Lost

Camping was a big deal for my family. Every summer and clear into the fall during hunting season, we braved the wilds. I looked forward to camping. This was a chance to go far from home and be close to nature. Playing close to a lake or river was always a thrill. Roughing it was a favorite pastime. Dad taught Mikey and me how to cook in a Dutch Oven, build a decent fire, fish, hunt, and how to sleep comfortably when there was no bed present.

The summer of 1972, we drove into the Idaho back country and camped in the Yellow Jacket country. This is the area where many decades earlier, Grandpa Harry lived with his dad who drove a team of horses in supporting the mining effort in that area. Grandpa mentioned Yellow Jacket many times in his life history.

Going into this rough country was a problem for our Ford van. It simply wouldn't go over some of the steep mountain passes we needed to climb. Fortunately, Cousin Vic had his four-wheel drive jeep. He towed us up a few of the steeper mountains.

The first night, we camped next to a high mountain lake. Dad, Vic and Mikey went down to the lake to do some fishing. Mom stayed back at camp and started preparing dinner. I grabbed my fishing pole and headed down the trail that I thought dad and the others had taken. After walking for a few minutes, I realized that I was all alone and all about me was absolutely quiet.

I stopped and looked around. I tried as hard as I could to hear any sounds of other human beings. Suddenly, I felt a huge panic set-in. I had not felt such an overwhelming feeling of fear ever before in my life. My phobias seemed to compound and I felt I would never see another person again. Even though I was probably only a few hundred yards from our camp and from dad who was fishing near the lake, I transformed into a crazed nut! I threw my pole down and ran as fast as I could down the trail, screaming all the way.

Mikey, who was near dad’s location, heard my distant screams. He ran in the direction of the sound. It’s a good thing he could run fast and was nearby. When he finally caught up with me, I was running in the wrong direction and had lost all sense of coherence. He grabbed and held onto my jacket until I had calmed down. Even though I was sure Mikey was my enemy much of the time, at that moment, I was happy he found me and stopped me from running into the forest and far away. No doubt I would have really been lost if he hadn't come after me.

It was during this period of my life that I often felt like a timid whelp scared of my own shadow. I had a phobia of being lost and separated from familiar surroundings and family members. Even though I carried a Buck knife on my belt, it did not alleviate the incredible fear I felt most of the time. Mom and dad tried to pry out of me the cause of my fear, but I had no way to adequately tell them what I was feeling. In addition to that, I felt ashamed  and didn't want them to think I was less of a person. I knew deep down inside, I had problems, but didn't know what to do about it.

The next day, we traveled up to the Yellow Jacket mine and camped there. Dad and Vic panned for gold and found a bit of color. Littering the ground was refuse from the mining operations from a bygone era. Here and there, we found bits of dynamite. Dad warned us not to play with the stuff and to report anything that looked like a giant firecracker. Like most kids, we just ran around and did what we wanted. Fortunately, we were not killed or maimed and had an abundance of fun.