A Spirit in the Forest

A Spirit in the Forest

I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I needed to do it anyway. I was searching for something that would help me process the past six months. It had been a horrible time. My mother was diagnosed with a neurologic disease and rapidly lost her ability to speak and to recognize her family members. She experienced terrifying hallucinations, day and night. Mom passed away a month ago at the age of 71.

My sister and I had planned a weekend hiking trip from Thornton Gap to Swift Run Gap on the Appalachian trail. Having previously hiked the 35-mile trek with my mom and sister, we knew how beautiful it would be this time of year.

Mom had enjoyed hiking the trails of Shenandoah State Park throughout her life. Before her illness, we had discussed returning to the forest to see the stunning waterfalls and incredible overlooks again. As an amateur photographer, I always attempt to capture the majesty of an area. But the trip with mom was not to be, and now my sister was sick with the stomach flu and unable to hike with me. She urged me to reschedule the trip; however, I wasn’t willing to do so. Now I was on the trail alone.

I had everything I needed for a weekend in the woods. My backpack was crammed full of extra clothes, rain gear, non-perishable food, a first aid kit, and bear spray (although I really hoped I wouldn’t need it). I had a sleeping bag attached to the pack that had a comfort rating for temperatures as low as 32 degrees.

I was anxious to see the waterfalls and glorious vistas before temperatures fell. I was also anxious to stop thinking about how my mother suffered during her illness. I hoped I would find peace of mind in nature. It was also a homage to my mother.

The first few hours of the hike, I rushed from one site to the next. I would stop briefly to take pictures of the pine-covered hills, small blue lakes, and wispy-clouded sky then move on. By noon, I stopped for lunch and to rehydrate. The scenery was gorgeous, but truth be told, I was preoccupied missing both my sister and mom.

As I walked along a side trail leading to Dark Hollow Falls, I heard the crack of small branches breaking. I’d like to say I made noise so whatever was there would flee but instead, quietly journeyed off the trail to see what was there. It turned out to be a small herd of white-tailed deer in a clearing, mothers and their babies. I pulled the camera out of my pack and began to shoot. The deer calmly walked through the meadow stopping now and then to nibble the sweet grasses. I can’t explain it, but they pulled me along with them. I paid no attention to the direction I was walking. All I thought about was getting a great shot for the next photography club contest.

“Don’t wander too far from the path dear,” my mother’s warning came to mind. As I moved to a better position for the next shot, I startled a flock of turkeys who had been feeding nearby. They scattered, flapping and flying in all directions, including right at me. I jumped back, lost my balance and tumbled down a steep hill. I’m not sure how long I lay on the forest floor. After coming to my senses, I surveyed the damage; a few scratches, not too deep, and several bumps which would be black in a day or two. I reached into the front pocket of my pack to retrieve my cell phone. No service.

When I attempted to stand, my left ankle gave way. Great, I thought as I plopped back down in the leaves. I knew the only way to find my way back to the trail, was to climb this slope.

“Don’t panic,” I heard my mother’s voice. She seemed to have whispered in my ear, but I knew that was impossible.

First things first, I thought as I dug through my pack to find the first aid kit. Wrapping the ankle with an ace bandage provided some relief. But where was my compass? After rummaging through the pack several times, I decided to remove everything. “It’s got to be here, it’s got to be here,” I chanted aloud. Realizing I hadn’t zippered my pack after retrieving the camera, I knew it must have been lost in the fall. I looked around me but only found a pair of my balled-up socks which managed to escape my bag.

That’s when I first noticed the scent of roses. I looked around but couldn’t see any bushes. Mom had loved roses; they were planted as a border in her small yard. The scent inspired me to begin climbing the ridge. I wanted to discover where the aroma had originated.

The trees in this area grew close together. They were mainly oak trees, and I rested on their sturdy trunks before hopping to the next one. Sometimes, I was able to make progress by grasping longer clumps of grass or vines as they meandered along the ground. When I arrived at the top of the first ridge, I sat down to rest my ankle for a few minutes.

I continued to hop along until the sun began to set. I placed my sleeping bag under the boughs of a sturdy pine whose needles served as a comfortable cushion. Fortunately, ibuprofen was available in the first aid kit. It helped reduce the ache in my ankle.

