Life After Forty

Aren’t people who end up lost during a hike really dumb?

When I read about an adult who manages to get lost on a day hike and is found wearing inadequate clothing, without water, emergency equipment or even a cell phone ~ I feel smugly self-righteous knowing I would never be such a nit wit. But if you have read this site you know that in my experience arrogance is always rewarded with a humbling of some sort. You can see where this is going.  Yes, I ended up miles from anywhere hiking through the harsh terrain of uneven lava rock wearing loose flip-flops, shorts and a tank top, no water, no cell phone, and most importantly – no flash light. Up until then the day had gone remarkably well. But let’s back up even further. As you know my passion is outrigger canoe paddling. This is my third year and I have been steering the “dark horse” crew. Earlier in the season I  steered  the “over 40′s” women but someone more experienced took over. This new crew was thrown together using random men and women of differing ages. We were just as surprised as everyone else when it turned out we were faster than all but the top mens’ crew on our team.

Yesterday in a 12 mile race, while we were closing in on the five fastest crews, our boat flipped over.  Miraculously our youngest paddler got it righted within seconds and hopped in to bail. We were up and running in no time and catching the 2 crews who had passed us while we were bailing. However, just when we upped our speed my steering paddle slipped out of my hand in a swell. I couldn’t reach for it without flipping us again, so with a heavy heart, I grabbed my spare blade and left my favorite paddle behind.

We placed 8th overall and easily beat all of the other crews on our team (except top men). More importantly none of my crew was mad at me for letting the boat go over. I couldn’t enjoy the victory though knowing my paddle was out there. It was my first steering blade.  When I bought it I asked the owner of the paddling store to help me pick out the best blade for my size and for the type of water I paddle in – without consideration of cost. We chose a 48″ black carbon fiber Kialoa with blue trim.  I added a silver shark decal after my shark encounter and  pink Hawaiian islands on the bottom of the wood shaft.  My boyfriend carved my initials under the tee-top handle and refinished it with a clear shine. It fits my hand perfectly and when I steer it feels like a part of me.

This brings us closer to how I ended up miles from anywhere in the closing dark, tears streaming, feet and hands bleeding wondering if I should try to get back to the car or continue to the next bay.

I wanted to go to the bay, where I thought my paddle must have drifted, to look for it. I thought we’d drive into the bay and walk the beach for a bit. What really happened was that we couldn’t drive in and had to park near the road to hike in. The hike wasn’t too terrible but flip flops are not great for walking on lava and big chunks of gravel. The shoreline, we discovered, was not sand but consisted of coin size smooth black rocks that worked their way in between my flip-flops and feet.  Stopping every few steps to shake out the rocks, I kept alternating between bare feet and flip flops.  My boyfriend found it a bit easier and walked on ahead. He kept going and I followed but the distance between us continued to grow as I diligently scanned the shoreline for my paddle.  After about an hour I realized I hadn’t seen Derek in quite a while and began concentrating on making better time. I thought by now he’d be tracking back to find me and we’d give up.

Eventually I got angry. Totally exhausted from the race, legs hurting, dehydrated, kids needing to be picked up and where the hell was Derek? How dare he leave me behind like this?  What if I fell and was seriously cut? The lava was extremely  jagged and my feet and hands were becoming sliced and bloody. By then I decided not to try to get back to the car because I (erroneously)  thought the next bay – where my car waited – was closer.  So I plodded on. Now the terrain was such that I had to walk high above the shore on loose red lava rocks and white chunks of coral that kept sliding under my feet throwing me off balance.  In some places I had to climb up a hill or down to to the shore to get through.  I didn’t know whether it was high or low tide but at times I needed to hop from rock to rock in order to get through little inlets in between the ocean and steep walls of lava. If the tide was higher I would have beens stranded and the sunlight was disappearing rapidly. I remembered that the full moon had been a few days ago so I couldn’t expect much help there.  I was glad someone had placed white coral pieces along the slight trail I was following.  In the back of my mind I  worried that Derek had seen my paddle and was injured trying to swim out to it, and that maybe I had passed right by him.

I pushed on and on, alternately soothing myself with calming words and then swearing at myself and Derek and finally sitting down to cry.  I can’t tell you how long this all took. Maybe 3 hours? It felt like weeks. Ultimately I made it to the next bay where all was dark and silent. My car was sitting safely in the lot but my keys were in Derek’s truck. I borrowed a phone from the security guard and called home. My friend answered and told me her husband was on his way to help Derek find me.

Apparently Derek had run back on a path up higher than where I had been walking and we passed by each other. When he couldn’t find me he ran back to his car and made some calls. Discovering that no one had heard from me, he ran frantically back to the beach and searched up and down for me.  He was visibly shaken when he got to me and I didn’t feel angry anymore. I do know now that even smart people sometimes you get lost hiking.  I am really glad they hadn’t gone to plan B and called the search and rescue guys. How embarrassing to be the nit-wit on the news who got lost hiking.