It's was early fall in 1994.  The morning air was brisk but temperatures rose quickly to a more comfortable range by noon.   I have willingly placed myself in a situation where I'm wandering alone in an evergreen forest with no defined trails to follow.  Although I had worked up a bit of a sweat,  I soon felt a sense of nervousness that’s best described as a constant and unusually cool breeze on the back of my neck.  I was on a wilderness land navigation course and at some point along the way, I became misplaced.  Misplaced is a more acceptable way for an experienced land navigator to say he was ‘Lost’.  Previously I posted tips  about how to prepare for and handle a situation where we might become lost in the wilderness.  This is my lost story and the invaluable lessons I learned.

Trained Up

Prior to this experience I had the benefit of several years of classroom and field training using a map and compass.  In High School and College ROTC, I had learned to plot coordinates on a map to within five square meters.  I had experience doing nighttime land navigation with red filtered flashlights.  I had never been lost in the woods and had confidence in my tools and skills.  However, being solo and not knowing where you are in the middle of a vast wilderness is an unsettling  feeling.  From this experience, I can understand how someone can quickly find themselves drastically off course.  Driven by the natural tendency to get back to a place of security.

The Conditions

Our military science class was on a weekend field training exercise.  We had been training in some other skill earlier that morning so the land navigation training course started around mid-day.  We were on a military base and the wilderness area for land navigation was expansive and isolated.  It was an unremarkable overcast day but no rain was in the forecast.  As customary, we had our safety briefing prior to starting the navigation course.  Almost everyone was an expert with a map and compass because we had all done this many times by now. We learned to trust the training and our equipment and until this point, neither had failed me. 

The Mission

The goal was to physically find all the points plotted on the map from the coordinates provided.  However, each 'found' location has the coordinates to the next location.  Therefore, success builds upon success.  I would  later learn that failure also builds upon success although it doesn't do you much good in the moment.  There were about ten other people on the course but they were scattered around the woods, seeking a different sequence of points and starting at staggered times.  This was done to prevent collaboration and ensure self reliability.  If I were to get significantly off course, I could be misplaced and not see another person for quite a while.

Off Course

I was confident.  But was I overconfident?  I previously had no reason to feel any other way about setting out on a landnav adventure. In fact, as an added challenge some landnav excercises were given a very limited timeframe for completion. This was to test the application of our skills under stress.  I started off well and with a determined pace as usual.  I was following my azimuth, dog-legging (navigating around an obstacle) where necessary and tracking estimated travel distance by counting my steps.  There was a large tree in front of me directly on my path of travel.  As I approached, I saw a snake near the base of the tree in a patch of sunlight.  I stopped, deducted from my step count totals to account for my immediate reversal.  It went something like, 9,10,11,12…..12, 11,10,9,8,7.  I dog-legged the snake and ended up back on azimuth on the other side of the tree.  I reached my first point and was on my way to success.  Remember when I said 'success builds upon success'?  Between my first found point and finding my second point something happened.  As the distance between points expands, precision becomes even more important.  The precision of my efforts began to decline.  I was no longer tracking as I was accustomed to doing.

Lost

As you travel from point to point in the wilderness you should regularly stop and make sure you are on course.  General rule is to 'shoot' an azimuth to a fixed point on your path, travel to that point and then shoot and go to the next point. Repeat until you reach our destination. Each time I stopped to confirm my direction of travel, the confirmed direction of travel was different than what I expected.  The area was heavily wooded with limited sight distance. I thought a slower pace would improve my accuracy so I did just that. Perhaps I was moving too quickly and losing track of my target points.  I continued adjusting my direction of travel to the compass readings and at some point I lost track of my travel distance. I never found my second point.  

At this point I was so off course by making repeated incorrect directional adjustments. I couldn't get back to the first point I found.  I could not  make the necessary correction to either find the next point or shoot a 'back' azimuth to return to base and live to fight another day.  I was lost.  Queue that constant and unusually cool breeze.  It's truly a strange feeling and in a word can be described as fear. Or anxiety. Or in two words; anxious fear, or fearful anxiety.  Take your pick.

Fortunately,  I decided to stay put for a bit and listen.  I can't prove it but I'm fairly certain my ears were pointed up and rotating directionally like an alert German Shepard.  Listening for any sounds of life.  I had the assurance of knowing that I wasn't the only one in the woods. Someone knew I was out there and I would be missed.  I was unaccounted for and I wouldn't be left behind.  However, that didn't immediately take away the anxiety of being lost and alone in such a vast wilderness. I took an extended look at my map to get a general idea of my location based on my last known plotted location and estimated distance of travel.  Considering what I thought I knew and that the direction I 'guessed' was correct led into more dense wilderness, I decided to stay where I was.  I can’t recall how much time had passes but i’m sure it was shorter that it seemed. Some time later I heard rustling in the distance. Faint rustlings grew louder and that cool breeze on the back of my neck warmed. As I stood there trying to look as cool as the smoke from dry ice,  I saw a familiar face that was headed my way.  Crisis averted, but you know that already since you are reading this story.  We made our way back to camp.  I humbly followed with ‘my hat in hand’. More importantly, I was now in possession of a few lessons learned, neatly stuffed in my back pocket.

What Happened and Lessons Learned

I later realized the compass I was using had a problem.  I would describe it as sticking.  My compass didn't consistantly  give the same readings as the others we later compared it to at base camp.  The floating element of this military style compass was not moving as freely as it should have been.  

I didn't take the time to be absolutely sure my equipment was functioning properly.  I rushed through the pre-work.  Since success builds upon success, this was a major contributor to the problem.

Yes, I was a bit over confident. I had never been lost, had hundreds of hour of classroom and field training and I knew how to use the tools.  As the famous poet Robert Burns once said, " The best laid plans of mice and men, Often go awry". Something can always go wrong no matter how well you prepare.  

I didn't take the time to notice and be mindful of handrails.  In landnav, handrails are geographical characteristics or boundaries that help guide you and indicate when you may have gone too far or made a wrong turn.  For example your destination on the map shows that a lake should be on the right during your trek and that crossing a dirt road just past the lake means you have gone too far. Those are two handrails that work in unison and serve as a general navigational guide.

 The decision to  stay put and work out a possible plan was essential and prevented me from roaming too far afield and extending the time in my lost situation.

 I do realize that this scenario was not as life threatening as it could have been.  Afterall, In the  back of mind I knew I wasn't all alone and that I would not be abandoned .  Not because I was particularly important but because the liability to the organizers for leaving me was too great.  I also had plenty of water and some reserve food which we always carried.  However, I was reminded of a very important lesson to never be over-confident. Nature can be unforgiving if you get into a bad situation.  Success is not always guaranteed.

For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment...Romans 12:3