Tomorrow, I'm doing a few miles along the Colorado Trail, west from the FS-560 trailhead to the point where it intersects with the branch of the Brooks-McCurdy Trail that leads to Lost Park Campground, about 9 miles. I've got (three) maps and my compass, I've walked myself step-by-step through my day to make sure I have everything packed that I'll need, and it's a really well-worn popular trail so it's not like I'm bushwacking in the wilderness - but to be completely honest, I'm terrified.
I haven't done a lot of backpacking lately (in fact, none at all this year, I think), and publicly I'll say that it's because between work and school, I have no time to disappear for even a quick overnight, but I have to admit, I never got over the experience of losing my way when I attempted a portion of the CT last year. I lost the trail and had to turn back; luckily I was near a popular campground in a familiar area and managed to hitch my way back home after only a few miles of road-walking, but it was completely humiliating and shook my confidence to the core.
There's a Daniel Boone quote that goes, "I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks." But still, what if I hadn't been in such a convenient position, where I was a short walk from other humans, where I had ample water, where I knew where I was on the map, even if I didn't know where to go next? What if I was really and truly lost? I could've wandered out there until I died. After I got home, my dad told me a story about how he got lost hiking once - really lost, not just confused - and how it turned him off hiking for the rest of his life; he said that he didn't want that to happen to me, and I don't want it to either, but I don't know how to get rid of this knot of fear in my stomach.
Except by getting back on the horse.
I haven't done a lot of backpacking lately (in fact, none at all this year, I think), and publicly I'll say that it's because between work and school, I have no time to disappear for even a quick overnight, but I have to admit, I never got over the experience of losing my way when I attempted a portion of the CT last year. I lost the trail and had to turn back; luckily I was near a popular campground in a familiar area and managed to hitch my way back home after only a few miles of road-walking, but it was completely humiliating and shook my confidence to the core.
There's a Daniel Boone quote that goes, "I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks." But still, what if I hadn't been in such a convenient position, where I was a short walk from other humans, where I had ample water, where I knew where I was on the map, even if I didn't know where to go next? What if I was really and truly lost? I could've wandered out there until I died. After I got home, my dad told me a story about how he got lost hiking once - really lost, not just confused - and how it turned him off hiking for the rest of his life; he said that he didn't want that to happen to me, and I don't want it to either, but I don't know how to get rid of this knot of fear in my stomach.
Except by getting back on the horse.
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