Having terrified fun in the face of an adventure

So, we thought it would be adorable to participate in what was referred to as a “sunset hike.” The idea was magical. Strangers gather in a parking lot and begin an evening hike. We hike during dusk, watch a sunset together and then descend as the sun sets, guided by the luminous glow of the full moon. Sure we will bring headlamps, but almost more as an accessory, because, after all, full moon will light our way.

When we arrived at said parking lot, our anticipated crowd of 20 or so fellow hikers turned into more than 80. My friend and I looked at each other with confidence.

“Well, we don’t really need guidance, do we now?” Not wanting to be stuck in a crowd of hikers, we decided to forge ahead on our own.

The leisurely start to our walk gave us false bravado.

We sat on a rock and looked over at the hillside that spread out below us. Magical, we thought. But sunset was nowhere to be seen. The promise of woods and hills covered in soft orange glow was not meant to be, because it was cloudy. This might wreak havoc with our descent plans lit by the soft glow of the full moon. Never mind, we thought.

We were committed to both fun and survival of the activity.

Darkness was falling and the moon or - other hikers - were nowhere to be seen. We donned our headlamps and that’s when I realized some items simply shouldn’t be purchased from a dollar store. I I assume condoms, pregnancy tests and - as I learned - headlamps.
At first glance, my lamp was competitive enough. But upon even the subtlest glance down at my feet, the lamp aggressively swung into my face, blinding me. I embraced the challenge, vowing to invest into a better lamp immediately upon my return, should I survive. One added element of danger was my friend’s walking sticks. She was ahead of me, swinging her walking sticks wildly with abandon and in her enthusiasm forgot my presence behind her. This led to a couple of near-misses wherein the sticks nearly got my eye, which was already partially blinded by the poorly designed headlamp. Our walk was elevated to an adventure.

We quickly realized why this was not the trail to take during the dark. As we semi-blindly scrambled down the hill, through a creek bed, skipping across slick stones to traverse across a full-on brook, while climbing over muddied fallen logs….we knew we had chosen the path less traveled.

Covered in mud and dirt with bruises that have yet to blossom, we at last spotted the end. From the other end of the forest, we saw the group we were trying outrun.

Like a cult on their way to a sacrifice, 80 headlamps emerged from the forest.
They seemed perfectly clean.