As I clocked out from work at noon I felt an immeasurable sense of relief. No big decisions, problems or thinking about the “issue” until next wednesday. I had taken some personal time off from work to disappear into nature. I planned to hike an old trail that I had discovered in an old book about strange and interesting folk legends, of all things. Normal people would have googled some popular hiking trails but I felt the need to go somewhere less traveled. A quick online check later and I had confirmed the path still existed and I had grown quite excited about the prospect of stepping where the people of old had stepped before.
A trip alone into nature would also be good for me. Work had been very busy for the past few months leading to near burnout. There had also been an incident recently where the higher ups, my bosses, had started to pressure me to do some off the record work to our software which went against my ethical values.
But enough about that.
I’d packed my car the day before with various travel items such as a lightweight tent, a camping stove, food for four days, instant coffee, a couple of water bottles with filters, a small shovel, etc. All the things I would need for my trip but nothing extra (Apart from, perhaps, the coffee, but I’m only human). I wanted to be isolated from civilization so I did not even bring my cellphone or even my wrist watch, only a map of the trail I had printed from an online map service on cheap office paper.
The only concessions towards modernity was a small music player, and a battery bank. I even brought a scratched old compass I found at an estate sale which seemed to work well enough.
Driving there was a bit of an adventure all by itself. It took three hours for me to arrive roughly at the location of the old farmers tractor trail from which I would start the hike, but finding it was tricky as it was overgrown and the turn off the main highway was difficult to spot. It was obviously not a well traveled road by any means.
As I parked on the gravely bit of road it felt strange to think that even if I disappeared for a few weeks my car would probably be very hard to find in this remote bit of road. If I abandoned the car how many weeks or months would pass until some random traveler happened upon it? Not that it was likely since I had arranged with a friend to pick me up at the trail’s end and drive me back to my car. I did not expect anything to happen to it in the meantime.
I put on my hiking gear, the backpack felt heavy, but comforting, on my back, switched from my regular shoes into nice new hiking shoes and set off.
I was lucky with the weather the first day. The sun was out and it was only partly cloudy. I felt warm and happy as I started my hike. The trail itself was overgrown and had obviously not been frequented for many years but I found that it was easy to navigate and did not encounter anything blocking the path. At the third hour I encountered a new friend, a whimbrel! They are small brown birds with a long beak known to be a bit skittish but I stopped when I heard its piping call nearby. I crept towards it and saw it picking at the ground. As I neared it I saw that it obviously knew I was there but it did not run away. I wished I had my phone to take a picture but in its absence I merely enjoyed the experience. I nearly got close enough to pet the bird when it decided I did something offensive, piped once and then flew off. At that moment I knew that this would be a good hike.
At what felt as around seven o’clock after a few hours of walking I realized I was in a very cozy place. The sun shone down upon the green grass and flowers with a small tree-line to the left of me and a clearing to the right. I stood still for a little while with my eyes closed, just listening to the natural sounds of wind blowing through grass, some kind of bird in the distance, a couple of bees nearby. I stood, just experiencing the moment, feeling the warm sun on my skin. It was nice. But it was getting pretty late and I was tired so I decided to find a place to pitch my tent.
As I stepped a few steps off the trail I saw that the people of the past had thought the same at this point as I saw obvious signs of a small ruined house. All that remained of it was a square row of stones which I assume were the foundations of a house that had once stood there. Maybe there was a farm here? Or maybe this was just a regular spot to camp so they raised some more permanent shelter here. Fascinating, I would have to look further into this when I get back home.
The row of stones was tall enough to provide some shelter against whatever winds might make their presence known during the night so I opted to camp in the ruin. I managed to get enough dead and dry shrubs together to get a small campfire going. The smell of cooked sausages and the wood burning made me wish I had a guitar. I would have sung some campfire songs to match the atmosphere of the place.
