A Long Night in the Catskills

Intro

My Uncle Chris and Aunt Nancy, on my mom’s side of the family, have a house in Kerhonkson, NY; which is in the Catskill mountains. The house is full of stuffed bears and deer heads, big couches, a pool table, and a ton of guns and bow and arrows. It’s a complete man cave that would serve as the ideal zombie-apocalypse hideout. As you might’ve guessed, Uncle C is a big game hunter. He, along with my cousins Conner and Chris Jr., can shoot and kill a deer, string it up on a tree branch, skin it head to toe, harvest the meat, and then throw it on the grill for dinner. They are real manly men. I love them to death.

While I was growing up, my family and I used to drive up to the mountain house from New Jersey every once in a while, especially during the weekend post-Thanksgiving. “We’re goin’ upstate!”, we’d excitedly say as kids.

Many years later, as an adult living in New York City, the mountain house became the perfect weekend-getaway for me. I’d go with whoever - cousins, friends, or even by myself with my aunt and uncle. I absolutely love being there. Hiking in the mountains, drinking bourbon and playing pool, and just breathing in the mountain air in Uncle C’s backyard are things I’d always look forward to before heading up.

However, in early 2020, I moved to Los Angeles. Because of the move, I thought I’d probably never see that house again, or at least not for a very long time. It’d just be logistically tricky to get there for a few nights when I’m only able to visit my family in New Jersey once or twice per year. 

But on Christmas evening this past year (admittedly after finishing a couple bottles of wine with my family), I happened to hop on a FaceTime call with Uncle Chris and Aunt Nancy. After wishing my siblings and I a Merry Christmas, Uncle C mentioned that he was about to head upstate for a few days and that we were, as always, welcome to join. This possibility got me very excited. I had just gotten into town from LA and didn’t have a car, so all I had to do was convince my little brother to drive us. Late the following evening after dinner, JP and I packed up his car on a whim and headed up to the mountains.

Daylight Drop Off - Whiskey, Pics, and Good Vibes (~3pm)

I’ve gone hiking every single time I’ve visited the upstate house over the years, usually with my siblings or cousins. Typically, we start in Uncle C’s backyard, hike down a rocky trail until we get to the river, follow it for a mile or two, then turn around and head back downstream toward the house. I’ve always been able to know when we’re close to the house based on a couple distinct landmarks: a big wide open area in the woods where the terrain flattens out, and as I get closer, there’s a cluster of 4-5 massive trees that mark the beginning of the quarter-mile-or-so trail back up to the house. Although, when Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast in 2012, trees were uprooted and knocked over throughout the Catskill mountain range. This caused the entire area to have a much more wild look to it; the terrain became tougher to hike through and the landmarks a bit harder to notice. But fortunately during many post-Sandy hiking adventures I was with my cousins Conner or Chris Jr.; they know the trails so well that I’d just follow them along as we went exploring. One time a few years back, my cousin and I were dropped off on the far side of one of the mountains at a scenic waterfall area. From there, we followed the river all the way back to the house. It was a longer, but more scenic hike that took us a couple of hours.

The following afternoon after my brother and I arrived at the house, Uncle Chris showed up, along with a new guy named Mike. He was a friend of my cousin’s from Long Island, NY, who wanted to come upstate to hangout at the mountain house for the first time. He brought a bunch of steaks and a case of beer and we welcomed him with open arms. An hour or two after Mike arrived, we decided the three of us were going to head out for a hike. We threw on some warm hunting gear from the house, as we always do, and I laced up my Doc Martin boots. (I’d never actually worn them for hiking in the past, I just like them because they’re stylish and fit the city-living vibe). They seemed to be durable enough and I figured they’d work while we went exploring for a little bit. “Should I bring my phone?” Mike asked me. “Nah, you won’t need it. I’m gonna bring mine”, I replied. Once we were all suited up, we filled up a flask with bourbon and hopped into Uncle C’s car. Uncle Chris said he’d drop us off on top of one of the nearby the mountains to see the waterfall, and then we could hike all the way back, like I did a few years prior.

On the way there, Uncle Chris was rattling off directions and suggestions from the driver’s seat - “Make a left about a quarter mile down the trail and just follow the river.” “Or, you can go see the waterfall”. “Do you guys wanna see the waterfall?” Meanwhile, I don’t think we were really listening or focused on what he was saying. I was busy sipping my drink and getting acquainted with Mike, this new guy I had just met. I wanted him to feel welcome with my brother and I at my Uncle’s house and show him a good time up in the mountains. Him, JP, and I together were a motley crew. We had three starkly different personalities, but that didn’t matter. We were just having some laughs and happy to be getting out in nature for a change.

