Lost in the Poconos

Early October can be cold in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania, especially after the sun goes down. It is also the time when some of the rare moths appear. Here then, is the tale of being lost in the Poconos one late October night.

We were driving along the winding mountain roads searching for obscure pull-offs where we could park the car and walk into the woods unnoticed. Our objective was to look for good spots to put out blacklight traps, which are used to attract moths. We had explored about five potential trap sites when the sun began to set. I looked up into the sky and saw the first stars of the night. The constellation Cassiopeia was beginning to appear. Just beautiful.

"Let's check this one out," said fellow biologist Charles. "OK," I said, and we hopped out of the car and made our way into the woods, boots crunching on the dry leaves. After traveling about 50 yards or so, we decided to head back to the car. We turned around and walked back the way we came. We walked and we walked. There was no car, no pull-off.

"Where are we?" I asked.  "The car should be right here!".  "I don't know," he responded. "Let's keep looking."

The battery on my headlamp, the only light we had, was beginning to die as the fading light bounced off the trees. I was starting to shiver, as I had not worn a coat. Every exhale produced a cloud of vapor. We walked for half an hour and still no sign of the car. Cassiopeia continued to shine above us.

"We should build a fire," Charles said. "I don't think so Charles, I think we should build a survival shelter so that we can keep warm until morning." Back and forth we went as we peered into the darkness, looking for a glimmer of hope in the form of light shining on a bumper.

"OK, hold on," I said. I pulled out the topographical map. "Listen and look Charles. Do you hear the sound of this highway?", I asked, pointing to the major roadway indicated on the map. "It is coming from over there," I said. "I have been watching the stars all night, and if I can find a clearing so that I can see Cassiopeia clearly, I think I can figure out where we are using this map. We have been gone for a couple of hours and I think she should have shifted about this far in the sky during that time. She came up in the east." I held my hand up to the sky, making two inches between my thumb and index finger.

We searched the heavily forested area until finally coming into a small clearing. There, through the branches of an oak tree, shined Cassiopeia. Orienting myself to this beautiful constellation and to the sound of the highway, I calculated a route that would take us back to the road we came in on. We might not find the car, but at least we would have a road.

Charles thought I was crazy. I knew better.

Our boots shuffled through the leaves as we walked in the direction that Cassiopeia sent us. Within 15 minutes, the dim light of my headlamp reflected off the bumper of a car. Our car.

Ever since I was a young girl I have known to pay attention to my surroundings. I look at the trees, the plants, the slope of the hill, what stars are out and where they are in the sky. How high was the sun, how high is the sun now? Does it smell like rain? What kind of soil am I walking on? Dry sand, or dark organics, indicating a former wetland? What birds are singing? I don't use GPS when in the woods or in the car. I want to be connected in my body and Spirit to the world around me. I don't want to be lost when that rechargeable battery dies.

But most importantly, I don't want to miss one bit of the glory of Nature that surrounds me. Not one bit.