Darkness Descending

            CONTINUATION FROM PREVIOUS WEEK

            Once my gasps for air turned into semi-normal breathing, I looked up and took in my surroundings. I stood at the edge of a large meadow full of low-lying shrubs and thick grass. All around the perimeter were the yellowing leaves and white bark of aspen trees. If it weren’t for the dark clouds moving in and my recent run-in with a bunch of all-seeing, shrieking aspens, the scenery would have been somewhat idyllic.

            When I had started my hike earlier in the day, I had followed a well-marked trail for a few hundred yards until I came across a small, inconspicuous path – most likely used by deer – and followed it. Eventually the path disintegrated into the vegetation and I blazed my own way through the forest. I had a compass and the sun at my disposal, and I wasn’t afraid of getting lost then.

            Now I had no idea where I was, the sun had all but disappeared, and my compass was obsolete because, at this point, I truly didn’t know if my vehicle was east, west, north or south of me. I couldn’t even see any trails leading in or out of the meadow that might have given me some sort of hope. No one knew where I was; I had decided to enjoy the beautiful fall day on my own. My cell phone was back in my car. My backpack only had a few odds and ends: small first aid kit, penknife, bottle of water, and crackers. No light source at all…and the daylight was fading fast.

            My best bet was to head downhill. Thanks to my compass, I at least knew that the Heber Valley had to sit almost due east of my location. The only thing between it and me was a few miles of mountain and a few man-eating beasts.

            Traveling in the twilight without a flashlight or lantern is always an eerie experience. I have an overactive imagination and the descending darkness wasn’t calming it down any. After crossing the meadow I had to face another grove of sinister-looking aspen trees. All I could do was tell myself that my previous encounter with the howling trees was completely in my head.

            The wind was steadily blowing down the canyon I was navigating through. The constant rustle of leaves overhead was slightly unnerving and it was all I could do to keep from imagining skeletons or ghosts creeping up from behind me. The white trunks and branches of the aspens certainly weren’t helping. They created a series of creepy, silent sentinels in the last little bit of light. I could feel their eyes on me.

            After an hour of traveling downward and restraining the panic and terror within me, I hadn’t crossed any paths or seen any lights. The sun had surely set, as it was now extremely dark. Luckily my night vision is pretty good and I had finally found an almost imperceptible path leading through the trees. I had a feeling I would reach a bigger trail and maybe even a roadway soon.

            The noise of the wind was joined by the sound of water up ahead. I had to be close to a stream. For some reason the thought of a stream calmed me down. As I neared the flowing water, the aspens thinned out and the ground became covered in thick bushes that were hard to push through. Right before I reached the small stream I stopped short. On the other side of the water, in the midst of more thick bushes, there was a shape rising out of the vegetation. At first I was startled, thinking it was an animal. I stretched my arm back to grab my penknife out of my backpack, but sheer terror quickly halted all of my movement when I realized what was on the other side of the river. My penknife would do nothing against the horror I had just stumbled upon.

            Moral of this part of the story: Sometimes it is impossible to be prepared. Especially for the unlikeliest of circumstances.

            TO BE CONTINUED…