Dark Means Night

Dark Means Night

     If you want to see how many shades of green exist in nature, come to Washington State and look in any direction. We have it in green, greener, and even greener. It's a color we know well.

     And not just in landscaped yards and parks; we have it in actual forests. But once you've seen lush backdrops enough times it's easy to forget to notice them at all. The challenge for locals is to remember to look, and look up close, if possible.

     But don't do it the way I did. I reconnected with nature by getting lost in the woods in the morning and still being lost when night fell and all that green turned to black.

     I'd taken a job in Bellingham, a small, townlike city halfway between Seattle and the Canadian border. The facility was located at the top of a long unpaved road and the building itself was surrounded by five acres of dense woodland. After my interview, I watched in wonder as a group of deer ambled across the parking lot, paused to glance at me, and then continued on their way.

     On my first day, when I commented about this to a coworker, he answered, "Oh yeah, the deer...'course there are cougar and bear out here in these woods too, but they stay further in." I was told feeding the deer was strictly prohibited because the boss feared doing so would disrupt the habits of the wildlife.

     People from the Pacific Northwest will nod their heads as they read that, but for those of you who live elsewhere and might be confused, let me just say (kind of proudly), in my home state, we Get It about nature: we're lucky it's here, if we mess it up, it'll be gone. I made a mental note those friendly deer would get no half eaten apples from me.

     After I'd worked there awhile I decided I'd try that path I kept hearing about: the easy 25 minute shortcut through the woods to a side road and the local convenience store. The coworkers who recommended the path had never taken it themselves but assured me how easy it was.

     That's how I ended up walking into the woods on my day off at 9am, a warm day, hot enough for shorts and a t-shirt. I hadn't told anyone where I was going and no one expected me to be anywhere until the next day.

     Such a simple pleasure. In fact, I deliberately left my phone in my car so I wouldn't be disturbed and took with me only my car keys in one pocket and two five dollar bills in the other.

     Now you might think of Getting Lost In The Woods as a single event, like going to the mall or ordering a pizza. Actually, getting lost is a thing made up of stages. I noticed this as it was happening and tried to find it amusing because it was either that or panic.

     The path was there, at first. A neatly cleared dirt path, maybe four feet across. After about 50 feet I did notice the path narrowed a little, but I kept walking. I didn't keep my eye on the path because I was noticing all that green.

     And then I felt tall grasses tickling my ankles and when I looked down, I didn't see the dirt path. It was only green forest floor. There was no sign a path had ever been there. I spun around and saw no path behind me.

     It's not like I'm LOST, I told myself. Lost was a whole different thing than what this was. This was just like misplacing something. I must have gotten a few feet away from the path. It'd be easy to find it again.

     I tried to retrace my steps and noticed the trees and ferns and fallen logs that had each looked so unique on the way into the woods now all looked identical. I wasn't sure how long I'd walked or how far I'd come.

     Okay, I'm lost, I admitted. Amusingly, I think my mind expected some cosmic reward for this honesty because I felt disappointed when, a few seconds later, I continued to be just as lost as I was before.

     I kept walking. And now my mind wasn't being amused. Now it was presenting a clear summary of the situation. No warm clothing. No food. No water. No one knows I'm here. No one will miss me for 24 hours and even then, no one will think to look for me out here.

     I reminded myself these woods were only five acres, not 20 miles, but then realized that would make no difference if I never found my way out. Then I reminded myself I was a nature girl. To avoid a possible lawsuit, let me just say as a youth I participated in a 'scouting' organization for 'girls'. Remembering this gave me confidence but it was brief. I realized the only things I'd learned were how to sing Taps and how to sell cookies.

     How was that possible? I searched my mind for anything else we might have learned. How to make s'mores. Ghost stories. Pour sand on your fire. Shrieking games of Red Rover. How to make candles out of our mother's old lipsticks.

     As far as I could remember, we never covered things like how to identify poison ivy. I was familiar with that plant now. As proof, both of my arms and legs were covered in angry burning welts. Mosquitos found me and bit me at will. Branches got in the way, were brushed aside, and left bright red scratches. The more times this happened, the less I felt them. I kept walking.

     Then something happened. The light began to change. Like it was nearing dusk (Day is done, gone the sun). Which couldn't be right because I'd entered these woods at 9am and this was midsummer. Dusk would mean around 9pm. It would mean I'd been walking around lost for 12 hours. And that I hadn't noticed 12 hours had gone by.

     Apparently I'd gotten that much from my scouting days: light means day and dark means night. I cursed that scouting program. I cursed cookies. Then at the thought of cookies I realized I was ravenously hungry and wished that I had some. And then it started getting dark and I panicked, trying to guess how many minutes I had of daylight left. I began to hear branches snapping from forest things waking up, things that slept in the daytime. Raccoons, cougars, bears--I was in their home. That wildlife that needed protecting, good one: where I was, it ran the show.
     I considered where I could sleep. I could climb a tree. And sleep on a branch? And fall and crack my head open? No. I was no longer walking straight or thinking straight. Branches? My mind piped up: squirrels owls claws beaks! With cougars you were supposed to make yourself tall and loud and with bears you were supposed to lie down. Either that or the reverse. Besides, couldn't cougars and bears both climb trees? I couldn't remember, or maybe had never known.
     And then something great happened. I saw one small electric light shining far in the distance. A tiny dot of light that meant people, or that at least didn't mean forest. I walked carefully, hands stretched out to block unseen branches, and aimed for that light. And that was all I thought about for a long time. The careful walking. That one light.
     And then, some time later, I was standing on pavement.
     A road. Which road, I had no clue and didn't care. And 30 minutes later I found my way back to the facility and walked in and headed for the nurse's station. The clock on the wall read 11:20pm. I had leaves in my hair and was covered in scratches, welts, and bites. I was filthy. I was exhausted.
     And about all that beautiful green? I was wiser.

--From Green Shoes Mean I Love You, available at www.amieryan.com