on the trail and in life. It is not uncommon to describe individuals struggling with various life challenges, such as addiciton or unemployment, as someone who has lost their way, who cannot figure out what to do next, where to go next.

When faced with such life challenges, as happens to everyone from time to time, I always choose the same path. . .a dirt one. I go for a hike. Five years ago after a disappointing section hike of Washington’s Pacific Crest Trail, I decided to take the “road less travelled,” to hike again across Washington, this time from east to west on the Pacific Northwest Trail. I anticipated that it would be less crowded. It is. It is also not for the inexperienced hiker. The route I had planned would take me up and over four different mountain ranges, from valleys to summits. I was sixty-eight at the time, still up for a challenge, still seeking answers on the trail as I have always done.

One thing that makes the PNT difficult is finding one’s way. Though the PNTA publishes updated maps every spring, there are few signs along the route and very few trail markers. Almost every thru hiker gets lost once or twice. I was no exception. Much of the route through northeastern Washington is on abandoned logging roads, grown over with brush and small trees, barely visible so that junctions can easily be missed, even with good navigation tools.

My summer on the PNT marked the first year a Guthook app became available for the trail, but it was new, and there were some errors. The first time I missed a junction I figured out not long below it that I was going down instead of up and therefore had missed the old road that would lead me uphill and south to the Kettle Crest Trail at Boulder Pass. That mistake added only about a mile to the day’s hike, but the second time had me wandering five miles out of my way on a day that I had planned a twenty mile hike to my next campsite. After that long day I essentially ignored the Guthook App, using my map and taking a compass heading at every junction, which served me well for the duration of the trip. Even when I am certain of my route these days I often take these precautions.

A couple of days later I took a break from the trail in the sweet little town of Republic (see Following the Trail Home, May 16, 2021). The following year my husband and I bought a lovely log home just north of town. We were finding our way, it seemed. I turned seventy that year and celebrated my birthday on Thanksgiving, sharing a dinner with my family, looking out the window of the dining room at the snow covered Kettle River Mountains.

I have moved again since that celebrated meal, to a smaller home, and I live here alone now except for my dog Lulu, another one of those life challenges. It has not been an easy time for me, but as always, I stop often and check my internal compass. My family visited for the holiday weekend, and as my daughter and I were returning home from a walk with Lulu I looked up to see my house, the firewood neatly stacked on the porch, smoke curling from the chimney, a small Christmas tree visible through a window. This was my home, and it would be warm and cozy inside. This is what it feels like to find your way home.