Lost

Not like the TV show—not, at least, in the sense that I was in some way metaphorically lost. I just ended up on the wrong trail while mountain biking. No crash landings, no monster in the woods, no colorful survivors; no, just lost in the back woods of rural Oregon. Okay, there was a fairly profound moment toward the end that made this more than a jaunt in the woods.

I’m in Oregon for Thanksgiving to celebrate my 10 year anniversary.  I brought my bike up here so that I could work off some of my Thanksgiving calories as an escapte should things get too wild and crazy (at last count, there is 21 people staying in a 1200 sq/ft home).

Today I was trying to connect Ash Creek Road to Shoe String. My topo map didn’t have completely accurate information, so I based my navigation on a local resident’s (read: father-in-law) advice. He instructed me to take my first right and that I should expect part of the trail to be over-grown with the typical Oregon flora (poison oak, blackberry brambles, etc) but that eventually it would turn back into a forest road and I could connect my loop.

The trail was beautiful. Slightly damp bed of leaves, smooth floor, beautiful scenery and no one else riding.

Oregon double-track

After a half mile or so of this lovely trail, it ended at the crux of a wash. Looking closely, I thought I could make out the remnants of a road bed across the wash going in the opposite direction. I dismounted and hiked through clawing blackberry brambles to the crux and then around to the opposite side of the wash. In my way stood an enormous felled tree trunk completely blocking my path.

Trees in Oregon. They're EVERYWHERE.

I shoved my bike underneath and clamored over the slick, moss-covered top and hauled my bike out on the other side. I mounted and rode for maybe fifty yards before overgrowth prohibited further riding.

For the next hour/mile I hiked-a-bike on an ancient road bed that was almost completely overgrown with saplings and brambles. At times I made little forward progress as the evergreens slapped at my face, the deciduous trees dumped leaf-gathered water down my back, and blackberry thorns snagged my clothing and skin.

Knowing at some point that my “trail” would turn back into a road (per my father-in-law’s instructions), I continued.

All at once, the former road bed ended and I was faced with an encroaching hillside on the left that buried the road bed and drifted toward the right to cut off my path. If I continued it would force me to walk along a 30° slope or slide down a slippery slope into a stream some thirty feet below me.

I looked around found nothing indicating a further path. I took stock of my situation and decided that I could turn around and chop though the woods the way I came, or hope against hope that somehow by moving forward my path would be illuminated.

As in all things, I believe our God provides us these situations to teach a lesson, or illuminate a type or shadow of some greater truth. In life we are oft-times presented with obstacles that prevent us from moving forward uninterrupted. At the suggestion of people we trust, we follow some impossible path through life’s thorns and damp. We may wonder why we chose the path in the first place. We eventually arrive at a decision that seems to suggest our struggle was for not and that there is no point in moving forward for the road is impossibly blocked. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, we put our trust in Him and move forward into the impossible; He rewards us by showing us the way and enlightening our path further and sometimes easing our struggle.

This was the literal case today. I looked to Him to know what to do and felt impressed to move forward into a tangle of evergreen saplings so thick I could hardly walk. I saw clearly that the road bed ended with no semblance of a trail in sight. After only a few feet I looked up and to my left and saw what looked to be the edge of a fairly established road embankment. Surprised, I pushed through the foliage, climbed a steep hillside and using my front tire as a very dull machete, pushed through thick blackberry thorns out onto an established forest road.

Ta-da! Exiting the forest.

I pushed through onto a small bramble-free road and spent the next hour happily tooling along glad to be out of the rough.

After anther thirty minutes I turned around and found that the road I rode on connected to the main Ash Creek and that I could take it directly home.

Rolling off the mountain I found that I was bleeding in several areas thanks to the plethora of blackberry thorns in my path. My mother-in-law insisted I wash with soap designed to wash away poison oak oil in case I had walked through any of it while bushing whacking. (No break-outs yet, knock on wood.)

Amazingly didn’t suffer a flat tire. I supposed that after riding over so many thorns and using my front tire to cut through brambles that it would have suffered at least a small prick. I can’t say the same for my arms and legs, however.

In addition to the insight I gained by traveling that particular road, I had an amazingly good ride.