Next, we pulled up to a parking lot that marked the start of several trails, hopped out of the car, and off we went. “We’re gonna get lost”, my brother mentioned in a deadpan manner as we hit the first trail. Is he joking? Is he dead serious, but just doesn’t care? I had no clue what to make of that comment, so I didn’t respond.

Once we got to the waterfall, the vibe completely changed. We were three guys up in the mountains sipping bourbon, bonding, and just having a great time. It is absolutely majestic up there. Not a sound could be heard in the entire woods besides the rough flow of the water. For me, it was the perfect break from the hustle and craziness of living in central Los Angeles. I felt free and was having boyish fun. We climbed boulders, took pics, and hung out by the waterfall for a while. Eventually, we made a “left” like Uncle C said to. I found a nice walking stick and we hit the river on our way back to the house.

Sundown (~4:30-5pm)

We followed the river for an hour or two. The terrain was challenging to get through, as always, but noticeably more so post-Hurricane Sandy. There were steep slopes on both sides of the water, fallen down trees, areas of thick brush, rocks, boulders, and cave-like formations; all of which were covered in moss, ice, and snow. Some little sections of the river would take us up to fifteen minutes to navigate around. 

I started to come to the realization that my Doc Martin boots were not at all suitable for this kind of hiking. I stood no chance of crossing the water on rocks or a fallen-down tree given how little grip they had. My brother and Mike were able to confidently trudge through sections of the terrain that I clumsily slipped and slid though. Though, I love being out in nature so it didn’t bother me much.

Eventually, the sun began to set and Mike started to ask questions like, “Are we almost there?” and “How much further do you think?”. I couldn’t give him a precise answer, but I knew we must’ve been very close at that point. I kept looking for the distinct clearing in the woods that would signal our way out. But, all we found was more mountainous terrain as we kept moving forward.

As it was getting darker out, I was continuing along on the far side of the river, separated from Mike and JP. We were just within shouting distance over the loud, echoing noise of the flowing water. From across the way, I saw that JP had turned on his iphone flashlight to see in front of him, and I did the same. Soon I realized that it was quickly getting dangerously dark and the three of us would have to get together for safety. I kept following the river while looking for somewhere to cross, only to find larger gaps of water up ahead and behind us. I certainly wasn’t going to take a chance jumping from one ice-covered rock to another in these boots. After getting pressured by the guys to cross for quite a while and not seeing any other viable solution, I said “fuck it”, and plunged through a shallow area of ankle-deep water to meet them on the other side. Ice-cold mountain water filled my boots. Whatever, I thought, I’ll take care of it later. More importantly, the three of us were back together as pitch darkness set in around us.

The Phone Call

Have you ever heard someone say, “It was so dark, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face”? I feel like people use that saying to exaggerate how dark it is sometimes. But then and there, in the deep river crevice between the mountains, I did the official hand test just a few inches from my eyes, and I couldn't see anything. The three of us stood together waiting for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. Minutes passed. There was no moonlight, no stars, nothing. Just sheer darkness and the sound of the river.

Suddenly my brother realized he now had phone service and decided to make a quick call. Uncle Chris picked up immediately. It had only been a couple hours but I could hear the angst in his voice; he knew something was wrong. JP explained in just a few words that we were, surely and utterly, lost. Without a moment’s hesitation, Uncle Chris knew what to do. He instructed us that he’s going to grab his rifle and will fire three shots into the air. We were to sit still and listen to which direction the shots were coming from. From there, we’d have a point of reference to move toward. Then, we heard Uncle C say, “Ready... Set… Now.” We sat very still and listened. Five seconds passed, and then five more. Besides the constant trickle of the water close by, we didn’t hear a thing. “Did you hear it?” Uncle Chris asked. JP just sat there, holding up the phone on speaker, now completely lost for words. I grabbed the phone and said something along the lines of, “It’s ok. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Gotta go.” And hung up.