As darkness descended I saw that I was not alone. Sitting on the house foundation stones was a stranger. He sat there, just far enough from the fire to suggest a person, but not giving away any details. It struck me that I did not mind that he, or she, was there. I thought that logically I should be concerned, here I was in the middle of nowhere and a random somebody had approached me as darkness fell. But still, I felt nothing but peace. I decided to just sit there in silence, eating some raisins I had brought along as a treat, waiting for whether or not the person would say something.
After what felt like an hour the person asked me, in a gravelly voice, if I was enjoying my trip?
“I’m enjoying myself. It is nice to get out of civilization”. Why did I just answer his question? I should ask him his name.
“What’s your name, stranger?”
He ignored the question, sitting there in silence. I saw he was eating something, perhaps jerky. It was getting too dark to see clearly.
Why did you stop here?
“I was tired after a day of walking. It seemed like a nice place to camp.”
It was nice, indeed, the stranger said. It was quite popular in its day when the season demanded that farmhands traveled between job sites.
“Oh, how do you know?”
Are you going to betray them?
At this I decided to take a better look at the stranger so I took a step towards him, but he was no longer there. Instead I saw a small tree, its leaves forming his body and what I thought was his head. His movements while eating jerky was merely the movement of the branches as the light wind blew through, shadows on the rocks where his feet had been.
Was he ever there? Did I imagine the encounter? Perhaps. I was tired after all and overstimulated after a busy workday. I probably was overwhelmed with the silence, darkness and my current feeling of being very very alone which might have caused my imagination to work overtime.
Betray them? How the hell would this complete stranger know? I had escaped to nature so I would not have to make one of the most conflicting decisions of my life. My job, in civilization, was as a software developer. I was charged with creating financial software and I was good at it. I had been approached by my bosses to use my access to the code, and their contacts, to divert some of the money being channeled through our software to a secret account. In return I’d get a big cut of the proceeds. I know, I know. It sounds like the plot from a relatively famous movie, but life imitates art. Perhaps that’s where they’d gotten the idea.
Now I do have a real, pressing, need for this money. There was real monetary need in my family due to outstanding medical bills. However, the money did not belong to me. It came from some pension funds, and the transfers that we would be leeching off were being done by brokers. So I had a choice to make. Would I make the selfish choice and take it to help myself and my family, or would I do the ethical thing and refuse to take part in the scheme, perhaps even reporting the instigators. This decision weighed heavily upon my soul, which was one of the big reasons for the trip. To either make the decision during it, or perhaps to ignore it for a while.
After a while I could hear some raindrops hit my tent and I became quite aware of how tired I had become. So I put in my earbuds and let the rain and the music of the Beatles carry me off to sleep.
Saturday
As I awoke early in the morning. I instinctively tried to check my watch, but found my wrist empty. “Oh yeah, right”. I felt there was a kind of freedom not to be beholden to the ticking mechanical march of time. I unzipped the tent and saw that a small rainfall had created a thin film of moisture on everything outside my tent. The damp smell of charcoal filled the small area surrounded by the old wall foundations where silence reigned. I was treated to a small rainbow illusion in the remaining mist. It was that small peaceful moment between daybreak, end of rain and before the birds would start chirping that calls to the soul.
I fetched a tin-cup from my backpack and heated up a warm cup of instant coffee and sat there, simply enjoying the moment. It is rare to be so utterly alone and at peace in the city. Why do I live in the city? I could probably work remotely. The smell of the small pine trees and the shrubs surrounding me was intoxicating.
Giving my gear a little while to dry before I started packing, clearing out every single sign of my presence in the area according to the hikers motto “Leave no trace”. After this small hiking ritual was complete I returned to the old path and continued my journey.
The path was meandering, which surprised me as the google image research I had done had indicated that it was straight as an arrow. But technology is not infallible, and I imagined that the semi-low res image might not have been entirely accurate, so it did not worry me too much. It was no more than a dirt path at this point. Back in the day it would have been wider, and more clear of debris, but time has taken its toll. Occasionally the path would abruptly end but if I continued straight I always found the continuation a bit further ahead. I was enjoying this little game of “find the path” and had my eyes firmly set on it when I nearly walked off a cliff.
