Wandering the Mountains Part III - The Limits of My Endurance

2009-09-28: Darkness came quickly in the mountains. The road became rougher as I traversed it, and I was constantly stepping into massive potholes full of cold rainwater. I found myself adapting an unusual state of mind. I was never afraid, but I did anticipate all situations which I could reasonably expect to encounter. I considered what I would do if I did get too tired to go any further. I considered what I would do if I encountered hostile animals. I considered what I would do if I saw distant lights or other signs of settlement. And having done all of this, I knew there was only one thing to do meanwhile: keep walking. My legs were hurting in ways I had never known before. Sometimes my stick had to make up for a leg. Sometimes I had to stop and sit or squat just to relieve the pain.

The night was still very quiet. Occasionally something would rustle the undergrowth and I would whirl around to face whatever might be present, stick brandished in one hand, the other shooting for my knife. I stress that I was not afraid, but ready. I was more ready than I had ever been. I had not seen any animals after hearing these sounds, so I just kept moving.

At some point, to my left was a steep and wooded slope, and to my right was a steep slope down to the river. I was walking along as I had been for hours, and then suddenly, I heard something come crashing down the slope, above and to my left. I thought, "This is really it! I am ready! I will fight!". I held my walking stick like a spear and prepared to fight with everything I had. Adrenaline surged throughout my body and a fierce rage welled up in my very core. I instinctively bellowed a mighty roar and anticipated what was to come. And then, a massive buck leaped down onto the road, and, silhouetted against the moon, bounded down the slope to my right. I held my "spear" in place for a second, shocked from the rush of emotion and the sudden dissipation of the assumed danger. My mind and body shuddered from the violent shift and I was unsure of what exactly I should do. Then I simply put my stick back in place, and continued as before. I noticed a light across a wide valley. It was too far and difficult to get to, but it gave me hope. I knew I was traveling in the wrong direction, but I knew I could be confident that I would come across something eventually.

My legs burned as I finally saw the most joyous of sights: a house with its lights on. I wasted no time moving down the road and onto a ridge above the house. I shouted but got no response. I could have tried to climb down to the back yard, but the way looked difficult, especially in the dark. Furthermore, I was in rural Virginia and I did not need to take that kind of risk. Fortunately, the road ran down to the driveway of the house, where I took the opportunity to kneel down. After calming down from the excitement and catching my breath, I began to shout for help. "Help!", I cried. "I'm lost!" The resident dogs began to bark furiously and finally the front porch light came on. I shouted once again, pleading for help. Then the door opened and I heard the response, "whoever you are, just get on out of here!". "No, no, no!", I thought. I could go no further. "Please! I need help! I am lost!", I shouted. There was a pause, then the reply. "Oh, I thought you were a bear. Let me get the dogs and you can come on up!". I smiled widely and limped to the front door. The stick feel from my feeble hands and I might have had tears in my eyes had I not been so exhausted. The door opened and a woman of friendly demeanor and her young daughter welcomed me inside. I began to explain what had happened and she had me sit down as I chugged vast amounts of water. She offered me some steamed broccoli, which was exactly the kind of thing I needed. Once I had stopped moving, I could barely walk. In the light I noticed I was covered in mud, blood, leaves, and anything else I might have picked up along the way. She called the sheriff to help me out. We chatted and I learned that people routinely became lost in the area. It had become so much of a problem that helicopters with infrared cameras had been made available to rescue lost people.

Eventually the sheriff arrived and I thanked this kind and generous woman profusely. I hurled my stick into the woods, glad that it was about to be over, and climbed into the police car. Unfortunately, the police were short-staffed and I could not be immediately taken back to where I had parked. There was no taxi service or the like in the area, so I had only once choice. I had to wait for one of the officers to finish their shift, and then I could ask for a ride. I went to the Madison County police station and found a seat in the lobby, in an incredibly uncomfortable chair. I peeled off my boots and put my feet on another chair, though the pain was still incredible. That was where I stayed for the next 6 hours. Eventually the need to sleep overtook the pain in my legs, and I slept on and off until one of the officers finally offered to take me back to my car, provided I could offer some money for fuel. The ride back felt like a dream. Finally we came to the lot where I had parked. The temperature was now close to freezing, though dawn was coming. I paid the officer and drove to the nearest campground, just up the road, to take a shower. Though the outside air was frigid, the shower was warm and I wanted nothing more at that moment. Then I climbed into the back of my Jeep and went to sleep with no concern for when I would wake.

I realized that I had hiked something like 8 or 9 hours. I would later find that I had covered roughly 15 miles of difficult terrain with no breaks. But I did it, all on my own, and not once did I lose my nerve.

I have tried to discover exactly where I had walked. After much research, I have put together a rough illustration of the path I believe I had taken.