The reality of the situation we were in hit us like a brick wall once I hung up that phone. It was, honestly, quite scary. JP started hyperventilating and said he was feeling very lightheaded. I talked him through it as best as I could, assuring him that everything’s ok and that we’re going to be fine while we sat up against a tree in the pitch darkness. And almost right on cue, a mixture of rain and snow began to drizzle down on us from the trees above. Mike stood close by as the three of us took some time to rest and think about what to do. 

Apparently when you’re in a remote area and make a phone call, your phone struggles to find the signal to maintain the call, while rapidly draining its battery life. Since I’ve mostly lived in big cities, this wasn’t something I was very cognizant of. Between the three of us, we now had two iphones with less than 30% battery life each. We decided to keep our phones on airplane mode, and use them one at a time just for the flashlight; and our motley crew could begin to move forward through the pitch dark, snow covered brush and rocky slopes.

Game Planning and Trudging Forward

Shortly after the phone call, I realized one of us had to act as a sort of “leader” for our trio. Tricky decisions needed to be made and we had to get moving. So, I called for a vote on whether we should try to hike back to the waterfall, and from there we could hopefully make a call to get picked up, OR continue to move forward in search of another way out. I knew it would take us several hours to get back to the waterfall if not more, but at least we could find it. The problem was, we had gotten to where we currently were through the rough terrain and countless obstacles while there was daylight. JP and Mike felt that it would be nearly impossible to get back to where we started in this darkness. I lost the vote 2 to 1; they wanted to keep moving forward. So off we went, searching for a new way out, knowing that we’d most likely gone a few miles in the opposite direction from Uncle C’s house at this point.

I recalled from a couple years back something Uncle Chris had once said to me - “If you’re ever lost in the Catskills, you can keep moving forward in one direction for about five miles or so, and you’ll eventually find a house or a road. As opposed to the Adirondacks, where you could go 20 miles and still not find a house.” Thank God we were not in the Adirondacks. With that in mind, our plan was to keep following the river until we found a road, and from there try to make another call or somehow get a ride back to the house.

But before long, we realized that we couldn’t stay in this valley area and continue to move forward. We were stuck at a section of the river where on one side, the snow-covered rocks and boulders completely blocked the way and on the other, the terrain was almost a 90-degree angle upwards. On top of that, my iphone light illuminated only a few feet in front of us. So, it was time for another vote.

We unanimously agreed that our next move should be to climb straight up the mountain, perpendicular to the water, in search of flatter ground to travel on. On the way up, JP complained a bit about lightheadedness and hunger, which made me worried. At least he had thick, sturdy mountain boots. My doc martens couldn’t seem to grip one inch of this jagged slope. I crawled on all fours through the snow and leaves as we slowly made our way upward, grabbing onto trees and branches to pull me up where I could. The climb was intense and disorienting. A primal-like survival mode kicked in and the three of us were able to scale the mountain.

Once we got close to the summit, the slope leveled out and we found some flat ground to walk on. A tiny bit of moonlight began to show once we got up there, though we still weren’t able to move more than a few feet without my iPhone light guiding the way. Our sense of direction was completely impaired from the climb; we at least thought that we were now moving parallel to the flow of the water down below, but it was impossible to be 100% sure. Yet, being able to travel on flat ground for a change elevated our spirits. We began chatting and having a few laughs as we went. I wondered out loud how strange it was that we hadn’t come across one deer, bear, or any other kind of wildlife so far. It was hunting season after all and Uncle Chris was constantly showing us new footage of bears hanging around his backyard each night. “They all know where out here”, JP replied about the wildlife. “We’re three loud idiots wandering around the woods so they’re keeping their distance.”

False Hope: Sounds, Trails & Hunting Signs (~7:00-8p)

All of a sudden, we heard something. It sounded like a car driving by, somewhere far off in the distance. We stood very still to listen to where it came from, then started off in its general direction. A few steps later, we came across more steep terrain and thick brush; and plunged forward through it as best we could. After about twenty minutes or so of making our way through the brush, we heard another car sound. We froze again and patiently listened. The problem was, the second one sounded like it came from the opposite direction. And now, we were frustrated and unsure of what to do. Clearly we were all getting to be a bit loopy at this point. We had covered a lot of ground the past few hours and were way up in high altitude. I felt dizziness and lightheadedness slowly but surely coming on, which is probably why this realization didn’t dawn on me right away: We’re in the middle of a mountain range and there are roads that go up, around, and through the mountains… somewhere in the distance. It could have very well been one car that we heard multiple times, just at different points along a winding road. The car sounds also seemed to echo and not come from any clear single direction at all.

