“I won’t leave this light on”, I thought to myself when I left the apartment, “I’ll be back before it’s dark.”

A novice hiker’s famous last words.

My friend and I went for a beautiful, adventurous, and conversational walk at Raystown Lake. This place is a tourist hot spot for boating, kids, education, cookouts, picnics, fishing, and our favorite for the night, hiking. However, we had no idea the night would end with a ride in the back of a park ranger truck.

Old Logger’s Trail was new to both me and my friend.  From the map posted by the parking area we’d complete the trail in 2 hours or less. So we left our water, our cell phone, and everything else you might need (like first aid or flashlights) and we started at the entry point (which we thought we knew which one it was…a map would have been helpful, too).

Alas, we began and it’s wonderful! Conversation about life, trees (and identifying them!), and other random things (centipede creature!) were covered as we hiked along this beautiful path as if it were the Dark Forest from Harry Potter but more of a happier, Tolkien forest with bright colors and sunsets. A steep incline, some huge rocks here and there, views of the lake – what an evening!

Evening turned into night.

We kept following the path to the parking lot but it seemed to take quite awhile. Finally, after stumbling and struggling to find footing in some rocky spots, unable to read posts or markers, too dark to see the blue guide posts, we made it to the section of the trail we believed to be our long awaited parking lot. My friend had to pee and I thought it was about time we finished this sucker. Come on, we had to be in the right spot, right?

5 miles from the right spot!

We were just halfway through the entire trail! We had ended up at a campground where a nightpost fellow was manning the station. At first we asked him about the parking lot and he directed us right over the hill. “Great!” we thought as we took a quick path. But soon to our dismay we discovered this was not our parking lot. We were left with a similar sentiment as Ashton Kutcher “Dude, where’s my car?”

So we scampered up the hill to Mr. Attendant and inquired about about these “parking lots”. Turns out we discover we’re only halfway through, 5 miles from our parking (on paved roads that is) and it’s 9:45pm. The moon’s beams are blocked by lakey cloud coverage and we have two options: 1) Two young women 23 and 21 yrs of age begin walking 5 miles to the car or 2) Call the park rangers for a lift.

Let’s call the taxi in white!

Mr. Attendant, who chuckled with us and offered us chairs that we eventually had to accept because of his hospotality (I was waiting for some iced tea, my goodness) had to take our names and mark it in the activity book. “Great”, I thought, “a bright spot for the background checks. I can see it now: ‘becomes bewildered when estimating distance’.” After briefly sitting and reviewing the map and guide provided at the campground check in/out station, the rangers arrivied with much hilarity and merryment. To make their jovial nature even more robust, my friend shared she works at Raystown 5 days a week (granted, this place is pretty large and she is doing educational things, not hikey path things). Oh, but they still got a kick out of it. One of the guys even recognized her. I was glad she was honest about it because it takes guts to admit something like that if you were concerned about how you’d appear.

So along the ride back to the 1986 Chevy Celebrity the rangers shared stories of people who really get themselves in a pickle – young kids who go off the path, a mother and her 18 month old stranded in a boat at night, and even the elderly who, despite their own health, were more concerned about getting back to their dogs when they were stranded also. They noted that we did ourselves a favor by staying on the path and not becoming distressed or panics. They did remind us to take things along next time (like that flashlight, water, and map stuff I mentioned earlier).

My friend and I laughed about the whole thing on the way home. Sure, maybe this could be no laughing matter in a very serious situation, but we traveled out of tundra of Raystown and have quite a memory. We’ve decided to try something smaller next time, take maps, carry a phone, but still have a fantastic time of conversation, nature, and adventure (without the park rangers).