I figured I'd write up a conclusion before I headed off to bed, since I kind of left the last post hanging without one.
I didn’t know what to do as I crawled out of my hammock and walked out on to the trail. I thought at first I might be able to call out to him, lead him back in the right direction. I knew it was a futile attempt, but I tilted my head back and yelled as loud as I could. “Halooo!” My voice cracked through the stillness of the night. I suddenly felt very alone and unwelcome out in the woods. I remembered the old man saying that his father used to run cattle, and I thought about the summer several years before when I had worked on a cattle ranch. The ranch hands had a call they would shout out into the pastures to call the cattle in. For some reason, I felt compelled to give it a try. I tried to remember the call as best I could. I rolled the sounds around on my tongue a few times until it seemed right, and then I yelled it out. "Yahuaah! Yahuaah!” There was no answer other than a single short echo, and silence. There was no more yelling that I could do, I had to start moving.
I really wasn’t sure which way to go. I could head deeper into the scrub and hope to catch up with the old man, or I could head back to the parking lot and go for help. I might even have signal to make a phone call there. I decided to head back to the parking lot; besides, the old man could have walked back to his car and driven home hours ago. If there was no other vehicle in the lot, then I’d know he made it out okay. I could just be wandering around in the middle of the night for no reason. But I didn’t know for sure, so I started walking. I got lucky with the moon. It wasn’t full, but it was bright enough to reflect off of the sandy trail and keep me on course. It leapt out from the darkness of the palmettos on each side, and led me back to the trailhead.
My pace was quick, nearly a jog. I had decided not to break camp in the interest of saving time, and so I moved freely down the trail. I figured my hammock and other gear would be fine left on its own until I could get back to it. It was nearly sunrise when I arrived at the parking lot. I had practically run the last mile, and when I reached the fence, I put on hand on it to steady myself and leaned over to catch my breath. When I looked up, my heart sank. There was an old silver Cadillac sitting next to my own truck, empty.
My first instinct was to grab my cellphone and make a call for help. No signal. I climbed into the cab of the truck, and threw my phone down onto the floorboard in disgust. I knew the gate leading onto the trail was locked, but now was not the time for padlocks. I brought my truck up to the gate, and eased forward into it, hoping to break through. The gate held, and my tires spun in the sand. I backed up and took a slow running start this time. The gate bent and strained as I drove into it, but again, it held. I backed up farther this time. I floored it, and the truck hit the gate hard enough this to snap the the chain with a loud pop, and the trail in front of me went dark. My headlights had been busted out against the gate. I drove down the trail by the light of the moon.
I drove as fast as I could down to my camp, as fast as I could go and keep my truck out of the brush on either side of the trail. While driving by my hammock, I did a double take, and slammed on the brakes. The truck slid sideways in the sand, and came to a rest straddled across the trail. Hanging from the larger pine tree, just above my hammock suspension, was a straw hat. I got out of my truck and stepped forward for a closer look. The hat had been roughly woven from palmetto leaves. Just then, the zipper on my bug net slid down,
The old man leaned his head out through the opening and grinned. “Well this was as far as I could make it backtracking after I realized I was heading the wrong way. It sure is a good comfortable place to give out.”
I couldn’t believe it. A wave of relief washed over me as I helped the old man out of the hammock. “I thought you were dead!” I stammered.
“I did too at one point a few hours ago when I was walking up this way. I could’ve sworn I heard my father calling in the cattle. ”
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H.Y.O.H.
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