Through the Trees

How could I be lost so close to civilization? Two or three miles to the west or east would take me to a road or to the coast. But heading due east or west is for skilled trackers, and people with compasses. I do not belong to either of those groups. I was raised as a city kid and came to the great outdoors later in life. This part of the world, and of the country, is fairly new to me. I’m fairly sure I’m not about to die out here, but I do feel disoriented and slightly panicked.

The Oregon coast is beautiful. Rugged, and backed by forest-covered mountains. My house sits at the edge of a forest, ringed by tall pine and fir trees. It’s a mixed blessing. The air is always cool and heavily oxygenated, and it feels fresh to step out into it. The roof and gutters need regular attention because of the constantly falling needles and cones, and the ever-present risk of forest fires. There is an almost constant noise of limbs falling from trees, even when there is no wind. In high winds, there is a risk of a sixty-foot tree toppling on to the roof. All kinds of wildlife pass through, from the cute to the scary.

This adventure is my dog Mia’s fault. We were walking in the forest, still within clear sight of the parked car, when she saw a critter and took off in pursuit of it. I yelled at her. She has no more experience as a woodsman than I do, and her self-protection skills are non-existent. Taking note of my surroundings, I followed in the direction where she had disappeared, calling her name.

The forest is not so very dense, but the trees are close enough to each other to limit visibility. The footing is tricky on slippery, uneven ground. Tree roots and fallen branches and animal holes can easily trip you up. You have a choice of looking where you are going or keeping your eyes on the ground. I hear a noise ahead and look up. The next thing I know, I am hurtling forward, putting out my hands to break my fall. I’m not as young and flexible as I used to be. The shock of the fall leaves me gasping. While still flat on the ground, I start to assess the damage. My hands hurt. I lift my right hand gingerly and see that I have dirt and leaves on my palm, and blood on the heel of my hand, with skin torn and thorns sticking out. Not wanting to put pressure on my hands, I push up on to my elbows and knees. My knees protest, but I can’t see if they’re damaged because I’m wearing jeans. Men’s jeans, tough denim, not molded to my legs. Very practical for hiking. At least they aren’t torn. Hopefully that meant my knees are bruised but not bleeding. I topple over onto my side, smelling the damp loam of the forest floor. I call out again for Mia. No response. Damn dog.

I roll on to my back and shuffle backwards until my head hits a tree. Using it for support, I manage to sit up with my back against it. While falling, I held on to my handbag which still clings to my shoulder. There’s a phone in there. I find a whistle noise on the phone and play it several times, as loudly as I can, hoping to attract Mia’s attention. No sight or sound of her. Looking around, I can’t tell which direction I came from. The map app on my phone shows I could easily walk out of the forest, as long as I know which way is north. West to the sea, east to the road. But I don’t feel like wandering around. My knees hurt, and now I can feel a pain in my ribcage. I must have broken or bruised a rib in my fall. A small bout of nausea hits me, and I swallow hard.

Using the phone is hard. I’ve damaged my wrists in some way. Not only are my hands bloody and painful, I feel pain whenever I turn my wrists. I wipe the back of my hand against my brow, and it comes away bloody. When did I hit my head? Shock hits me hard. I am alone. Lost in the forest. Injured, perhaps seriously.

Suddenly all my other concerns fall away. Mia can find her way out without me. I have to call for help, now. I have friends in the area, but it will take them an hour or more to get to me. Maybe I will die out here after all. I pick up the phone and call 911.

It seems like ages before they answer. Another of the perks of rural life. Then I explain my story, tears starting to fall as I admit how scared I am. They are very patient, asking exactly where I parked. I know how to get to the parking area, but I don’t know what it’s called. Slowly they get me to tell them everything I know, then they have me use the map app to pinpoint the location for them. They promise me that help is on its way. Relieved, I sit back and close my eyes. Then I hear something approaching me through the woods. That must be my rescuers. But no, it’s an animal moving through the undergrowth. Oh my god. Is it a mountain lion or a wolf or even a bear? I don’t want to open my eyes and look. If I’m about to be mauled by a wild animal, what difference does it make what it looks like?

The noise gets closer, and my body tenses up. Then I hear a bark. I open my eyes, and Mia is running to me. Now I really cry, and hug her to me. I’m still lost in the forest, and still seriously hurt, but I have someone with me who loves me. The forest turns from threatening to beautiful in the blink of an eye.