Lost in Bradbury

For the first time in my running history, I turned on the mapping function of my GPS watch hoping that it would help me find my way. There I was standing somewhere on the East side of Bradbury, looking at a bunch of dotted lines on my watch unsure how to follow the lines back to my car. As concerned as I was, I had Wild excitedly sniffing about while on the leash, unaware that I had no idea where we were or how we were going to get back.
It all started so simply as I had about forty five free minutes before I had to pick up my son at pre-school just a few miles away from the park. There were less than ten cars in the lot at Bradbury but I still decided to avoid the ‘crowd’ and darted over to the East side.
There was still plenty of snow that was nicely packed down and I was glad I had put on my ice grips. I could have followed the snowmobile trails but I decided to turn on the Lanzo trail even though there were only a couple ski tracks to follow. It wasn’t ideal running but I wasn’t looking to go fast and even though I knew there wouldn’t or shouldn’t be any other people I decided to hold onto Wild’s leash instead of letting him run totally free.
I got to the Island Loop intersection and after I turned onto it I turned back as I had noticed a ziploc bag hanging from the trail kiosk. There was an envelope inside the bag marked, ‘For you.’ Since I am a ‘you’ I opened it up and found read the note which stated something about me being wonderful and other loving stuff that was just really nice, granted a little sappy but nonetheless a genuinely nice gesture by a total stranger meant for other random strangers.
It was here along the trail that the trouble began. The ski tracks were easy to follow but then I began to notice that the tracks were leading off the trail once in a while but would loop back to a noticeable trail underneath the melting snow which was about ankle high.
I pressed on figuring I would be able to still complete the loop and get back to better packed trail. I’m not really certain if I lost the ski tracks or just decided to follow what I thought was the trail but I soon found myself standing in the snow looking around wondering just where the hell was I? Then I noticed some yellow blazes on the trees so I made my way toward one and then the next and so forth. What was puzzling me was that nothing seemed like a trail around me. I wasn’t pushing my way through branches but clearly the path I was following the blazes was not a path most normal people would not be following. Once in a while though it did seem as if I was on a ‘trail’ and this false confidence was actually getting me more and more lost.
I came to the realization that I was truly unaware of my location, in other words lost, when I came back to my own tracks. I figured that I shouldn’t follow my own tracks back since they had gotten me lost to begin with and also I didn’t feel like cutting short my run even if my tracks led me directly back to Island intersection. Wild could have cared less which direction I chose as he ate some snow between sniffs.
I tried following more yellow blazes, still thinking these were trail markers and thinking once in a while there was a trail at my feet beneath the snow. There were more deer tracks around us than signs of human travel, except whenever I came back to my own prints. I had managed to go in circles at least a couple times. I knew I was circling around as I came across one of my ice grips that had fallen off unbeknownst to me. I picked it up, and took my other one off not wanting to lose them, and there was little ice and just ankle deep snow. Now I knew that I was truly lost. I couldn’t believe that I had gotten lost in a place that I had traveled so many times. Despite the countless miles I had run at Bradbury I didn’t know where I was or how I would be able to find my way back.
I came to a spot where I could identify a rough field through the woods, a place that I couldn’t recall ever seeing but there were still plenty of yellow blazes that I continued to follow and once again there seemed to be a trail as I crossed a couple of small bridges. My watch was set on auto-pause so although it indicated I had only been running for about twenty minutes I knew I was probably out for a while longer and I needed to find a way out soon in order to pick up my son in time.
I passed by a rusted out bed frame, something that I defiantly had never seen before and even though it seemed like I was on a trail I knew I had to do something different to get unlost. That was when I clicked my watch over to the map option even though I really didn’t know how to use it properly. The screen showed a bunch of dotted lines going relatively straight until it came to a spot where there was a small mass of dots all circling around one another and then one small straight one leading to where I was presently standing. I could try to follow these small dots out of the woods but I decided to head back to where I had seen the field instead.
It was here I spotted what seemed to be a woods road. As rough as it looked I made the decision to check it out. After all it had to lead somewhere right. I knew of some roads surrounding the park besides Route 9 and hoped that this woods road would lead to one of them if not Route 9 itself.
Coming out of the woods onto this little road, that was of course not plowed but clearly a road, probably leading to a woods lot, I could now see a couple houses and a small farm. And in a short while I could even see a couple green road signs on a telephone poll. At the end of the road I stepped around a rope barrier and read the sign hanging on it stating ‘No trespassing’. Too late. I was pretty certain I had come out to Route 9 and just needed to turn left to get back to the park. Still I checked the road signs a little ways a way in the opposite direction but confirmed that I was on the Hallowell Road, also known as Route 9. Yahoo!
Wild still had plenty of energy left as we ran down the road back to the park no more than a half a mile away. It was the first time in quite awhile that I was truly happy, if not even thrilled to be running on a road. I got back to the mini van and filled Wild’s water bowl saving a little for myself. A few minutes later I was greeting Quinn getting some awesome five year old hugs.
I look forward to my next run, which most certainly will still be at Bradbury. Next time I think I’ll deal with the ‘crowds’ and stick to trails that I know will not let me live up to trail name, The Lost Osprey.