The path had turned a small distance behind me, but I had not noticed, instead I had walked onwards heedless that I had been going up a small incline for a while. The ravine that greeted me was wide, dark and hungry. It looked for all the world as if the ground had split open like an open wound. It was, of course, due to continental drift, or perhaps some volcanic activity had created it. It matters not however since if I had fallen into it the end would have been the same. I shuddered imagining my broken body at the bottom of the ravine. I would probably never be found this far away from the nearest road in some random opening in the ground. It was a sobering thought, I would need to tread more carefully.
Sitting down and looking at the view before me was worth it. The vast expanse of hills and valleys stretched out before me, devoid of any signs of civilization except for the few steps I had made in the dirt. It was a beautiful vista. I calmed myself down, ate a cookie to cheer myself up, and then returned to the path. In the distance a whimbrel called out for a mate, or perhaps as a warning of the intruder, me, in this beautiful landscape.
The experience of nearly falling to my death put a damper on my mood for the day. I navigated the path more carefully now and was very conscious of any elevation changes. At one point I heard the sound of running water nearby and found a welcome source to refill my near empty water bottles. The stream was small and very clear. It would have been nearly invisible to my eyes except for the glint of sunlight reflecting off it.
I made good progress that day. I roughly estimated according to the map that I had traveled perhaps around 25 kilometers. I did find the map was quite inaccurate however. I was annoyed at myself for not having done more thorough research before setting off, but since I was here I did my best with what I had. If I kept up my progress I should arrive at my rendezvous point on time. I might even have time to check out a curiosity I had spotted on google maps, a small pond that was slightly off the path. I would arrive there tomorrow.
The rest of the hike was pleasant. The sky was clear, the smell of local flowers, pine needles and the soil was reassuring and the local fly population was having a field day, buzzing around me. I tried remembering the story which had made me interested in this hike but I just couldn’t. Was it the one about the ghost with the golden cane? Was it the one about the cave monster? Perhaps it was the one about the crossroad elves eating unwary travelers? My memory would not relent. I decided that when I got back home I’d do more research into forgotten paths and trails, I would perhaps start my own blog, or even a vlog! It would be a nice hobby, I thought.
I ended my hiking that day at an interesting rubble of rocks. There was an unwritten rule with the locals that when they encountered one of those, in the loosest sense, structures you would place another rock on top of it thus allowing it to persist for a while longer against weather and wind. They called them ‘Vordur’ or ‘Vardor’. The language was not my strong suit, but they are meant to help guide travelers along certain paths. In the past these would be everywhere. From one rockpile you could see another some distance away and thus know you were on the correct heading. A clever and quite low tech idea. The one I had arrived at was a reassuring sight since it indicated I was still on the path and had not wandered off into the wilderness. It had survived the ravages of time but only barely. It was apparent nobody had maintained this one for a long time and barely resembled this.. Waymarker I suppose? So I placed my rock offering on top of the waymarker and started pitching my tent nearby. The ground was sandy and rocky, but I managed to find a spot where they were less jagged and covered in moss.
It took a little while but I managed, with some digging and stacking rocks, to create a small campfire. It felt decidedly less comfortable than last night, mostly since with much less protection from the elements I felt very much exposed, not that there were many people around to notice me in any case. My dinner consisted of heated refried beans and a sandwich. I allowed myself a couple of cookies for dessert. For all my desire to be “old-school” on this trip by leaving my modern equipment at home I felt like a bit of a hypocrite as I sat munching on my factory-made cookies. I imagined that the travelers of old had to make do with much more basic supplies. Next time I would have to try out making my own trail rations, maybe even more authentic clothing.
I sat and let my imagination run wild, imagining the people of old setting up camp here. A hide tent here, a tent there. A fire is burning there. They’d probably be walking as I could not imagine, nor see signs of, horses traveling along it.
As the evening light faded away I sensed a presence at my small campsite.
