Trying to Get Lost

Rain batters the windows and wind gusts through the yard whipping the fall leaves into a frenzy, knocking down our sunflowers and dropping our tomatoes from the vine. It is Wednesday, Adventure Wednesday, and the weather is not cooperating.

Never-the-less, we have thrown our hats over the wall, and have even received special permission to miss school on Wednesdays in the name of outdoor education, so outside we must go.

I survey the bikes, imagining a wild wet ride through the woods, but lucky for Oaks, they have all simultaneously fallen into disrepair. We have been plagued by three flat tires, one bent derailleur and a snapped chain, all in the past week. I consider canoeing alongside the lee of the island, but after a quick recon to view the frothing, tumultuous waters, I heed to caution.

Then it hits me. Orienteering. We will grab our compasses and hit the woods. “Let’s go, Oaks!” We don our rain gear, inhale a hardy snack and I show him how following a compass works. Oaks seems intrigued. This is old fashioned adventuring. We talk about people who have crossed the country and the ocean using compasses. It is our challenge today to merely cross our island.

We look at a map of Peaks and take a bearing on a point directly East from our home-Whale Back Ledge. All we need to do is head off at 90 degrees, and after an hour or two we will find ourselves standing upon it looking out to sea.

We begin by leap frogging. Oakley holds the compass while I run forward and stand 90 degrees from him. He then runs to me and hands me the compass and I send him ahead keeping him in a direct line. We do this over and over.

It isn’t long before we leave the comfort of our road and head into the woods. We clamber over slippery, fallen trees, through tangles of bittersweet and pricker bushes. We find a raccoon den, stir up some frogs and sneak in and out of peoples back yards that happen to be on our path.
There can be no variation from 90 degrees, private property be damned.

“Okay mom, you go.” I set out on my turn to forge ahead. I pick my way gingerly, moving vines and branches out of my way, cautious of slippery rocks and getting a stick in the eye. “Keep going, keep going. Now to your left, two more steps. Perfect, now freeze.” Oakley bounds to where I am.

He is wearing shorts and I notice that he has scratched up his legs. Trickles of blood run through his leg hair, smearing in the spitting rain and interweaving with the mud that we have kicked up as we crossed boggy areas. Pieces of wet leaves and dirt stick to his forehead and his sodden hair hangs heavy. “Now it is my turn. Tell me when to stop. This is fun.” He says.

I wonder if he knows that these words are like candy to me. After battling with him over distance learning and watching him stare at the computer for hour upon hour, seeing him out here smiling in the woods is probably as cathartic for me as it is for him.

When I catch up with him, several leap frogs later, I find that he is standing in a grove of poison ivy. It is thigh high, and practically wrapped around his legs like a skirt.“Oaks, you are standing in poison ivy!” He is nonplussed.

“It’ll be fine.” He says. “Why do you always worry?” We should probably stop and run back home to scrub him down with soap and water, but neither of us want to quit. I choose to believe him. I guess we will see whether his smile was truly worth it in a day or so.

After two and a half hours we make it across the island and are greeted at Whaleback ledge with the return of the warm sun shining off the rolling surf. We stroll back home along the road planning for next weeks fun and hoping Oakley’s legs survive this week’s adventure.