In the midst of this confusion, my brother stumbled into a tree with a large, square orange paint mark on it. He pointed it out and got very excited. Was it a sign for hunters?, I wondered. Or, was it just a land marker? We are so not woods people. It was something though. It was a sign of life. Whatever it was, we were beyond happy to see it.

Beyond the orange marker came another small clearing in the woods with an honest-to-god trail at the top of it. My adrenaline surged. At last, we found a trail. “Do you really think it’s a trail?”, Mike asked. I laughed aloud. It was a 5-foot-wide path through the thick brush that we were able to follow. It even had tiny white reflective objects nailed into the trees to mark the way. I know I’m an ignorant fool in terms of survival skills in the woods, but I do know what a trail looks like, and that’s what this was. But would it actually lead to a road or someone’s house? That was the real question. We followed the trail…. To a massive and dense patch of brush. To more woods. To nothing. It was false hope. Fuck the trail.

With sunken spirits and increasing frustration, we hiked back to where the small clearing was and just sat in the snow. We argued back and forth a bit. I told the guys that we’re going to be ok, and that we’re actually not in an emergency. We’re lost as hell, but we’re fine. If one of us were to get injured, then it’d be a real emergency. So, we’re going to have to keep being as careful as we can and continue trying to find a way out. But to make matters a little worse, my phone had recently died and we were now down to one phone light with a rapidly decreasing battery. I knew if JP’s phone died as well, it’d be game over. With no light to show us the way forward, we’d have to sleep in the mountains. I considered it multiple times. I didn’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world. We were bundled up in layers of hunting gear. Besides my frozen-numb feet from the river plunge, the cold temperature wasn’t even close to being our #1 issue. The darkness was the main obstacle. If we slept out here, we’d survive, and could get back to finding our way out at first light. We could even drink the water from the river if we really needed to, I thought. JP was not having it. “I’ll walk all fucking night, I’m not sleeping out here”, he said. Alrighty then, I guess that rules out that option.

Lights in the Distance

As we sat together in the dark with our adrenaline burned out and hope diminished, we suddenly noticed that there were a few speckled lights in the distance. They were blurry and far away on another mountain, but they were there. One looked like it may have been a large radio tower. Another, way off to the left of the radio tower, was maybe a house on top of the mountain. A third light appeared to be orangish in color. Why had these lights just come on now? It must’ve been almost 8:30pm at this point, but the sun was setting four hours ago. Were we just not able to see them before? Through our disorientation, we tried to figure out which one would be our best bet to venture toward.

JP and Mike started to obsess over the orange-looking light in the distance. Was it getting brighter? We pointed and stared at it for a while, trying to figure out what it was. JP was excitedly exclaiming that it was moving toward us. I honestly thought he was experiencing a hallucination. What could it be, a caveman carrying a torch? It really didn’t look like much of anything to me. But, we were desperate for help of any kind, so I gave it a shot. I shouted several times at it as loud as I possibly could (Finally, my two years of voice and speech training can get put to good use!) from the mountain we were on. After a few minutes it started to fade out of sight. 

So, our motley crew of three made the firm decision to aim for the “house” looking lights. I told the guys we’d have to go straight toward it, as best we could, down through the valley by the water, and then back up the other mountain. I knew we’d lose sight of it as soon as we went down the slope. But that appeared to be our only choice, so off we went.

Within minutes we were caught in the most dense, woodsy brush we’d encountered thus far. Mike led the way, barreling through the pitch dark, snow-covered bushes and trees like a soldier in battle, on a primal mission for survival. I later found out that he played football in college. Makes sense. JP (who had our last light source) and I followed closely behind. As we plunged forward, we were hit in the face, chest, shins, and knees by the branches over and over again. Tons of profanities were shouted out, mostly by me. But now we had a direct aim. And that gave us fuel to keep going.

After getting through the brush, we came up to a few boulders that we had to slowly and carefully navigate our way around. I was afraid that if we moved too quickly, we could step right off a cliff at any moment, and we’d never even see it coming. This was another disorienting physical challenge for us and afterward there was some debate over which direction we were supposed to be heading in. But, no voting was going to happen this time. I had a strong feeling of which way the house was and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Angrily, we continued forward.

