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Hunger was setting in, but I really couldn't do anything about it. This time of year, I wasn't likely to run across any berries and, if I did, I wouldn't know what was safe to eat. I knew you could survive days without eating. Those would be difficult days for me because I love to eat. Thinking about it only made it worse, so I focused on the positives of my situation. I was alive. I was uninjured. I had access to snow and fire, so water wouldn't be a problem. Fudge. I realized I could build a fire to melt snow into water, but I had nothing to put the snow in. For now, I wanted to keep moving, so I grabbed a handful of snow in one hand, covered it with the other and when it started to drip out, I drank it. It wasn't enough water, and my hand was frozen. I knew you weren't supposed to eat snow, but I didn't think it would kill me. Or at least it wouldn’t be the first thing in this situation that would kill me.
I concentrated on driving until I came to my next decision point. The snowmobile was still going, although the gas level was barely registering, when I came to a stream. Did I follow the stream or the road? I opted for the road and kept driving.
It was still light when the snowmobile engine sputtered and died. I knew it was going to happen, so I had a plan. I needed to scavenge everything I could from the vehicle before I started hiking.
I have to admit, I was pretty proud of myself. I fashioned a back pack out of the seat cover and some wiring, I took one of the mirrors to use to signal for help, I took off the windscreen. I thought I could use it somehow to melt water for snow. I weighed the option of trying to set the snowmobile on fire. I figured I could light a cigarette and throw it in the gas tank. It might explode. I was conflicted about whether an explosion would be good or bad. In the end, I couldn't do it. I was afraid I might get injured.
I left the remains of the snowmobile in the road, hoping the Wilkins' Gap SAR team was out looking for me and would find it. I left another teal yarn ball on the handlebars and another arrow in the road pointing the direction I was walking.
Walking along the road, wasn't too bad. The boots were too big, and I was sure I'd have blisters, but blisters could be treated when I got home. Pictures of Chance doctoring my feet flashed across my mind. I kept hoping I'd hear someone and then worrying that it might be my captors.
When I stopped for the night, I took shelter under the boughs of a fir tree, I cleared a spot for a fire ring and mourned the loss of the shovel. I was exhausted and scared. I was afraid when I sat down, I wouldn't get back up, so I made sure I had lots of firewood to keep the fire going. I'm sure Chance would laugh if he saw my campsite, but I was pretty proud of myself for having a little shelter—evergreen boughs, a way to melt snow and filter it—the snowmobile windshield and a piece of fabric from my dress, and a fire courtesy of the bad habits of my captors. I even gathered some pine needles and made pine needle tea in the drinking pouch I fashioned out of the leather seat cover. I've never really been into crafting, but I might have to add that to the new skills I wanted to pursue. When I made the commitment earlier to up my wilderness skills, I may not have been fully committed, but I was now.
I had no food and no sleeping bag, but I was oddly content as I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and sipped my tea. My thoughts were all over the place. I was thinking that if I had my phone, I could take a picture of my campsite. If I sent it to my mother, she'd probably kidnap me herself and haul me back to Georgia. When I first moved to Wilkins' Gap, I thought managing the cafe would be a boring life. Maybe it would be, but Rick was managing the cafe for me now, and I was off on adventures in the wilderness hunting cryptids. Adventures that had put me in more danger that I ever imagined. I finished my tea and settled in to sleep if I could.
I woke up to knocking. I heard knocking. I needed to get up and answer the door. As I started to move I remembered where I was. There was no door to worry about. I listened and heard the same sounds I heard in the woods with Chance—the sounds he said were made by bigfoot. I decided to try the whole positivity thing. "Hey bigfoot, if you're out here, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing your quiet place. I don't want to cause you any trouble, but I sure would appreciate it if you'd help me find my way back. You seem to like Chance, maybe you could help him find me. If I knew how to say that with sticks, I would."
I leaned back and listened as the sounds of the knocking reverberated through the forest around me. I couldn't really tell what direction it was coming from. The noise kept up, but I was so tired I fell asleep in spite of it.