Out-Doors
by Elizabeth Bassett

Lost in the Out-Doors

Last week I got lost in the woods. Yes, Out-Doors columnist, Nature Girl, and author of Nature Walks in Northern Vermont and the Champlain Valley, got misplaced. And not very far from home.
I’m embarrassed, yes. I didn’t plan to get lost – that’s why I scampered away from home without even eating breakfast. I’d be back in no time.
Not.
I had directions from a friend to the top of Buck Mountain in Vergennes, Mt. Philo without the pavement, she had said. A street sign was missing but I had a map and the driving directions were flawless. I found the pullout, parked the car, and asked a passerby if this was the place. She indicated a trail into the woods. So far so good, 9:30 a.m.
The directions were so easy I figured I couldn’t go wrong. I stopped to smear on more bug dope – mosquitoes love all this rain – and started walking. There were no trail markings but how hard could it be? I walked for about a half-hour longer than I expected based on the Gazetteer. I turned onto a couple of trails that I figured should go to the top. But none of them did. I had walked for about an hour when I decided to look at my compass to make sure I wasn’t going in circles. (I was.) To my surprise, I was walking in the wrong direction. I turned around. Horseflies were chomping on my scalp. Time to put on a kerchief.
Hopping from one foot to the other to keep the insects at bay, I opened my pack to find most of my emergency kit missing. After we hiked with our kids in Colorado a few weeks ago I had not returned everything to its place. I had matches and a candle, a few band-aids, a whistle, toilet paper, a tape measure (to measure that champion tree!), not much water, and a small baggie of trail mix. No kerchief. I pulled up the hood of my raincoat and kept walking.
I recently read an article in Sierra about emergency preparedness in the woods. Had I left the footprints of my boots so that I could be tracked if necessary? No. Did anyone know where I was and when I was expected home? Yes and no, respectively. Did I have a large plastic bag from which I could fashion a shelter or collect water from leaves if necessary? No. How about a length of cord for shaping that shelter or stringing a snare to catch protein on-the-hoof? Of course not. Hat, gloves, emergency blanket? Not a chance. I usually carry all three, even in summer. Did I ever imagine I could get turned around looking for the summit of Buck Mountain in Vergennes? No. I was glad not to be in Starksboro or Montana right now.
I followed my compass hoping that wherever I was I would eventually return to Route 66 where my car was parked. Suddenly the trail began to rise. I’d been looking for an uphill trail for 90 minutes. Soon the canopy thinned and in no time I was on an open ridge covered with blueberries and juniper with an expansive view to the west: farmland, Lake Champlain, the Adirondacks. Ah, the lovely summit of Buck Mountain.
I knew where I was but I had no idea how I had arrived there. I looked at my compass. It was reading about 180 degrees off. (Note to self: buy better compass.) I had little confidence in my ability to get back to the car.
So I pulled out my phone. Those who know me are entitled to a chuckle. I do not appreciate cell phones in many contexts, but I did have the good sense to carry one. Furthermore it was charged and showed three bars. Eureka. Alas, no calls went through. Nothing. Nada.
I zipped the lame compass into one pocket and the phone into another. I focused my brain on the cardinal directions and started downhill on the most worn trail. Before leaving the summit I made two sets of firm boot tracks in a sheltered spot and left a piece of paper beneath a rock with my initials, the date, and time. Now I could be tracked. Well maybe; now it was raining again.
At the first intersection I tried my phone again. Only one bar but I reached my friend. I described my whereabouts. She asked several questions and gave me some advice. The she said. “I have to confess. The first time I hiked up Buck Mountain we never even found the summit.”
That made me feel a little better but not much. As I walked I began to recognize things. I pay attention to wildflowers and trees because I love them so. Here’s the scary part – I realized I had passed some of these places twice, once from each direction. I had indeed been going in circles.
The end of this tale is boring: I returned easily to the car. Next time I’ll take my friend. I’ll bring my new compass and take some notes. I recommend that you read, “How Not to Die in the Woods,” in the current issue of Sierra, written by a former Green Beret, Paul Rauber, with a self-deprecating sense of humor. Go to sierraclub.org/sierra/.
Rule Number One: Don’t do anything stupid. A couple of other things: inexpensive disposable lighters and a wad of dryer lint in petroleum jelly as fire tinder (carry it in a film canister); a Mylar emergency blanket that will keep you warm and also could be used to signal rescuers (probably not in Vergennes). He suggests creating a snare with the cord and sharpened sticks to snag a few protein meals. I hope never to get to that step.
But I never thought I’d be lost on Buck Mountain either.