Lost & Found

Last Saturday, Jim and I took a drive up the Gorge. It is a beautiful drive past the Columbia River on one side, multiple waterfalls that dance down steep cliffs on the other side of the road.

We nibbled our picnic lunch at the rest area right at the base of Starvation Creek Trailhead, and then strolled to the trail head to Mt. Defiance the highest point in the Gorge. “That’s a really hard climb,” I said to Jim. “Once Bill (my late husband) and I got separated on the way. I’ll never forget it,” I said. I continued my tale that happened twenty-some years earlier.

We had a good break, eating a snack of gorp–peanuts, M & Ms, & raisins. We drank lots of water–always important when hiking. It was a warm day in late May in the Columbia River Gorge. We were doing a test hike to see if there was too much snow to do a sponsored Friends of the Gorge hike in a couple of weeks. The lake was calm, I could hear the birds singing their songs and I was enjoying a rest from the steep climb. We were halfway to the top.

A slight breeze ruffled my hair. But it was time to go. My husband with our black Lab had wandered along the shore of the lake, taking some photos, and I didn’t see him any more. He must have started up the trail, I thought. I quickly put on my daypack, grabbed my hiking pole and headed out. It was flat at the lake, but it would be a steep climb from here on–4959 feet.

I moved quickly to catch up to him. But he never appeared in front of me. Where was he? I began to move a little faster. Even though the trail was very steep, I pressed on, trying to catch up. Soon there was snow, but that didn’t slow down the panicked hiker that I was. I just pushed and pushed. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed up the steep hill–or any trail as fast as I did that day. I didn’t want to lose him. I went for some time and was at last near the top. I decided to stop and rest on a large rock and wait to see if he’d show up.

I asked several people who were descending if they’d seen a man with a black dog. But none of them had. Finally, I saw my husband coming up from a different way than I had come. He saw me and I could see the concern on his face melt away when he saw me. “Man, Shirley. Where were you? I’ve been hollering for you for hours!”

“I thought you’d gone ahead.”

“You know we don’t separate on a trail.”

“I know. But I panicked. I just thought you’d left. I didn’t want to stay at the lake too long with you ahead of me.”

We completed the climb. Had a break at the top before we headed down.

Bill was so relieved we’d found each other. He thought he’d have to call and get help finding me. Separating on a trail is a big no-no. He asked me not to tell anyone about our near-disaster.

We arrived at the top, took a break, and began the descent which is much harder than going up. The trail just goes down, down, down with no flat places at all.

I never told anyone about that near-disaster until now. Bill has been gone now nearly twenty years and I don’t think he’d mind if I told about it now.

Mt. Defiance at 4,000 feet–959 feet to go

That experience reminded me to always stick to what I know is right: never leave until the whole group is together on a trail–even if it’s just the two of you. Trust that the leader is there and won’t leave you by yourself.

How often do we as Christians take off on our own, thinking God doesn’t care. That He isn’t there with us. We can’t hear his voice so He isn’t there. Kind of like me, not trusting that my husband would never leave without me on the trail.

Passages in God’s word remind me:

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; (Psalms 46:10)

“I will never fail you. I will never abandon you” (Hebrews 13:5).

So many times, I have to re-align my thoughts and remind myself that God is there. He is always present, even when we think he isn’t.

“Father, forgive me for the times I’ve moved up the trail of my life, thinking you weren’t there, you didn’t care, when you really were there all the time. Remind me, next time, when I think I’m all alone. Remind me to “rest, be still, and know” you are God. Amen.”