Once upon a time, I decided to go way out into the wilderness on a solo mountain bike ride. I had memorized the map and felt prepared. But when the moment came, I opted to take nothing with me but a water bottle and some minimal tools. No phone, no physical map, nothing. And the water bottle was so small. It was a hot summer day. I exert…
Once upon a time, I decided to go way out into the wilderness on a solo mountain bike ride. I had memorized the map and felt prepared. But when the moment came, I opted to take nothing with me but a water bottle and some minimal tools. No phone, no physical map, nothing. And the water bottle was so small. It was a hot summer day. I exerted myself a lot on the uphill climb, and then there were several downhill scrambles that would have been too challenging to climb back up let alone ride. That was the point when I realized that nobody was around anymore. I was well past the hikers I had seen, and I even bushwhacked a bit as I rode. Still, I pressed on, certain that the full trail length in one big loop would be better than going back the way I had come.
I ran out of water about two hours in, and I was being very conservative. With the heat and losing some tree cover, I was sweating way more than I was drinking. Then I found my way to the edge of the trail overlooking a sandy precipice above the river I knew I would need to cross. There should have been a log bridge, but it was nowhere to be found. I walked up and down that eroded bank for a long time looking for a way across. After intense deliberation, I slid down the bank with my bike in hand and forded the river on foot. It was cool and refreshing, but I didn’t dare drink for fear of giardia or worse. Thankfully the water was only up to my thigh or I might have risked getting carried off, too. On the other side I quickly found the dirt road to lead back to my car.
But after climbing uphill for a long distance I came to a T intersection and immediately knew it had not been on that map I memorized. I panicked. I rode left, praying it was the right decision. I started hallucinating. I was cramping badly from dehydration, and my brain was playing tricks on me. Desperate for water I partly filled my empty bottle from a roadside trickle, expecting the worst if I lived to tell about it. I lost my grip on which way I’d come from and where I should go. Nothing made sense. I was shaking and in full body pain. I started making a plan for staying in the wilderness that night if I couldn’t find the main road in time.
About an hour later a car rolled by along that dusty road. I flagged them down, and two very kind women greeted me. I explained that I was lost, and they immediately opened the trunk of the car for my bike and handed me an ice-cold can of Coke to drink in the backseat as they drove me a mile down the road to the parking lot where my car was waiting. Those wonderful people saved my life, and they did it out of the kindness in their hearts. They were literally the only other car in that entire part of the forest that day, and they had ended up on that road as a mistake. I’m alive today because of their kindness and generosity.
Once upon a time, I decided to go way out into the wilderness on a solo mountain bike ride. I had memorized the map and felt prepared. But when the moment came, I opted to take nothing with me but a water bottle and some minimal tools. No phone, no physical map, nothing. And the water bottle was so small. It was a hot summer day. I exerted myself a lot on the uphill climb, and then there were several downhill scrambles that would have been too challenging to climb back up let alone ride. That was the point when I realized that nobody was around anymore. I was well past the hikers I had seen, and I even bushwhacked a bit as I rode. Still, I pressed on, certain that the full trail length in one big loop would be better than going back the way I had come.
I ran out of water about two hours in, and I was being very conservative. With the heat and losing some tree cover, I was sweating way more than I was drinking. Then I found my way to the edge of the trail overlooking a sandy precipice above the river I knew I would need to cross. There should have been a log bridge, but it was nowhere to be found. I walked up and down that eroded bank for a long time looking for a way across. After intense deliberation, I slid down the bank with my bike in hand and forded the river on foot. It was cool and refreshing, but I didn’t dare drink for fear of giardia or worse. Thankfully the water was only up to my thigh or I might have risked getting carried off, too. On the other side I quickly found the dirt road to lead back to my car.
But after climbing uphill for a long distance I came to a T intersection and immediately knew it had not been on that map I memorized. I panicked. I rode left, praying it was the right decision. I started hallucinating. I was cramping badly from dehydration, and my brain was playing tricks on me. Desperate for water I partly filled my empty bottle from a roadside trickle, expecting the worst if I lived to tell about it. I lost my grip on which way I’d come from and where I should go. Nothing made sense. I was shaking and in full body pain. I started making a plan for staying in the wilderness that night if I couldn’t find the main road in time.
About an hour later a car rolled by along that dusty road. I flagged them down, and two very kind women greeted me. I explained that I was lost, and they immediately opened the trunk of the car for my bike and handed me an ice-cold can of Coke to drink in the backseat as they drove me a mile down the road to the parking lot where my car was waiting. Those wonderful people saved my life, and they did it out of the kindness in their hearts. They were literally the only other car in that entire part of the forest that day, and they had ended up on that road as a mistake. I’m alive today because of their kindness and generosity.