Adventures in the Woods

I'm on a writers' retreat, which at this point should simply be called a retreat since I haven't gotten any writing done.

A friend from my writers' group rented a cabin in the Hocking Hills, the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains here in southern Ohio. 

Yesterday, a friend and I walked a little over a mile to a nature sanctuary and explored a trail there. We saw no other people as we wound down into the woods and ended at a Great Wall of mossy stone and a quiet green reflecting pool with water pouring into it from the cliffs above. 

Today, that friend has gone home, so alone, I decided to run to the trail and explore the path we didn't take. As I got to the sanctuary, just past the parking area and a wide swath of flat grass, a young deer startled and raced away through the woods. Did I scare her, I wondered. 

I kept going, surrounded by the hum of cicadas waking up, and turned down the path to the Rock Stalls. 

I'd only gone a little way when I heard a sound like a horse snorting out. Three times that huffing sound came from some place close. 

I froze and realized I was a mile and a half from our cabin and utterly alone in the woods. 

When I heard the sound, I'd imagined a stag pawing the ground, and wondered if he'd run at me. 

I called my husband. 

I told him the situation and he said, "It could be a bear." 

Gulp. I hadn't thought about a bear. 

"Some people say you should try to look big if a bear comes at you, but I don't think that would work for you." Really? Short jokes-- now?

He suggested I turn around but I really wanted to be brave and hike the trail alone. 

"It could be a person paralleling you in the woods," he suggested. 

"There are definitely no people around," I assured him. At 7:30 in the morning on an isolated trail, animals were my bigger worry. 

"How dense are the woods? Can you see into them?" he asked. But I had stopped by some thick bushes. 

"I'm going to keep hiking," I told him. 

So I continued down the path. The woods thinned out, but after a few minutes, I heard the snorting noise again. Three times. An asthmatic bear? 

I stood on the trail, the dappled sunshine struck me, and I began to sing: "My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue 

An endless changing vision of an ever changing view"

The song helped me be brave and I continued. 

The woods thinned out even more and I felt comfortable taking a few selfies. 

But I figure I could be one of those people who later inspects pictures and sees a bear or bobcat hanging out in the trees above me. 

The path intersected with the one we'd taken the day before and I felt more comfortable as I revisited the ancient spaces there. 

I made it back home after a 4 1/2 mile hike, which kind of ruins the end of the story, but if I'd been attacked by a bear, I wouldn't be writing this anyway.