By Rebecca Lee Benjamin 

It was 1am when I spotted the police car blocking my vehicle. “Are you Rebecca?” he asked, more jovially than expected, considering the hour. “I sure am!” I called, preparing to deliver my explanation. 

About 17 hours prior, I excitedly set off to conquer Big Indian and Fir. An ardent aspiring 3500 club member (now proud #3066), the lack of hiking companions available for this escapade wasn’t discouraging. My enthusiasm didn’t completely outweigh my instincts; I notified 3 friends and 1 husband of my plans, and they had called this friendly officer. 

The hike began with familiar feelings of elation, relaxation, and appreciation our beloved Catskills freely provide. I bounded onto the trail, eagerly signing in. 

I immediately began to lose time for all sorts of reasons, silly and non. Then, there was the realization I had dropped my GPS. Bushwhacking between Big Indian and Fir. On a hill covered by leaves. With no trail. 

That’s where I spent most of my time. This was not a GPS for hiking; I was relying on it to drive home - I grabbed it as back-up, tucking it into the pouch of my pull-over. My enthusiastic bounding was too bouncy! 

Against all odds, I found my GPS, but lost my daylight. This became a nighttime quest. At Fir, it was decidedly dusk. There wasn’t service. There was, however, that canister! Lost hours did not detract from my pride in signing. I was navigating through forests... as an indoor-based, easily lost young-adult, this was progress! The Catskill 3500 Challenge inspired me to learn. 

Proceeding through the woods in darkness was an... experience. I adjusted plans, since I intended to head towards Big Indian’s trail, but feared I would miss the turn in darkness. I decided to bushwhack, tackling obstacles directly between myself and my car. In the dark. By flashlight. There were opportunities aplenty to demonstrate my most majestic moves, as I tossed my pack and scrambled after. I’d trudge along, my light slowly revealing the enormity of the boulder fields. Positive self-talk was crucial. “Nothing makes me happier than climbing boulders!” Mud. Sweat. Scrapes. Bruises. My whole leg was swallowed by earth. Stinging nettles attacked for the last half-mile, though I was too stubborn to give up so close to my vehicle! Noticing a tarp, I wondered if I encountered a murderer’s burial grounds. It became evident I was just exiting the woods through a farm. I attempted to silently creep past chickens when I heard someone. 

I immediately held my flashlight up for illumination, identified myself, and sheepishly announced my intended destination. They chuckled and helpfully replied I was a stone’s throw away. 

Thankful no stones were actually thrown, I happily met my officer, and explained my adventure. I woke my husband to report my safety before embarking to triumphantly return home. 

My body never felt so sore; my shower so inviting. And I never felt more like I earned the title “hiker.” I’ll wear it proudly, plan carefully, and perhaps, invest in pockets with zippers.