THE FAILED HIKE

The second day on the farm, Sharon told me about a nearby hike that I should try. Despite a semi-creepy name (The Panther’s Den), it sounded fun. I got a little apprehensive when she pulled out a topographical map and pointed out which squiggly lines I should hike to, and even more nervous when she handed me a compass to help me get there. But: you can’t not have an adventure if you need a compass to get where you’re going!

Back in the matrix, I drove slowly along the country roads looking for the entrance to the hike. I actually drove past the little dirt road the first time, because the road sign was overgrown. Down the dirt road, turned onto a smaller, rockier dirt road, until I came to a downed tree in the middle. Bah! I got out to survey the situation and was immediately swarmed with all manner of bugs. I had to scramble for my Off! and gave myself a pretty generous dosing (who knows what those chemicals do long term? I might develop a third eye on my neck by the end of this buggy adventure). My battle of even budging the tree an inch was lost miserably. I managed to break off a few twigs but definitely battled for the right-of-way in vain. At this point I re-evaluated the distance from the ditch on the side of the road and squeeked the matrix around it. I found the forlorn, empty “parking lot” Sharon had spoke of, and looked for the unmarked trailhead she recommended, but could feel the panic rising being so far away from anywhere, down random, tree-blocked dirt roads in the middle of a southern Illinois forest. There was a sign near one of the trail heads, so as a compromise between being a brave trail-blazer and a brave trail-follower, I set off down that one.

As I tromped off down the trail, I made sure I had my compass, my map, water, a granola bar, my camera, my pocket knife, and my cell phone (though I had no reception, so moot point) at the ready. Sharon had briefed me on wildlife in the area, which included three kinds of poisonous snakes: rattlesnakes, copperheads, and cottonmouths (oh my!). I developed a weird sort of stompy-walk to scare away anything before I got there. I also walked into about 15 spiderwebs before I picked up a stick and started swirling the air in front of me to clear them before my face did. Now I was stompy-walking and stick-swirling and I’m sure I looked beyond ridiculous. In addition to my fears of deadly snakes, spiders on my face, mosquito-borne diseases (did I mention the constant hum of skeeters hoovering around me, just waiting for me to sweat off my off?), I also started fearing an encounter with a trucker-cap wearing, three-toothed, malt liquor-swigging, bowie-knife wielding local after seeing an abandoned campfire spot littered with beer cans. As each fear came to me I told myself to buck up and keep going, but at a certain point (yeah...um...15 minutes in? I didn’t last long!) I gave up, turned around, and practically ran back to my car. (Oh, and ran into all the spiderwebs AGAIN on the way back, those suckers waste no time in rebuilding!) (see top photo, I snapped a quick pic before I turned tail...)

This makes for a tidy, dramatic ending of my hike story, but I can’t leave out the following two events: First, I actually did see a snake crossing the dirt road in front of me (eeeeeew but cool but eeeeew--and it was just a black snake, no rattles or cotton or copper). Secondly, I helped a little old turtle cross the road. Good deed for the day: done.