The Call

Nature's Wrath

Since returning from hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail, it’s been a bit hectic; mostly catching up on neglected tasks and healing my broken body. The hike went rather well the first 4 days. I slowly built my daily pace from 15 miles to 30 miles over that period. Unfortunately, the fifth day on the trail found me descending several good sized climbs. “But, that’s good isn’t it?” one might ask. Yes and no. Too much downhill puts strain on knees and all muscle groups on the front of your legs and ankles. Ever hear of shin splints? Long story short, I finished day 5 in some pain, especially after a lot of downhill was followed by a lot of technical scrambling over rocks and fallen trees. That particular stretch of trail threw everything it had at me: uprooted trees, poor trail conditions, rock scrambling, more river crossings, and ice storm damage. I was finishing up the trail on day 6, planning my return leg and how I could lighten mileage for 2 days. Unfortunately as the day wore on, my legs were getting more sore and swollen. Rather than injure myself, I called an audible and decided I’d seen the entire trail and there was no sense in suffering through the whole trail again. After all, I was out there to enjoy the peace of the outdoors, not injure myself. Besides, 5 1/2 days of hiking, 165 miles, and countless beautiful vistas had sated my hunger. I did not want to make that call. Nobody does.

I read this morning that a gentleman and his young son were missing after their capsized boat was found on a local lake. I’m certain that a Saturday fishing trip had been planned and was highly anticipated by father and son, both. I had another outdoor adventure tentatively planned the same day as well. When I looked at the forecast and saw the gusty winds and a chance of rain, I decided that better weekends were waiting down the line. I wish this gentleman had done the same. This lake is notoriously rough in windy weather. One August afternoon, my wife and I rented a small fishing boat for the day. We took off down the lake and fished coves near the marina. The little 10 horsepower motor wasn’t intended for traveling far. We were wrapping up the day across the lake from the marina when a storm came in. If you’ve ever found yourself in an aluminum boat on a lake with lightning, you know how I felt. I decided that making a b-line for the marina was the best call. As we crossed the main channel of the lake a gust front from the storm had whipped the water in to a frenzy. I pointed the nose of the boat in to the face of the waves that were easily 3 to 4 feet in height. As I narrate this story, I’m picturing the movie, The Perfect Storm. The little boat would climb to the top of the wave and the nose would crash down the other side, my wife yelling out each time her backside and the aluminum seat came to rest against the lake’s surface. I repeated this maneuver several times, each time throttling the little Evinrude to the top and backing off as the craft descended the backside of the wave. This incident is etched in my memory. What probably lasted less than 10 minutes seemed like forever and could have turned in to eternity for our friends and family. It saddens me immensely to consider my dad getting that phone call so close to his birthday. Spring is leaving her card everywhere I look. The daffodils are up. The tulips will be flowering soon. Birds are serenading me each morning on my runs. Get outside, but don’t be afraid to make that call.

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