Last Saturday, an anticipated 60-minute hike morphed into three hours. Having an unexpected day off, I went on a run that morning, did chores, and then considered thrifting. The sun still shining (thank you, Colorado!), I instead chose a new-to-me trail. Despite its proximity to my new neighborhood, I stumbled upon the space.
With a book in tow, I thought I stayed the path, all turns in the same direction, eventually choosing a “desire path” for the one different turn, over a bridge. I read Burn It Down, an expose on Hollywood myths, and watched seagulls, bikers, and fellow hikers choose strolls through the park instead of scrolls through social media.
It’s January, the sun’s shining, and yet the wind slaps. And so, my allergies kicked in. I decided to turn around. I thought. I missed my one different turn and proceeded to miss all the subsequent turns in the same direction, finding a completely different area, including a lake, lookout area, and different parking lot.
I was terrified.
When the parking lot neared, I prayed for a map. No luck. And so, I began asking those fellow hikers and bikers for help. “Where’s the other parking lot?” I asked. There were many other parking lots. I tried to find that bridge. And could not.
Eventually, someone had gone to a different parking lot, but he was the only car there. So, that one was out.
I realized, I have a smart car. And pulled out my phone for the coordinates. I was just 2 miles away. Certainly, those laps were at least triple that. But I finally made it, one biker even circling back to me to ensure I was okay safe.
One of my goals is to be a tourist in my own state. Ideally, that looks like exploring, feeling free. But in reality, this hike is a reminder to pay attention to my surroundings and the people around me.
This isn’t a scary story. It’s one of grace.
The sun still shone through those 3 hours. A fellow human checked on me. Every single person on that trail was receptive to my questions. As much as I loathe tech-dependency, in this case, smart technologies helped me.
I definitely don’t have all the answers, and I am not going to write some magical pro and con list of hiking off grid. Instead, this story reminds me that my values of curiosity and bravery extend beyond the physical; it is in asking for help that I am shaped and changed.
It is through living bravely and curiously that those values transform, by what I do, what I believe, and what I say:
I can ask for help, and I can say, “I don’t know.”
When I start to see this as an example of living a values-driven life, it is not that I got lost. It is not the absence of fear that makes bravery. Instead, it is that I too am a human, capable of getting lost, but able to ask for help. I was vulnerable, not just that I was (felt) physically alone.
Intersections of life reveal some stories stick. For a long time, I thought I had to be independent, because that was freedom. I thought if I didn’t depend on others, no one depended on me. When in reality, a lot of people depended on me. I just didn’t trust them.
Turns out bravery looks different on everyone. People need people, myself included. I am learning it is brave to ask for help from others. I am not worthless if I ask for help from God. Depending on others is not a sign of weakness.
Take a phone with you. Keep track of your route(s). And know you’re not alone.