Just a Learning Experience

Frustrated. After our mulitple nighttime visitors Torrey and I woke up to a cool autumn mountain morning, reluctant to get out of the warmth of our sleeping bags. When nature's call was finally too much to ignore we huddle close to the tent, waiting for sun to crest the ridge above us and warm our bones. I went to make oatmeal, our favorite hot breakfast discovered when we backpacked in the Rockies last summer, and realized I had been a complete idiot in my rush to get away for the weekend. I was dumb and didn't check fuel canister before packing it, leaving us with just enough fuel to heat dinner the night before, but not enough for anything else, including a much-needed hot breakfast. What a stupid, stupid mistake. And it wouldn't be the first one of the day.

We hiked on, somewhat more slowly than the day before as we tried to warm up. It wasn't long, maybe a couple of miles from our campsite, before a brick slid into my stomach as dread took my breath away and a realization hit me that made me stop in my tracks: I'd left my car keys in my purse, which was currently hidden in Torrey's car back at the trailhead where we started. And we were hiking away from it, toward my car parked at the ending trailhead, where we were supposed to get in and drive back to Torrey's car before we parted ways. With no small amount of shame I confessed my mistake to Torrey, and we had a short discussion about how to handle the issue. We were almost exactly half way between the two trailheads. We could turn back and be done with the hike once we got to Torrey's car, drive around and go pick up mine then go home, or we could continue on and hope someone would give us a ride a few miles to go back to Torrey's car and my car keys.

Any surprises about what we chose to do? Sometimes I hate my stubborn streak, where I commit to something and will do just about anything to see it through, including placing a bet on whether someone would be kind enough to pick up two stinky women with giant backpacks and take them back to their car, where one of them was stupid enough to leave essential items behind in the first place. I mean really. The entire trip was accident after mistake after mistake, and most of it was my fault. That's what I get for getting cocky and being desperate to get outside. Many times for the remainder of the seven miles we had to hike I mentally kicked myself, reflecting that it seemed like we should've just stayed home, or called it off after I hit the deer. I refuse to regret it, though. I just try to see it as a learning experience. One lesson after another, and lessons I took to heart. You can bet I'll triple check whether or not I have my car keys from now on!

Not only were we dealing with my stupid mistakes, we ended up taking longer to get out than we'd planned. The miles crawled by while the minutes flew past, and Torrey and I were both mentally done with our hike but still had miles to go before our feet. I didn't enjoy the last two or so miles of the trail, and some day want to go back and have a do-over when I'm in a better mood. All I could think about is how much of an ordeal it would be to get a ride once we reached the end of our hike, and the fear that we wouldn't find someone willing to help us ate at me. In hindsight we should have just turned around when I realized I didn't have my keys, but again, that stubborn streak. My fears were heightened when we finally reached the end of our trail and the first park ranger we came across couldn't give us a ride even after we explained our situation.

We were left with two choices: start walking back along the road, or hitchhike. We opted for the lesser of the two evils and approached two nice older ladies. Once they got a good look at us and I admitted to my mistake, we were piling ourselves and our packs into the back of their Prius and they took us back to Torrey's car chatting the whole way about the river, the mountains, traveling, and whatever else came to mind. For my first time hitchhiking it was definitely not a bad experience, I'm just not keen to do it again. I'm self-reliant and independent to a fault on the best of days, and having to admit to mistakes and ask for help fixing them leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But sometimes even I have to swallow my pride, especially if it means we don't have to walk another fourteen or so miles with already-sore feet. The rest of our adventure was thankfully uneventful. The ladies dropped us off at Torrey's car with a wave and a wish of good luck and a thank you from us. I promptly dug out my car keys, and Torrey took us back to my car and the Buffalo River for our goodbyes. We parted ways, her heading north and me heading south, with the promise of meeting there again someday soon, maybe next fall, and hiking another section of trail or floating part of the river. Next time, I'll remember my car keys.