The Pond/Quad Trail

We kept trekking forward until the woods began to clear out a bit. And… Then… We found something. We were looking at a big… Road? Field? We had no idea what it was at first. Then slowly but surely, we came to catch sight of - A POND (I’d never been so happy to see a pond before), covered in ice and snow. As we circled its exterior to the far side, we noticed a large shape in the dark that appeared to be some sort of structure. I walked right up to it and a small, private shed-like house was revealed. Finally, there was hope.

Then, we saw the signs. There were a ton of them on the trees surrounding the little house and they did not look welcoming. They read, “PRIVATE PROPERTY, DO NOT ENTER”. This caused us to hesitate for a few moments. We knew that every homeowner in the Catskills area has a gun, if not several. It’s just part of the culture and lifestyle out here. But what else could we do? Turn around and go back into no man’s land? Forget it. We needed help and this was our only option. I took a deep breath, then said, “Guys, whoever we see, just let me do the talking.” “Got it”, “No prob”, they casually replied. We were just happy to have a glimmer of hope to hang onto at this point. Beyond the little house, we found a rocky path that looked like a quad or dirtbike trail. We began hiking up it in search of anything or anyone, believing that we were now in the home stretch.

The quad trail got steeper and tougher to walk on as we went. And soon after we started, JP wanted to stop for a breather. The altitude was increasing as we walked and he said his head was spinning once again (He was about 25 pounds heavier than me and I knew that must’ve taken its toll). Mike, on the other hand, was getting frustrated and testy at this point. He was sick of the woods and wanted to get out ASAP, and I didn’t blame him. “Let’s just go bro we’re almost there”, he kept saying. In trying to accommodate both of them, I gave JP a few minutes to rest, then off we went back up the quad trail.

Nuno’s House Part 1 (~9:30pm)

We followed the quad trail until we saw a trickle of house lights through the trees. As we approached the edge of the clearing, we noticed that we were entering the back/side yard of a beautiful, isolated mansion. We were on a massive patch of private property somewhere on top of a mountain. Again, it dawned on me how sketchy the three of us must’ve looked here. Mentally and physically, we were a mess. We were dressed head-to-toe in hunting gear. We were disheveled, hungry, exhausted and very on-edge from our excursion through the mountains. “Guys, let me do the talking”, I quietly mentioned once again.

After clumsily tiptoeing around the side yard, we came to a large, wooden front porch that was lit up with bright sensor lights. Here goes nothing, I thought. I stepped up onto the porch while JP and Mike stood close by in the front yard. Then, I took a deep breath, and knocked a few times on the front door. No answer. So, I peered through a glass panel next to the door, waited a few seconds, and knocked again. “Someone’s coming”, Mike mentioned from a few yards back.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man’s face appeared behind the glass and I immediately began explaining myself in the friendliest tone I could muster. “Hi! My name’s James, and this is my brother and my friend”, I said, while the guys awkwardly waved hello from the yard. “We’ve been lost in the mountains and we need help. This is an emergency. May I make a phone call? We’re just trying to get back to my uncle’s house”. The man silently stared back at me, with eyes wide as golf balls, throughout my attempt to explain our situation. He was so shocked at what he was seeing, he looked cartoonish. His face was frozen in that expression for what must’ve been a 5-second count. Oh no, I thought upon seeing that look, this man is high as a kite. Or on some other kind of drug… This just got more difficult.

After a few painfully tense moments without any back-and-forth communication, I tried again. I said, “I’m James. What’s your name?” Maybe it was the nerves, but when he replied I heard something like, “Nuh-Nuh”. “Excuse me?” I asked. Again, “Nuh-Nuh!” “I’m sorry, Nuh-what?” “NEW-NOH”, he exclaimed in a dialect I couldn’t register at the moment. Nuno. Got it. He’s not American. Ok. And then he turned away from the door and disappeared back into the house. I glanced behind me at the boys. More tense silence. We’re off to a great start here.

