After taking what proved to be an unpleasant test, I decided to drive the 35 minutes home. I was going to work in between classes, but the weather was nice so I decided to take advantage of it. I have a Powerpoint project due on Sunday for my Human Geography class. We have to take pictures of our town and show how we adapted/adapted to the landscape and made it our own. How our culture and architecture, etc. have developed. The weather has been lousy lately so, though it was cold out, I grabbed my camera and stalked the town with it. I’m sure people were wondering what the heck I was doing; I got some strange looks. Whatever. I’ve just given the small town something to gossip about. Because you know they will. I try to fly under the radar, therefore while some people know me in town, there are also quite a few who don’t. By tomorrow I will have become a movie scout, an undercover reporter, or perhaps a crazed stalker who took pictures of everything in order to cover up who my real target was. The truth- that I was doing homework – will never occur to them. I expect to get a call from my MIL within the next 24 hrs. asking about it; she’s lives in this town, too.
Anyway.
I wanted to take a picture of the Appalachian trail. There’s a sign where it meets up with a local walking path in the woods and I want to include that in my presentation. As I approached the entrance to the path, it warned me to be careful because bears have been seen around there. The sign looked a little old, though, so I didn’t worry about it. After all, it’s winter and the bears are hibernating. But when I got about 1/4 mile into the forest, it occurred to me that the weather has been warmer lately, and it is getting close to Spring. Bears could be waking up, cranky and hungry.
“Crap.” I thought. “And I’m stupid enough to come out here alone. Nobody knows where I am or what I’m doing. Brilliant.” Normally I’d be worried about psychopaths, but I think I was the only one crazy enough to be out there at this time of year. In boots with short heels. Walking on intermittent patches of ice. Yup. That’s me.
After considering my situation, I decided to push on. I’d come about halfway so I might as well get my shot. I glanced down a few minutes later and saw some tracks. Canine. At which point I remembered that I’ve seen a couple of coyotes in the area very recently. “I’m such an idiot!” I muttered. Though I was fairly certain that these were dog tracks – people like to walk their dogs there – I had no real way of knowing. I picked up my pace, constantly looking around me and listening for the slightest noise. Dead leaves kept rustling in the wind, convincing me that something was going to come charging out from behind a tree at any moment. I finally got to the Appalachian Trail sign, took my photos and then paused. I had two choices: I could continue around the loop to the parking lot, or go back the way I came. Going on would probably have been shorter, but it would take me deeper into the woods. Going back meant that I would have the river on one side, and there’s a road on the other side of the river. I chose to go back the way I came. The way I figured it, if something attacked me I could throw myself down the (very tall, steep) embankment (bouncing off trees and rocks like a pinball) and swim out into the river. I realize that bears and coyotes can swim, but with the road there I figured I stood a better chance of getting help. Or, at the very least, someone would see me and know who to notify as next of kin, along with an approximation of where my remains could be found.
It seems that I made it out alive or, if not, my demise was quick and painless and I am now a… wait for it…
… ghost writer.
Sorry, couldn’t help myself.
