Finding Yourself
The year is winding down. Hopefully, all is well with you, your family and your friends as you celebrate good cheer with lots of good food and an eggnog or two. I figure now is a good time to spin a tale or two, helping you further unwind from the bustle of this past year. It’s amazing how fast time flew by.
Get yourself cozy, take another sip and enjoy this story about the journey of finding myself. After all, it’s the time of year not to take things so seriously and laugh.
Not All Who Wander ...
All great explorers, be they toddlers, teenagers, or tired travelers, have one thing in common. That is the desire to explore the unknown, breaking the boundaries and barriers mere mortals are scared to go. Most are blessed with a great internal compass. We’re not talking about a moral compass, though it would be nice, but a directional compass, so they know where they’re going without ever stepping foot on virgin ground.
Lewis & Clark may or may not have had it, but surely their Native American guide, Sacagawea, did. One thing for certain: Lewis or Clarke weren’t stopping at any gas station to ask directions while mapping out the west. Famous frontiersman Daniel Boone has said, “I have never been lost, but I was bewildered once for three days.” J.R.R. Tolkien said, “Not all who wander are lost.” Lastly, Mandy Hale states, “Sometimes when you lose your way, you find yourself.”
Getting There
Heck, I’ve found myself so often while hunting it’s boring if I don’t get “lost.” About 35 years ago, I went on a “guided” hunt in Canada. It was the Northern Big Woods owned by a paper mill. Canadian law back then said you needed a guide to hunt unless you were 5 miles or less from camp. So, the outfitters simply dropped you off by your lonesome within the 5-mile radius.
It was particularly nice the first day of the hunt. I was dropped off at my spot and told I’d be picked up at noon to go to another stand and to stay put! By 10 o’clock, my lunch bags were empty, and boredom had started to set in. Being such a great day, I figured I’d cover some ground and walk the logging roads a bit. What could go wrong?
After an hour, I came to a fork in the road and chose to go left. A little further, and I hit another fork. After a couple of hours, everything looked the same and I was well on my way to getting disoriented.
This particular paper mill also had 100-year leases for hunting camps made of small log cabins. They were scattered along the logging roads, usually 3-4 miles from each other.
Bewildered?
Bewilderment had set in, as Daniel Boone would say. Fighting panic, the aroma of grilled burgers wafted through the air. I followed the enticing charred meat trail for two reasons. First, to find out where I was at, and secondly, all this walking had made me hungry. The closer I got, the hungrier I became.
Breaking through a thick section of secondary growth, I finally found the source of the aroma. Sitting around the fire, waiting for their lunch, were four hunters all dressed in green/black plaid wool coats. Seeing me, the group invited me over. “Hungry?” one of them asked. “Sure am,” I stammered. While drinking hot coffee and eating our burgers, a pick-up truck pulled up.
Telephone
Remember the game telephone we played in school, showing how messages get distorted as they are told over and over by different people? Well, this was a great example of it.
“I just heard from the next camp over we have a lost hunter, and he’s got dementia and is known to wander off. There’s a search party forming at the hardware store.” Feeling sorry for the old lost bird, we stuffed the last bite of cheeseburger down our gullets, took a final gulp of coffee and headed out.
Once at the hardware store, we were divided into teams of two and given search zones. While searching our zone with my partner, we headed toward another logging road and spotted a pickup truck headed our way. The driver was shouting at us and waving his arm out the window. We figured the old lost coot found a truck and was trying to summon us for help.
When I get up next to the truck, I’m surprised to see the outfitter. “Are you looking for the lost man too?” I ask. “Get in the truck, knucklehead! You’ve caused enough trouble! I was the one that requested the search party … for you!”
It took a moment for it to sink in. Then, I started laughing. I yelled to my search partner that I was going to ride with the guy in the truck for a bit. The outfitter nonchalantly called the search off, and I got an ear full about following directions.
But it was kind of neat being in a search party looking for myself. Back to Mandy Hale’s words, “Sometimes when you lose your way, you find yourself,” and I kinda did that day.
Happy New Year!