“He’s coming back”, one of the guys said about a minute later. I turned to see Nuno had returned to the glass panel, but this time the shock was gone and he was dead serious. He began speaking to me, very slowly and carefully. “Do you have any guns?”, he asked. “No! We’re from New Jersey”, I nervously blurted out in reply. With his eyes peeled, he looked the three of us over while we stood in place and tried to act natural. I could tell the gears were turning in his head as he was making up his mind. After a few seconds he continued, “Ok, this is what we’re going to do… I’m going to drive you guys back –” “-- No it’s ok!”, I interrupted, “If I could just borrow your phone and call my uncle, he’ll come pick us up right away”. Without missing a beat, Nuno grimly responded, “He will never make it up here, the driveway is a half-mile long sheet of ice.” I took a second to process this, then Nuno continued, “My wife is coming in the car with us. She will be holding a rifle. If you try anything funny (as he waved his finger at the three of us), she will shoot you. OK?” I put my hands up in the air to show I meant no harm as I cautiously replied, “Ok, ok, we are not here for trouble. We are just trying to get home.” Nuno said, “Alright, I’m going to get the rifle”, and I nodded in response as he disappeared back into the house.

Now, Mike was starting to get testy again. The three of us were very tired and after all we’d been through over the course of the night, we did not expect to now be stuck at yet another obstacle. I understood that. But Mike was less patient than JP and I. He was at a breaking point. “Let’s fucking go, I’m fucking tired”, he exclaimed, while pacing back and forth in the yard. Oh God, I thought. This was not the time or place to be aggressive; I knew this behavior had to be addressed right away. But unfortunately, I didn’t have the presence of mind to sugarcoat anything when I spoke to him. I was far beyond being articulate at this point. So, I said quite sternly and simply, “Mike, this guy has a gun. This is a very tense situation. And right now, you need to relax”. That was the best choice of words I could come up with. And, all it did was set him off even more. It was like I flipped the wrong switch. Mike stepped up onto the porch, right in front of me, now yelling, “I AM RELAXED!”. Meanwhile, I had my hands up in the air once again, gesturing to him to calm down. This was not a good look for us. I was silently praying that Nuno didn’t hear what was going on from inside the house.

Right about then is when JP, who hadn’t moved an inch from his spot in the front yard since we got there, had mini panic attack #2. The thing with my little brother is, he’s never been one to say much. He is the kind of guy to drive past an upside-down truck engulfed in flames on the side of a highway and not even say a word. That’s just how he is. But when he does say something, people around him tend to listen. And as he stood there processing what was happening, physically shaking with glazed-over eyes, he quietly said, “This is sketchy. We should go.” Just by the croak of his voice I could tell he was close to losing it.

I listened to him while still trying to calm Mike down. Through my pumping adrenaline my mind was trying to rapidly assess the situation. This is dangerous. This could escalate. We could just walk away now… But where could we go? Find another house? Walk another few hours in the dark? I truly do not think we can make it down the driveway at this point. God help us, this is our best bet. This is what we’re doing and I’m sticking to it.

Nuno’s House Part 2

Then, Nuno reappeared from a corridor inside the house just within eyesight of where I was standing. I saw that he was walking back and forth while on the phone with someone. Is he talking to the police? Good, get the cops here, I thought to myself. Then he placed a large rifle on a countertop close by the front door, and turned the corner out of sight again. Ok then… No police. Just be cool, I thought.

After a few more unsettling minutes passed, I gave up trying to control things with Mike. I stood there and just listened to what he had to say, which allowed him to vent his frustration out. He calmed down a bit and then went back to standing with JP in the yard.

Like Batman, Nuno randomly appeared again from behind the glass panel. This time he said, “Ok, I have another idea - I’ve just spoken to my neighbor and he’s on his way over. Together, we’re going to drive you to your uncle’s place.” “Ok! Great. Let’s do it”, I replied. (What was I going to do, argue?)

Soon a massive Ram truck pulled up the driveway and parked at the top, while keeping its headlights pointed at us. At this point heavy exhaustion was setting in for me. I was depleted from the journey through the mountains and my last surge of adrenaline was quickly wearing off. I hoped this neighbor guy was someone I could easily explain the situation to. He sat in his truck for a few minutes (assumingly on the phone with Nuno who was still inside the house) while the three of us idiots stood together in the front yard, waiting.

Eventually, an old man who must’ve been in his mid 60’s, hopped out of the truck and walked toward us. I once again began explaining how the three of us came to be in this predicament, and that we were simply looking for help to get home. Almost right away, I started to get a sense that this was going to be ok. The man had a gentle, friendly charisma and I felt some of the tension ease out of my body as we spoke. He knew that we were sincere. Within a minute or two we were trying to pin-point exactly where the river must’ve taken us and how we ended up here from all the way back at the waterfall, according to his knowledge of the area. I really had no idea where we were, nor did I care to track our route at the moment, but I was happy to be having a somewhat-lighthearted chat with this old man. He must’ve been living up here for a long time because he knew the roads and surrounding area very well. He was a true mountain man.

