ben wakeman : : Journal

Lost in the Woods

May 17, 2004

I think I aged 3 years this weekend. To celebrate Ian turning 8 years old, we went on a father-son campout up in the North Georgia mountains -- specifically Raven's Cliff Falls. The party included, my brother and his son Dashiell, Ian's friends, Harry and Luke and their Fathers Jim and John. Including Ian and I there were eight of us altogether. We had worried about rain all week, and I spent hours planning and preparing everything from what food we would bring, to what safety gear we would need. I wanted this weekend to be nothing but a good memory for Ian. Alas, nothing ever goes as we would wish it--not entirely anyway.

The 2 1/2 mile hike up to the falls was not particularly tough, but the 70 pound pack I was carrying made it a challenge. The four boys immediately locked into that wonderful fantasy play mode that only little boys can -- chasing pixies, discovering "poisonous" plants and imaginary foes along the trail. We Dads, huffed along behind making the talk of men with the occasional silly Monty Python reference thrown into reveal something of the boys we used to be.

We found a great place to set up camp by the stream, unloaded our packs and pitched our tents. After gathering a lot of damp wood for the fire we hiked up to the very top of the falls and did a bit of exploring. I was really surprised by the terrain. It reminded me so much of home -- the clean, ionized smell of the cool air misting around the bottom of the falls, the rich black earth and the rododendrens.

Later we headed back to camp and began the age old challenge of building a fire. After one failed attempt, we got a wonderful blaze going. The fire roasted Teryaki chicken turned out to be a success along with the Risotto and corn on the cobb. The boys of course ate hot dogs and smores. The night passed easily with the boys playing in the tents and enjoying the great freedom of peeing outdoors and the fathers talking late around the fire with some bad whiskey I brought in a flask.

Since the boys deviated from our original sleeping arrangements and decided to all sleep in my tent, I ended up sleeping with my brother in his tent. Regretably, I don't think either of us did much sleeping between my tossing and turning with a throbbing migrain and his tent-flap moving snores. I was not expecting a refreshing night's sleep anyway, so when dawn broke, I slipped out of the tent and plunged my face into the cool water of the stream then began making breakfast.

After oatmeal and scrambled eggs, the boys began their exploration play again, venturing out away from the campsite in teams of two and four. We could always hear them stomping around, shouting and laughing while we were breaking down the tents and packing up. After a while, Harry and Luke came back to the camp and said that they could not find Ian and Dashiell. The boys said that they had wanted to run up the trail and "make a circle." Ian and Dashiell are not wild boys, but very cautious and always playing it safe. Neither Hans, nor I was worried, they would come back. They did not.

Jim offered to run up the trail a ways to fetch them since Hans and I were still packing up. Jim returned a short while later reporting no sign of them. I began to worry. Hans and I dropped what we were doing and ran up to the trail. I gave him one of the "3 mile radius" walky talkies that Ian got for his birthday, and neglected to take with him upon leaving the campsite. We split up heading down different fork of the trail, shouting their names and still fully expecting to find them hiding behind a tree somewhere playing. Nothing. I started picking up speed and shouting louder. I radioed to Hans that I was going to head pack towards the trail head and parking lot where we came in the day before.

As I continued my search along the steeper parts of the trail, I began to notice the steep cliffs to the right of the trails that plunged down into the rocky falls below. My pulse quickened and my mouth went dry. I began to shout louder, scanning the entire terrain and seeing nothing but trees, rocks and water. I broke into a full out sprint down the trail, fueled by adrenaline and my worst fears. They had been gone now for almost 45 minutes. The trail back to the parking lot was a minimum of two miles and I could not imagine these boys who complained after 200 yards going any further. My fear began to choke me. I just knew they had wandered of the path into the wilderness and gotten turned around, or worse had stumbled of a cliff and fallen.

Winded and about to collapse, I came across two hungover looking college kids with bed heads and flip flops who clearly did not look like they were out for a hike. They asked if I was looking for two kids and I nearly kissed them both. One of them said that his girlfriend had the boys down at the parking lot. I ran the rest of the two miles to the parking lot after unsuccessfully radioing my brother to let him know --- so much for "3 mile radius."

I found Dashiell and Ian slumping on the curb in the lot with tears in their eyes beside the young woman who helped them. Apparently, the boys had gotten spooked by a mountain-type man who was solo fishing along the stream and they began to run. After going aways they got turned around and got more scared so they just kept going --- for two miles! The young woman said that she could hear them wailing from their campsite off the trail, so she ran after them. Thank God for her.

I was so angry at them both. It was a good thing that I could hardly breath from my sprint by the time I got to them. After a considerable stern talking to filled with all my fears of what could have happened to them, and the usual "what were you thinking" line of interrogation I took them both in my arms and held them tight. They walked with me all the way back to camp site. Halfway there we finally met up with Hans who looked like I felt. They got their second helping of punishment. Their was little or nothing said for the two miles back. After passing the other two fathers and their sons on the trail who were having to get back early, we went back to the camp, had a couple of cold sandwiches then loaded our packs and hiked back down the 2 1/2 miles to the cars.

Looking back on it, I know I have never been more afraid in my life than I was for that hour out in the woods. We got home and explained the adventure to Mom, whom Ian was dreading the wrath of on the entire trip back. She was fairly restrained I thought. Ian won't be doing anything this week but homework. In the kitchen while putting the last of the food away, I collapsed into a fit of sobbing and the tears would not stop. I had almost lost him, my baby. Catherine as always was there, and she held me until I regained the stoic manly composure that is my signature;-)

Ian and I both learned big lessons on this trip into the wilderness and I know we will never forget his eighth birthday. You can see more pictures from the trip here.

2008

In The Morning

2007

UnAmerican

Faster Than the Speed of Documentation

Catching Up: How Many Plates Can I Spin?

Review of Eddie's Attic Show on March 30th

Meeting John Gorka

Things Lost, Things Recovered

Talking is Hard Work

No Snow in Moscow

Take Me To The Bridge