The next morning, I detected the scent of roses once again and made a final push to the top of the hill. Despite the familiar aroma, I couldn’t see a single rose bush. Nor were there any flowers or flowering trees. That was odd. Well, guess the origin of the scent was going to remain a mystery. I had more important questions to answer, like deciding which way to go next.

I looked across a wide meadow and saw a spectacular sugar maple. Many of the leaves had already turned a brilliant red. Although it seemed a little early to see this, I decided it was a sign of the direction I was supposed to go.

When the sun lit the leaves from behind, they looked like numerous dinosaur tracks suspended in air. Mom would have loved seeing this tree, I thought. As much as she loved all the colors of fall, scarlet was her favorite.

My first task is to find a stick to help me walk, I decided. It didn’t take long before I found a straight oak branch on the ground at the edge of the woods. I picked up the branch and leaned on it to see if it could take my weight. Success! The stick held me, and I began to cross the field toward the sugar maple tree.

A strange thought occurred to me then, was mom guiding me out of the forest? As a serious scientist, I didn’t believe in the paranormal. Spirits, extrasensory perception, and psychic abilities seemed to be no more than hocus pocus. True, science failed to have all the answers, but at least their theories were based on solid, scientific assumptions.

I had to admit, the belief in life after death would have provided me with great comfort at this time. And, let’s face it, there was no logical explanation for the fragrance of roses in this area. I looked across the field again and the sugar maple tree was so red it looked as though it had caught fire. Sounds crazy, but I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off it. My walk across the field was slow and tortured, especially when my stick or right foot hit a rut or hole.

I managed to scare more than one rabbit from its home as I hobbled along. They were adorable and scampered away in all directions. Sometimes, all I could see was their white tail as they dove into their underground home. The younger ones were startled and would hop in circles, reminding me of a dog chasing his tail. I smiled despite my situation. I pulled the camera from my pack hoping it was still in working order. I wanted to catch some of the action, but it was impossible to deal with the walking stick while snapping a picture. By the time I was ready to shoot, all the rabbits had scurried into hiding.

When I reached the tree, I was shocked. Instead of being filled with red leaves, it only had a few. How could this be? That was not what I had seen. It was a breathtaking fire-engine red just 30 minutes ago. I took a few steps back into the meadow to survey the treeline. Had I managed to stray off-course when watching the rabbits? No, this was the tree that had guided my way.

Before leaving the meadow, I tried shouting for help a few times hoping someone would hear me. No response. I checked my phone again. No service. I smirked remembering the words to an old country song, “If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” I sat down to eat breakfast before deciding which way to go, hoping a little brain food would help.

As I sat there, I heard cardinals singing in the pine trees off to my right. My family has always had a strong connection to cardinals. It was my dad’s favorite bird and was even carved on his gravestone. He had passed away a few years before my mom. Many Native American cultures believe a cardinal is a sign that your deceased loved one is nearby. I must admit, I hoped it was true. The logical side of my brain argued it was just a folk tale.

I rested for a few more minutes before heading north toward where I heard the birds singing. You know you don’t believe in these superstitions, I thought. Well maybe just a little. Perhaps it is an unproven theory like many scientific hypotheses.

The trees must have been full of these red beauties because their harmony continued until I reached my next stop, a small stream. My ankle was throbbing, so I decided to soak my foot and ankle in the cold water. The relief was fantastic! I noticed the swelling had begun to affect my foot as well. Gravity, you’ve got to love it, I thought. I took more ibuprofen and realized the pill bottle would soon be empty. It was hard to imagine continuing to walk once this painkiller was gone. I lay back on the grass waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in and briefly fell asleep. By the time I woke up, my foot had dried in the sun. It was a struggle to pull my shoe back on. Better not take it off again.

I took a deep breath before continuing my journey. The air was so clean and fresh in this forest. Must be all the oxygen released by the trees. I noticed some dandelions were blooming nearby. In a few days, they would turn into fuzzy balls and be wafted away by the wind. If only they were ready now, I could make a wish to find my way back to the trail. Oh, the irony, I chuckled. You don’t believe in a spiritual presence yet believe your wish can be granted by floating dandelion seeds.

Which way now, I wondered as I stood up. The second I put weight on my walking stick; it broke in two, dumping me in the grass. I hopped to the next copse of trees but found nothing useful. Nature had been good to me so far, but was my luck running out?