I figured that Nuno was watching through the window while we were chatting, because he suddenly came out to the yard with three glasses of water for us. (I don’t think I’ve ever gulped down a glass of water faster in my life by the way). Then, his wife and daughter appeared from inside the house and looked out from the kitchen window. I put my hands together and made a gesture of thank you to them, while they gingerly smiled and waved back. It was a touching moment.

With the mountain man present as a third party, Nuno felt less in danger and we felt less sketchy; and the tension between us all soon cleared out. Two goofballs from the Jersey Shore, a football player from Long Island, a wealthy Frenchman, and an old mountain man were standing in the yard together, chatting about the weather. The motley crew was now complete.

We hopped into Nuno’s car and he drove us (inch by inch) in 4-wheel drive down the ice-covered driveway, while the mountain man followed in his truck. It was a very quiet car ride until Nuno goes, “Good thing this didn’t happen to you guys when it was warmer out. This property is usually covered in rattlesnakes, but the snow keeps ‘em away”. We just looked at each other in the backseat and shook our heads. We were too tired to even laugh. We called Uncle Chris from Nuno’s phone and he was able to meet us at an intersection about ten minutes away. When he pulled up I was so happy to see him that I felt like a little kid. We said our thank you’s and back home we went to warm showers and hot food.

Afterward

Once we were warmed up and somewhat-recuperated (my feet had turned a dark shade of greenish-blue from the river plunge), Uncle Chris pulled out a map of the mountain range and together we guesstimated the route we took. It was impossible to be exactly sure. Sadly, the “5 miles in any direction to find a road or house” advice I took to heart years prior wasn’t accurate in this case. According to the map, we were venturing close by an utterly massive area of state-owned land. If we continued in the direction opposite Nuno’s house, we could’ve walked for days with no way out. We got lucky.

While we were gone, Uncle C tried pretty much every possible way of finding us. He made phone calls, drove up and down the mountain roads for a few hours, and even tried to locate us via the “find my iphone” app (which I felt was pretty impressive for a baby boomer). What a great uncle. I had hoped we didn’t get him too worried.

What a crazy night it was. From the pitch darkness, to the steep terrain, to the mountain water in my boots, to our trio of three starkly different personalities, to the dying cell phone lights… Everything was an obstacle. At different points throughout the night, these obstacles felt like a sort-of test to me. It was obviously a shit predicament we were stuck in. But what was I going to do while we were out there? Complain about it? The real question was, how am I going to handle it? And, how am I going to conduct myself in the meantime? Luckily, my intuition was always there to help with these questions. It spoke to me and said things like: “Be patient.” “Be the leader.” “Make a decision.” “This situation sucks, but it’s ok.” “Just keep going.” My intuition always knew what to do, even though this was such a novel experience. I trusted it. Maybe “it” was the voice of God. I’m really not sure. But “it” was there, and that gave me strength.

I don’t blame Nuno for how he behaved when he first saw us. He was a man looking after the safety of his family. I probably would’ve done the same if I were in his position. He even called the next morning to check in and see how we were doing. Besides our bloodied shins, blistered feet, and aching muscles, we were never better. Mentally, I felt unstoppable. We really have no idea how far physically and mentally we as human beings can be pushed before we reach a breaking point. And even after we break or implode, we can choose to keep our chin up and keep moving forward. What I learned was, we’re so much stronger than we know we are. And, (despite what we see on the news) there are good people out there. If you open your heart to someone, and genuinely ask for help (even if it’s a stranger at home in the middle of nowhere), oftentimes they’ll oblige you. I’d bet that Nuno will never forget our random late-night encounter on his front porch, and neither will I.

JP and I still had another full day at the mountain house before we planned on heading home. For the first time since visiting when I was a little, I had no desire to go anywhere near the woods. I had enough time in nature for one trip. I barely stepped off the deck into the backyard that day. When evening came, the four of us just relaxed inside. We played pool, watched movies, had a few more drinks, and a ton of laughs. I felt an enormous sense of gratitude for being able to spend time with our small group of family and a new friend. I called my cousin, Chris Jr., to briefly recount what we went through the night before and to let him know that we’re all ok. “Welp, I won’t be hiring you as my tour guide up there any time soon”, he said.