A boulder as big as a house. That’s how the guide book described Giant Rock. Dad said it was carried here by a glacier millions of years ago. I was finally going to see it, on snowshoes, with my three older cousins, my dad, and my uncle Don. I’d been snowshoeing before, and I liked the adventure of trekking through deep snow alongside wild-animal tracks. At the parking area, after putting on our snowshoes, we studied the map in the informations kiosk. “We start here,” Dad said, “on the red tail. Then we turn left onto the purple loop. That’s where Giant Rock is.”, “Remember to stick together, guys,” Uncle Don said. The trail ran uphill alongside a stone wall. It was easy to follow because red markers were nailed to the trees and the snow had been packed down by other hikers, At the top of the hill, we turned onto the purple trail, which wound back and forth, traversing the hills and gullies. We settled into a rhythm, with Dad and everyone else in front and me in the back, crunch-crunch-crunching through the snow. My cousins were faster than I was, but I managed to keep up., The late afternoon sun felt warm, although it was already sinking lower. I saw lots of animal tracks - mostly deer, squirrel, and rabbit prints, which I recognized from my field guide. As the trail zigzagged on, my cousin Andrew said what I’d been thinking: “Will we ever reach Giant Rock?”, Finally, we crested a hill and saw the massive boulder sitting alone in the forest. “It really is as big as a house!” my cousin Josh said, gazing up. My cousins and I high-fived each other and jogged down the slope until we stood at the base, breathless. Standing in the boulder’s giant shadow, I noticed the sun had dipped even lower. “Let’s head back,” Dad said after a few minutes. Soon we were crunch-crunch-crunching our way home., I was a little behind the group when I noticed a set of animal tracks I didn’t recognize. They were hard to see among the snowshoe prints, so I followed them off the trail for a closer look. There were no claw marks, which meant they didn't belong to a dog or a fox. Instead, they looked like tiny handprints and footprints. Must be a raccoon, I thought, matching them to the prints in my guide., I looked up when I suddenly realized how quiet it had gotten. I was totally alone. “Hey!” I shouted. “Where is everyone?”, Nothing. Just the sound of my own breathing and the hammering of a woodpecker echoing in the bare woods. They couldn’t have gone far, I thought, stepping back onto the trail. I’ll catch up to them if I hurry., I came to a junction where I could turn left or go straight, but both trails had purple markers. The path to the left looked familiar. But when I stepped over a log I thought I’d seen before, something told me I was going the wrong way. So I reversed direction. My mind started to race. Soon it might be too dark to tell what color the markers were. And I couldn’t just follow my own footsteps because there were so many tracks from other hikers., It seemed to grow darker by the second. I had no flashlight. No phone. I began running. What if I couldn’t find my way back? I started tearing through the woods in a panic, watching as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Then I came to a crossroads. Which way should I turn? Stop, I told myself. Think. I pictured the map again. To get to Giant Rock we had turned left onto the purple loop. To get back, I needed to do the opposite and turn right onto the red trail. If this didn’t work, I’d do what I had always heard you should do in a situation like this: stay put, and let your group find you., I heard voices, someone calling. Then I noticed the stone wall, the trail running alongside it. This HAD to be right. I plugged downhill in giant steps. And then, the best sight ever: the parking lot - and my family! I ran toward them. “Luke? Are you OK?” Dad’s voice was urgent. He shined a flashlight in my direction., I’d only been lost for minutes, but it had felt like forever. Now all I wanted was a bear hug from Dad and to make tracks for home..

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