Little Boy Lost (3)

 I awoke at sunrise and was alert enough to realize that I was still lost. I’m trying to understand my 12 year old self, and believe that he did not panic but certainly felt anxiety. He (or I) was certainly not sure what to do. For some reason I think that I had read somewhere that following downstream would get to civilization eventually. It may be true but in my situation yesterday I had hiked 3 or 4 hours on the wrong trails and had more or less traveled in circles. I had slept where I ended, and it was likely that I was no more than a mile or two from the scout camp. I didn’t know which direction, but I could see a creek a few hundred yards away. Since I had not brought my canteen I was thirsty and went to the creek; the water was clear and thankfully pure. And here I made my decision to follow the creek downstream.

   Thinking back 73 years I believe now that I made the wrong decision. Since I was near a source of good water and I was probably a couple of miles from the scout camp, I could have found a comfortable place to sit and wait for the other scouts to find me; even if I had to sit and wait for a day or two.

   Ah, well! When I had hiked 40 or 50 miles and walked out of the wilderness a week later there were numerous newspaper articles and interviews which emphasized the rugged trek, and I found no mention of the fact that it would have been easier on me, my traumatized parents, and the many other searchers if I had simply sat and waited.

   So, about noon on Saturday, August 9, 1952 I started downstream following a small creek which I later learned was Cherry Creek. The night before I had laid my fishing gear down near where I slept, and I did not think about it until I had started my trek. At least it made some sense in not trying to carry it while scrambling over rocks and through brush. Even if I had caught a fish I had no way to cook it, since the few matches in my pocket were damp and would not strike. (It was years later when I ate raw fish - sashimi - in Japan. I didn’t like it).

   So the trek began, with no food, only creek water, jeans, an old shirt and a light jacket, and almost worn out loafers and a boy scout knife.