dreams. My mind started to whirl, but in a more
pleasant way, as I pondered how I could help make the Save Greensun
campaign a reality.
Dad sounded a bit noncommittal as I enthused over the
possibilities, but that was okay. I knew he'd been less than
thrilled at the idea of me spending the summer in rural Kentucky, too,
but he had my back. My whole family did. Maybe even my
bio-dad was helping me in his own unique way. I decided to give Glen the benefit of the doubt and see
where his mandatory adventure took me.
Talking to my family had cheered me up, so I decided
to beard Jacob in his den after all. There was no trail on either
side of Cell Phone
Ridge, but Jacob's directions and map had seemed pretty clear.
The trouble was that I wasn't sure
exactly what he was calling a holler when he said to take the third
holler on the left. Lots of small and large depressions
branched out from Cell Phone Ridge, and what I'd thought was the
third holler turned out to be a bowl that I later learned was formed
when an underground cavern collapsed and left a sinkhole behind.
I headed back up onto the spur that divided the
sinkhole from the next holler over, but I must have gotten turned
around because I didn't end up in a residential area soon
thereafter as Jacob's directions had predicted. Instead, all
around me were trees, trees, and more trees—I was lost.
By now, the afternoon sun was blazing, I was hot and
sticky, and my stomach was starting to ask when that promised dinner was
coming. Back in Seattle, I sometimes struck out off the
trails in the little park near my home, trying to enjoy the wilderness
experience by getting lost. But, there, I'd always come upon
a road or trail in short order. Now I was starting to realize
that the Appalachian landscape was less peopled and that meant I might
end up wandering these woods for a good long time.
The obvious solution was to throw in the towel, climb
back up Cell Phone Ridge, and go home. But which ridge was
which? The mountains around me seemed to split and merge in crazy
patterns, and I wasn't entirely clear on where Greensun lay.
Too late, I wished I'd taken a compass, or at least looked at where the
sun was sitting in the sky when I left the farmhouse. I eyed the creek at my feet
thirstily, but my Viking-Festival experience was enough to remind me I
should keep walking rather than tempting fate with a drink.
Downhill always leads you to civilization eventually,
right? Whether or not the truism would bring me out of the woods, I
was footsore enough that uphill no longer seemed to be an option. Down it was.
When I finally saw brighter light between the trees in front
of me and stepped out onto a gravel road, I was too exhausted to
celebrate. Instead, picking a direction at random, I continued to
walk. I might have even considered
hitchhiking if I'd known
where I was going (and if a single car had passed me), but instead I
just kept trudging along for what seemed like hours.
The rundown gas station that
appeared in front of me as I rounded the billionth curve looked like
paradise—a source of water, if nothing else. I headed into
the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, then sipped up enough
from my cupped hands to set my belly gurgling. I'd realized
during my long walk that I didn't have any money on me, and my cell
phone didn't get service unless I was on the ridge I'd come down off
of, but at least I'd reached a spot where I could ask for directions.
The man behind the counter took my bedraggled
appearance in stride but didn't have much advice since I had
never managed to ask Jacob what his last name was. His sole
customer, though, thought she knew who I was describing once I
mentioned the minivan taxi service.
"He lives up past my turn," the forty-something
pleasant way, as I pondered how I could help make the Save Greensun
campaign a reality.
Dad sounded a bit noncommittal as I enthused over the
possibilities, but that was okay. I knew he'd been less than
thrilled at the idea of me spending the summer in rural Kentucky, too,
but he had my back. My whole family did. Maybe even my
bio-dad was helping me in his own unique way. I decided to give Glen the benefit of the doubt and see
where his mandatory adventure took me.
Talking to my family had cheered me up, so I decided
to beard Jacob in his den after all. There was no trail on either
side of Cell Phone
Ridge, but Jacob's directions and map had seemed pretty clear.
The trouble was that I wasn't sure
exactly what he was calling a holler when he said to take the third
holler on the left. Lots of small and large depressions
branched out from Cell Phone Ridge, and what I'd thought was the
third holler turned out to be a bowl that I later learned was formed
when an underground cavern collapsed and left a sinkhole behind.
I headed back up onto the spur that divided the
sinkhole from the next holler over, but I must have gotten turned
around because I didn't end up in a residential area soon
thereafter as Jacob's directions had predicted. Instead, all
around me were trees, trees, and more trees—I was lost.
By now, the afternoon sun was blazing, I was hot and
sticky, and my stomach was starting to ask when that promised dinner was
coming. Back in Seattle, I sometimes struck out off the
trails in the little park near my home, trying to enjoy the wilderness
experience by getting lost. But, there, I'd always come upon
a road or trail in short order. Now I was starting to realize
that the Appalachian landscape was less peopled and that meant I might
end up wandering these woods for a good long time.
The obvious solution was to throw in the towel, climb
back up Cell Phone Ridge, and go home. But which ridge was
which? The mountains around me seemed to split and merge in crazy
patterns, and I wasn't entirely clear on where Greensun lay.
Too late, I wished I'd taken a compass, or at least looked at where the
sun was sitting in the sky when I left the farmhouse. I eyed the creek at my feet
thirstily, but my Viking-Festival experience was enough to remind me I
should keep walking rather than tempting fate with a drink.
Downhill always leads you to civilization eventually,
right? Whether or not the truism would bring me out of the woods, I
was footsore enough that uphill no longer seemed to be an option. Down it was.
When I finally saw brighter light between the trees in front
of me and stepped out onto a gravel road, I was too exhausted to
celebrate. Instead, picking a direction at random, I continued to
walk. I might have even considered
hitchhiking if I'd known
where I was going (and if a single car had passed me), but instead I
just kept trudging along for what seemed like hours.
The rundown gas station that
appeared in front of me as I rounded the billionth curve looked like
paradise—a source of water, if nothing else. I headed into
the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, then sipped up enough
from my cupped hands to set my belly gurgling. I'd realized
during my long walk that I didn't have any money on me, and my cell
phone didn't get service unless I was on the ridge I'd come down off
of, but at least I'd reached a spot where I could ask for directions.
The man behind the counter took my bedraggled
appearance in stride but didn't have much advice since I had
never managed to ask Jacob what his last name was. His sole
customer, though, thought she knew who I was describing once I
mentioned the minivan taxi service.
"He lives up past my turn," the forty-something
Similar Books
