Lost

I didn't know a whole lot about Are Hjorungens. He was a Norwegian professor who went missing up on Peacock Flats last May. It took a large search party several days to finally find his body. I hadn't heard the full story, but I wondered how in the world someone could get lost up there. Peacock Flats had been my playground for the past couple of years- it was the perfect hill for running, biking, and camping- and nothing could compete with the stunning backdrop of the Pacific Ocean below. I always thought that if you lost your way up there, it couldn't be that hard to get to safety. All you had to do was look down over the ocean and head in that direction. Eventually you'd get where you needed to be.

I was proven wrong today when I decided to try an alternate route back home after reaching the top of the road on my mountain bike. It's a 3.5 mile climb to the top, and at that point I'm usually so spent that I turn around and zoom back down the way I came. Today I had some extra steam, so I decided to keep going down the path to the other side. At first it was awesome. I had found a 4x4 road that gave way to some incredible mountain biking. And more importantly, it was taking me back down to the ocean where I needed to be. But then the manageable downhill grade gave way to a heavily eroded trail, and suddenly I was walking my bike carefully along a steep and ruined road. And just like that, the trail cut back uphill, away from the sea and back into the mountains. I followed it for what seemed like hours, pushing my bike most of the way. I was lost.

The most frustrating part was that I knew exactly where I needed to be, and I could see it the whole way. But the ocean was hundreds of feet below me, and the trail kept leading me away from it. Was this the right path? Which fork should I take? At what point do I just turn around, and if I do, will I have enough energy and water to backtrack? Though I was frustrated, I didn't panic. I was still pretty sure that eventually a sign would pop up and I'd be reassured or redirected. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if this was exactly how Are Hjorungens felt. I shook it off. I just need to get down to the ocean, I thought.

I decided that I would get off my bike and rest around the next corner. To my horror, there was a small memorial in place.

It was just a small sign with a running man symbol and a Norwegian flag, but I knew exactly what it stood for. I figured this is where they had finally found him, where he had finally just called it quits and given in after being lost for several days. If that was the case, I may have severely underestimated my surroundings. I decided to keep moving, as I might have a ways to go. But just around the corner I found exactly what I had been searching for: a sign pointing to the Kealia Trail and the Dillingham Airfield down below.

I couldn't get over how tragic it was that he had been found less than 50 yards from safety. He was so close. Perhaps, I thought, when we're lost, we get so caught up in our own predicament that we lose track of the way out, even if it's right in front of us. Maybe he was lost more in his struggles than in his actual surroundings.

But when I finally got home, I did some research and found out that what actually happened was a much different story. Art Hjorungens was a pretty skilled orienteering trail runner, not just some tourist lost in the woods. He knew his way around the trails of Peacock Flats, and he didn't die from being lost. He had fallen off a ridge just one over from the Kealia Trail.

I'm guessing that like me, he briefly lost his way, but he could see where he needed to get to. So he headed in that direction, down a path that was a little too steep. Lucky for me, I was attached to a heavy blue bike, and I had already made a deal with myself that if the 4x4 trail ended, I would give up and turn around. After all, the only thing worse than being lost is being lost AND hurt. Side trails along steep ridges just weren't in the cards for me. But the experience made it strikingly clear to me how easily something like this could happen.

I still consider Peacock Flats my playground. But today, for a couple hours, it swallowed me up. As I pushed my bike in out and out of ravines that took me further and further from my destination, I was at its mercy.

Even on the days when the sky and ocean are the bluest, Mother Nature has the last say. It's our job to try and stay on her good side.