Earth Day Revisited

Jenean’s post yesterday reminded me of something that happened to me a couple years ago on Earth Day. A friend, also named Rob, and I decided to join a group on a hike across one of the last wilderness areas in south Florida. The hike was several hours through some challenging territory – as I was to find out – and the organizer, David, was concerned that some of the people didn’t look very well prepared. He wanted everyone to understand that that it was not an easy walk.

He saw that I was wearing a hydration pack, figured I was experienced on such treks, and asked me to help him keep track of the others. I readily agreed, but then found out that meant I had to walk in the rear, so no one got left behind.

That wasn’t a good thing to request of me, because I tend to walk fast and pull ahead, rather than hang behind. But I agreed and kept pace with the slower walkers – or so I thought.

After an hour, we took a break. David counted heads and realized there was one person missing. We narrowed it to a woman visiting from Hawaii, a New Age-type who had been talking about her power animals before we started out. She’d also pointed out that a preying mantis had alighted on my shoulder, and told me that meant I would have an interesting hike.

I was sent back to look for her. I trotted more than a mile, didn’t see her, and figured she must’ve turned back. David wasn’t pleased that I’d let her slip away, and I couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten behind me. We waited a few more minutes, then moved on.

After awhile we came to a wide, shallow stream and searched for signs of the trail. We walked up and down the bank, but had trouble seeing any marker on the other side of the stream.

Just as I spotted what appeared to be an orange X on a tree across the stream, I turned to see the Hawaiian woman. I asked her where she’d been, and she said she’d been talking to a guy she met on the trail. That sounded strange, because we hadn’t passed anyone walking in the other direction. But maybe someone had caught up to her from behind.

I was ready to move on and didn’t bother asking her anything more about it. Instead, I waded across the stream and a couple of college girls, who figured I knew what I was doing, followed. I got within ten feet of the far shore when I saw the so-called marker was just a natural formation on the tree, probably lichen – a combination of algae and fungus. I took another step and started to sink. Within a few seconds I was up to my hips in mud. The girls screamed, turned, and hurried away.

I tried to move forward and mud came up to my waist and I was still sinking. Finally, I lunged, grabbed a tree root dangling from the bank and pulled myself out. By then, the others had found the trail and everyone had crossed the stream at the proper place without incident. I joined them wet and muddy to my chest.

My friend Rob greeted me with a bottle of water, and wondered aloud if I was better at the holding the rear or trailblazing. “Maybe you should stay in the middle.”

While none of the preceding sounds much like Jenean’s story, it’s actually a long introduction to what came next. After another hour or so of hiking through mostly dense forest, we took a twenty-minute break. The path had merged with a horse trail and, as I sat in the shade of a large live oak tree, several riders passed. A few minutes later, a solo rider came along, stopped, got off his horse, and stretched. He was Native American, reminded me of Graham Greene, who played one of the lead roles in Dances with Wolves. He had long silver-streaked hair and wore a straw hat.

He looked at my muddy clothes, and when I told him what happened, he said he knew the place and said that his horse had nearly gotten stuck in that muddy stream a couple of weeks earlier. We talked for a few minutes about the area and he rode off. I joined the others, as we gathered to set off again, and I mentioned to several people that I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten caught in that mud. I related the story and added, “And he’s an Indian,” as if that somehow lessened my mistake.

David said, “What Indian?”

“The guy I was talking to on the horse with the straw hat.”

Everyone looked mystified. Except the Hawaiian woman. “That’s the guy I was talking to, way back there. He’s a very interesting man.”

With that, we moved on and I had the feeling that David now figured there were two crazies in the group. I joined my friend, Rob, and said, “You saw him, right?”

“How do you know he was an Indian?”

Not exactly the confirmation I wanted to hear.

We continued on and finally came to a paved road and walked the last mile to a park where there was food and a variety of Earth Day activities.

While I eating at a picnic table with several from our group, I spotted the horseman walking through the crowd. No sign of his horse. I got up and went after him, but couldn’t find him. I went back to the table, glad that I hadn’t said anything about who I’d seen.

Rob and I hung around awhile, then caught a bus that was headed back to the park entrance where we’d left our car. After about half a mile or so, the bus stopped and picked up someone standing on the side of the road. To my amazement, it was HIM. No horse and taking the bus. He sat right across from Rob and I, and I greeted him like a long lost friend. He started talking about composting, going into details on the proper way to make compost from vegetable matter. It was like he was offering an Earth Day lesson.

As we got off the bus, it occurred to me that Rob hadn’t said a word while I was talking to the man. He’d just stared ahead. We walked to the car, and I was about to say something about composting, referencing the conversation, but I stopped short. I decided I wanted to keep the incident somewhat mysterious. Or maybe I was concerned that Rob would say there was no Indian on the bus. I’ve never asked him about it. I think the man was real, flesh and blood, but that there was also something mysterious going on that day.

As we drove away, I looked in the rear view mirror. I saw the horseman looking my way and to my surprise he was standing next to the Hawaiian woman.
– Rob
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