But my sure thing drifted off-course once again, past an unfamiliar knoll and a cow camp which I did not remember. I doubled back to the last fork and tried the other side, but it ended suddenly at a watering hole, three miles in. I doubled back farther and tried another branch, but it too dead-ended. The sun was high. I had lost all sense of direction, and fuel was now extremely critical.
It was here that I fought a wave of panic, atop a rise which offered a blessed picture of peace. I can testify that I experienced both in the same awful moment, though there is no conceivable way to reconcile the two. The dimension of my error instantly multiplied beyond recovery.... beyond my ability to process it. How could I create such anguish when I was blessed with such freedom? How could my soulful devotion turn against me so suddenly? In that moment, everything I stood for ceased to hold value.... I had forfeited all trust, and I might be granted a wealth of silent agony in return. I don't recall uttering a word out loud. It was a quiet convulsion.... ascending waves which threatened to breach all containment.
I retreated to my campsite. I'm not sure how long I sat there.... only that I tried to breathe in the horizon, in a faint hope that it might yet sustain me. I scoured the map and tried a hundred possible theories-- all inconclusive. I had little to go on.... only those same two distant peaks I recognized earlier. But I had no way to accurately gauge the distance to either one. All I had left was to attempt some type of crude triangulation. I remembered where the sun rose.... nearly due east in late summer. When I triangulated east with my two peaks, I realized I was in the area I sought, though probably several miles off-course. But the highway had to be somewhere not far beyond the nearest cluster of low hills, due south. I could pack food and water and hike along the ridgeline until I caught sight of it and hope that I might glimpse a parallel exit trail. I hoped I was up to such an uncertain challenge.
But how could I place faith in my own judgment, given recent events? What if I hiked for twenty miles and came up empty? I could not afford such self-doubt.... not now, when my survival depended on my best attempt at reasoned, or gut-level action. I recognized my mind as potentially one of my most formidable enemies....
It was at that point when I spotted a dust plume advancing slowly toward me over the scrub, from side to side. I hadn't seen another
human since I left pavement.... until now. Under any other circumstance, I might be vexed by this sight, but times had changed. A gleaming, white Ford pickup came into view, and I cautiously approached. The driver wore a Harley cap and a healthy look of suspicion.... but he was headed toward the highway. I had my reprieve.... He led me onto a trail which hooked east and then south, eventually merging with pavement next to a "Welcome to Nevada" sign. I rolled into the nearest gas station, some forty miles down the road, with the needle buried below "E"....
It's hard to say for sure if I would have made it out on my own. The highway was farther off than I guessed. It would have taken a prodigious hike, and it is anything but clear if I could have spotted the exit trail, which ran through the valley parallel to my proposed hill-cluster hike.... When it was over, I set about burying the knowledge that I had almost blown everything.... But there will never be a way to bury that horrible sensation of being lost.... that silent terror.
Lost.... (ending)
more unheimlich than dépaysement in the end.
I felt the mix of being lost and terror two times: when I had to do the planos of Villa La Lagunita for the last censo (a grey afternoon that suddenly seemed to turn to near-night) and when I get lost in the traditional Salta market at night, I had no money and I didn´t remember the address or the way to return to the hotel.
I felt the mix of being lost and terror two times: when I had to do the planos of Villa La Lagunita for the last censo (a grey afternoon that suddenly seemed to turn to near-night) and when I get lost in the traditional Salta market at night, I had no money and I didn´t remember the address or the way to return to the hotel.
-
hester_prynne
Thanx Arcadia, Hester, and Cec...
Oh, there will be a book some day....
Will it see the light of day?.... doubtful....
This was a hard one to write. It's a little painful to try and relive
such a near disaster, when every sane instinct wants to bury it....
I think I got fairly close to the sensation, though.
Thanx again.
Oh, there will be a book some day....
Will it see the light of day?.... doubtful....
This was a hard one to write. It's a little painful to try and relive
such a near disaster, when every sane instinct wants to bury it....
I think I got fairly close to the sensation, though.
Thanx again.
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests