A Snack-less Outing.

The sun hangs high in the sky, and birds sing their songs back and forth to each other from the branches above me. I step into the cool arboretum, sighing as if I've returned to a long-lost home. I love the outdoors, but let's face it: I'm pretty lazy. I work out in the AC, but I don't go outdoors much. Joshua laughs at me because I drive to the Wesleyan gym (which is just across the lake). So today, I was really proud of myself that I had decided to take a hike in Wesleyan's Arboretum. I've been there a few times, but did not know the area particularly well. I was not entirely sure what to expect.

Stepping into the arboretum is almost like stepping into another world. Everything surrounding me falls silent; the grating sound of the lawnmower across the hill, the screaming children on the tennis court, the cars of Tucker Road. The path descends and a wooden bridge takes you over the creek, where frogs hurriedly splash into the water upon hearing footsteps.

I walk on, basking in the afternoon sun that falls in fragments between the leafy canopy above me. My footsteps make soft sounds on the dirt path; squirrels play noisily in the leaves, darting up and down trees. It is peaceful.

A flash of color draws my eye downward. A box turtle sits, solitary, before eyeing me and retreating into his shell. I bend down to get a closer look. I decide to pick the poor little guy up, and I walk onward until I reach this absolutely beautiful clearing. I cannot believe Wesleyan has been hiding this place in their backyard this long and I never knew! It seriously looks as though it is straight out of the book Bridge to Terabithia, which brings me back to 3rd grade. A creek runs through the clearing, and the water running over the rocks makes little gurgling noises.

I set the turtle down as I sit on a rock and take my water bottle out of my bag. I realize then that I was in such a rush to get out the door that I had neglected to pack a snack. (Hiking and I have a bad history, don't we?) I check my phone. It is nearly dead. But I shrug, figuring I'll be ok. It is doubtful that I will meet calamity in the Wesleyan woods. I walk on, stopping in the clearing by the cabin to read for a bit with the turtle, who peeps his head out only a few times. Then I pick another path, walk down, and walk on, on, on.

It has been over an hour now. I know where I am, and I know what direction I should be going in to get back to the path, but I realize that I have become very entangled in the path, didn't study the map and it would take so long for me to retrace my steps back that I might as well keep going. After another good 30 minutes of walking, I realize that I, indeed, do not know if I will ever emerge from the woods. I am beginning to worry that I may get low at some point and not be able to call anyone due to my dying cell phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I knew that I should have thought this through better, but the beautiful summer day had beckoned to me.
I trod on and on, still enjoying the hike but acknowledging that I would be enjoying it far more if I knew how far away from the school I was. As far as I was concerned, the path appeared to have no end as it snaked past a slow-moving creek and rose to surround me with thin young pine trees.

Shoot, I think, swatting at a gnat. I am half-lost in the woods, Diabetic with no food, and I have a turtle in my hand. Taking stock of the situation I press onward, certain that if I go in the right direction long enough that I must emerge at some point. It takes me a while, but I finally realize where I am and, with great joy, reach the trail's end out by the MAC. I am relieved as I crouch down to set the turtle back on the ground. The poor guy was probably feeling seasick.
I can feel myself  shaking just the slightest bit, and sweat clings at my back as I struggle up the hill and finally make it back to the apartment.
I know I am low at this point, and when I test back in my room I see that I am 59. I am mad at myself but sigh with relief that I narrowly dodged a bullet. No harm done, but I'll be sure to take more care in the future.

I sure do love the outdoors, but lesson learned: I'll bring not one, but a few, snacks next time!