I spotted another stick about thirty feet away. I started toward the stick when I heard an ominous rattle. The words, Danger Will Robinson, popped into my head as I stopped in place. Where are you, my friend, I wondered.

The last thing I needed right now was a timber rattlesnake bite. I knew they liked to sleep under rocks in the heat of summer, but it was not very warm today. Could it be lying in the sun to warm itself? I looked around and saw the culprit on top of a large stone about six feet away. I hopped in the other direction to put some distance between the snake and I and then zagged back to the stick that had caught my attention. It looked much sturdier than the last one and was my height. Yes, this will work perfectly, I thought as I freed the stick from the vines which were surrounding it.

I made my way to the top of a small ridge and saw a wonderful sight. It was a meadow filled with pink, white and purple asters. Flying from one flower to the next were hundreds of Monarch butterflies. They must have stopped briefly to refuel before heading south to Mexico for the winter. The scene was incredible! I had no choice but to grab my camera and try to take pictures once again.

I succeeded in capturing this scene. Either I was getting better at balancing on the walking stick, or the butterflies were moving slower than the rabbits did. I decided it was a combination of both.

I could not wait to share my pictures with my sister, assuming I would find my way out of the woods. Mom would have loved seeing this meadow. She had planted butterfly bushes in her yard several years ago. They were sickly at first, but Mom nursed them back to health. Two years ago, the bushes were in full bloom and mom photographed Monarch butterflies visiting them. “Never give up on nature, and it won’t give up on you,” she said to me.

As I made my way through the woods, the sky began to darken. Rain was coming. Maybe it will pass over, I thought. I decided to set up a camp under a fully leafed tree once I was done hiking for the day. The tree would help shield me from the storm if it started to rain. Unfortunately, it also increased the risk of being struck by lightning. I had no other choice and placed my pack under an oak tree.

Plunk, plunk, plunk. An oak tree was not the best idea after all. I was being bombarded by acorns. This was not going to work. I scanned the area for a maple and found one much further north. As I experienced the last indignity of an acorn bouncing off my head, I retrieved my gear and hobbled to the maple.

I could hear a small disturbance ahead to my left and crawled to the edge of the woods. It turned out to be a herd of deer that had not yet bedded down for the night. Were these the same deer I had begun to follow, I wondered. If so, maybe I’m not too far from the original path. The deer were feeding at twilight, blissfully unaware of the impending storm and my presence.

I returned to my small camp and slipped into my sleeping bag. The rain began sometime later. The angry grey clouds present earlier in the evening had passed over us and we received a gentle rain. I guess the deer knew more about the weather than I did.

Sometime during the night, I dreamt of my mother and awakened to tears spilling down my cheeks. A greyish-white mist was covering me. I reached out and touched it. The mist was warm and soft. It felt like…like love. Mom is it you? I wish I could say she answered “yes” but the truth is the mist dissolved a brief time later and was gone. The scientist in me demanded I sit up and look for other pockets of mist nearby. There were none.

I started to walk at first light. In less than an hour I was back on the path to Dark Hollow Falls. My phone was working now, and I called for help. Two Park Rangers arrived a brief time later in a four-wheeler. They loaded me in, and we were on our way.

I called my sister from the hospital emergency department. She was a little freaked out when I told her about my badly sprained ankle and being lost in the forest. She had no idea I had a remarkable story to share with her. I wanted to wait until we were together for that. Linda traveled to the hospital to see me

Linda has always been much more spiritual than I, and she listened to my encounters with an open mind. “It was mom,” she said after hearing about the roses and the lack of flowering plants. “You know how she loves scarlet sugar maples,” she confirmed. The butterflies and cardinals were metaphorical icing on the cake. And the fog was sweetest of all. “You don’t know how much peace this brings me,” Linda said as she hugged me.

Despite the fall and pain in my ankle, this had been one of the most enchanting and enlightening journeys of my life. I now know life continues after death. I had experienced my mother’s spiritual presence in one of her favorite places on earth. There was no doubt she had been with me. There was no doubt she had guided me out of the woods. There was no doubt that despite death, she was protecting her firstborn.

I will always miss my mother’s physical presence, but I know she is no longer the frightened woman tortured by horrible hallucinations. She is herself again, the woman who embraced nature and her family with love, kindness, and knowledge.

THE END