Appreciate what you have, the stranger said.
The stranger was back. I saw him, half obscured by shadows. I realized I had half expected him to be back. This isolation combined with fatigue must be affecting me more than I thought. Is he real this time? Or a figment of my overactive imagination?
“What concern is that of yours?”
I have a passing interest.
“What specifically interests you?”
You.
At this I threw my empty bean can at him, but the can flew through where the stranger sat and hit some rock behind him. I knew what I would find but I stood up and looked anyway. All I saw were shadows, rocks and moonlight conspiring to form a humanoid shape to enable my inner paranoia.
Are you going to betray them?
The voice came from the other side of my campfire, from within my tent. The opening was obscured from my vantage point but I knew that if I’d come barging in the stranger would be gone once more.
“You’re just in my head, aren’t you?”
The stranger did not answer me. His silence felt… uncomfortable… to me. As if I sat in front of a stern boss who’s expecting an answer I do not know the answer enough to give.
“I do not know. A lot of people depend on me. I do not want to face the consequences of what I want to do.”
Silence. I strained to hear something, but apart from the flap of my tent, and some leaves rustling, in the breeze I could hear nothing. I could not hear any wildlife either, which struck me as a bit strange. Usually some critters started calling out after dark. But right now it was completely silent. I do not know why but it unnerved me enough that I sat there for a good ten minutes staring at the tent, daring it to invert itself and spill its contents out to the open.
Eventually the night chill and curiosity forced me to move towards the tent. I opened it up and looked inside. As I had half expected there was no monster within, no violent man with a knife ready to jump out. There was nothing apart from my sleeping bag, music player and my backpack. He had seemed so real.
I do not know at what time I fell asleep, since I had no clock. I am sure it was very late. I lay awake thinking of my family, my work and my bosses. I thought about the plan and the people that might suffer as a result. I imagined all kinds of consequences. But eventually I fell asleep, and I dreamt of nothing.
Sunday
The next morning was miserable.
I woke up in a foul mood, very much wishing that I had my trusty old coffee maker at hand so I’d not have to drink that cheap instant stuff. Dragging myself out of the tent I started cooking some bacon in an attempt to cheer myself up.
When I sat in my warm office dreaming of this trip I had taken a lot of things into account. I brought the appropriate clothes, food, a map, a compass. Everything I would need. But I forgot to account for one thing! Myself. I am a slightly out of shape office worker who’s not used to walking long distances. Now my feet hurt. My lower back ached slightly, my skin was raw, injured, and my calves pleaded for mercy. But I had had the foresight to bring a first aid kit so I tended to my wounds as I could to get myself into walking shape. I took some painkillers and decided to relax to give them time to work their magic.
I found that I had camped in a pretty open area on top of a small hill, which makes sense with the rockpile there. I had a view of a pretty large marsh, with some trees in the distance. On the other side of my, a short distance away, a larger hill rose from the landscape.
Some movement near the treeline caught my eye. Shielding my eyes from the morning sun I managed to make out a small fox. The foxes around here were not the classic red fox from children’s stories, these foxes were small and covered in black fur. They have thick hair and a full grown fox has a similar appearance to a mix between a puppy and a cat. The fox was moving across the swamp carrying a dead bird. Seems like more creatures around here are having breakfast than just me.
I packed my gear, cleaned up the campsite and continued my travels. I had gone some distance when I looked back. It might have been my imagination, or perhaps a trick of the light and the clouds in the background. But I could have sworn that for a moment I saw a man standing next to the waymarker. I stared for some time but I lost sight of him. He did not move out of the way, or anything like that. But for one minute he stood there, too distant to make out any details, and the next he was not there. “Stop this nonsense, there’s nothing there.” I told myself sharply. Indeed. There was nothing there.
Most of the day was enjoyable. I forgot all my worries and lost myself in the beauty of the landscape. There were yellow flowers everywhere, and lots of wildlife. I spotted more birds over the course of my day, and even a mink. Those are vicious little guys so I gave him a wide berth, but it was an exciting encounter. The smell of the flowers and the aroma of the soil amplified this sense of wildlife. So I had a smile on my face, and happy thoughts in my head, when I encountered a bridge.
There is a river? Here? I reached for my map and sure enough, a thin blue line on the map that was half obscured with other geographical symbols and shapes denoted a river. I was pretty pissed at again being confronted by an example of my lack of preparation for this trip. I scanned the rest of the map for more unexpected encounters but did not see any.
The river seemed pretty small. It was no raging torrent of water, but rather wide enough to cause a traveler to either have to swim across, or use the old bridge. Well, “bridge” might be a strong word. It was old, no doubt about that. The foundations of the bridge seemed to be made of stone, but the rest was made of large old wood planks. I had no way of knowing how old the bridge was, but it was more recent than the origin of the trail, that was for sure. Unless a bridge like this can survive for a couple of hundred years. I guessed that the path must have been used more recently than I had originally thought as the bridge, by my estimation, looked to be maybe fifty, sixty, years old?
I eyed the water, contemplating just swimming across, but decided against it. While the water looked calm and not overly deep I was not in the mood to get wet. So I investigated the bridge. It was not a reassuring sight either. The wood at close inspection was old and rotten. I doubted the planks could support my weight.
With a deep sigh I stripped my clothes and put them in a watertight bag I had brought along. The backpack itself was only water resistant but I thought I could carry it above my head across the river, or at least mostly out of the water. It was a bit too heavy to toss across.
I stepped into the water and was immediately quite aware of how utterly cold it was. With a shiver and hesitant steps I managed to immerse myself in the water, and was relieved to find the water only reached up to my shoulders. With a bit of time and care I could walk across the river without undue risk to my backpack.
As I was starting to ascend onto the other bank of the river I suddenly felt something touch my foot. I had not been expecting this so I got startled and jumped awkwardly in the water. I immediately cursed myself, it was a fish! Of course there are fish in rivers. But my heart sank as I now realized my hands were empty, my backpack now floating serenely down the river away from me. I got onto the riverbank as fast as I could and ran naked and awkward after the bag. I could tell the river narrowed a bit after a while, which increased its current, so I sprinted as hard as I could. I managed to jump in the river again after the backpack before it got too fast. I managed to scramble onto the riverbank and collapsed in the grass, just grateful that I would not have to spend two more days without any of my gear. Walking the rest of the hike would be a nightmare without such things as clothes.
For some time I lay there, in the sun, letting the warmth dry me off before fishing the clothes out of the bag. They were still dry and I think it was the best feeling of the trip feeling them against my skin after the watery river experience.
I was lucky that I ended up on the right side of the river by accident. I had not given it much thought as I was racing after my stuff, but I could easily have been on the wrong side and have to navigate the bridge vs river crossing debate again.
It took me an hour and a half to get going again. I had to walk well into the evening, only stopping to give myself a bit of time to camp before nighttime would make seeing impossible, so I could stay on schedule. I did not attempt to get a fire going again so I had to rely on my camping stove to make dinner. Tonight’s feast would be a “canned burger”. Yes.. a canned burger. I had seen a few video’s online where people would buy them and then review them. Most of them were quite juvenile making fun of the very idea itself but I saw potential. So I bought a few and brought two cans of the things with me. I created a small hole in the can and then put it on the stove. It ended up tasting quite disgusting. But it filled me up and for a moment I forgot how utterly alone I was. I was now two days away from the nearest human, in a natural landscape that at times seemed dangerous to travel in, with my mind creating figments of my imagination to keep me company at night.
I found myself sitting there, alone in the darkness, with only the music of John Coltrane to keep me company, expectantly waiting for the stranger to return. Even though he was only my imagination I could swear talking even to him made me forget that I had begun to feel quite lonely. But he did not appear.
“What are you waiting for?” I called out. More to hear myself than expecting a response. Noone was there to give me a reply. I was alone.
(Part 2 will be posted tomorrow)