Lost in the Forest

It was the second marriage for both of us.

We argued into the night and said terrible things to each other we both knew we could never take back. The marriage had imploded.

One thing that was agreed upon, it would be me vacating the marital dwelling. Normal separation protocol would be to get a hotel room or an extended stay, or maybe couch surf for a while. But I owned 20 woodland acres overlooking the Gile Flowage, and had previously built a traditional Finnish sauna, privy, and cleared a tiny area for parking a camper there.

I chose to get lost in the forest.

I could not sleep that first night out and sat at the picnic table until nearly sunrise sipping on first one can of beer then half of another and munching on some very nasty and stale chips that were foraged from the camper. Sleep finally came.

A few hours later, stepping out into the new forest morning revealed the chip bag shredded into a million tiny pieces like confetti and spread all about the campsite, and the half-finished can of beer had the end shredded off, was punctured, and emptied. Apparently, my new neighbor, the bear, had the same tastes as I.

In the subsequent days, the bears rewarded every lapse in attention span by trashing my stuff.

In Wisconsin if the parting is reasonably amicable and there is agreement on the details, a divorce can be finalized after a 90-day waiting period. Not so fun fact-if the parting is not amicable, lawyers will fight a prolonged proxy war at $150 per hour each.

90 days came and went, summer gave way to autumn. Then one autumn day, summer unexpectedly reemerged for one last summer hurrah, prompting a walk along the beautiful Little Girl’s Point Beach. Unannounced, my granddaughter raced up from behind and gave me a big bearhug, and a bottle of beer spilled into my lap. We had a good laugh and chatted and visited then parted ways.

Once back at my campground, the beer-soaked shorts were spread out on the picnic table, and an afternoon catnap was in order. Suddenly the sound of the picnic table creaking under a heavy load prompted a half-awakened glance out the open window. A black bear was atop the picnic table licking and gnawing on the beer-soaked shorts.

I opened the camper door, and the bear did an almost arrogant Super Man leap from the table with the shorts clenched in teeth. That was just too much, that was the last straw. I shouted, and the bear bolted and raced into the woods, and I trotted in after him shouting like a lunatic. The shorts were dropped. And they were cheap knockoffs, not hardly something worth chasing a bear into the woods over. Walking back to the campsite with the bear spit and beer-soaked shorts in hand came the thought that this black bear; this noble, this majestic creature, was really kind of a dick.

The only way in and out of the campsite that first winter was by snowshoe or snowmobile and there is nothing colder than a travel trailer in the Lake Superior snowbelt forest on a subzero night.

The lawyers lawyered and then spring came. The judge judged and the divorce was finalized. I had navigated through this by getting lost in the forest, but now had to think about navigating this new future.

This meandering path of getting lost was crossed by others finding their way along their own winding paths. Some of those wanderers taught the beauty in not conquering nor altering the forest but in becoming a part of it. Some of those wanderers helped retrieve a few pieces of a broken heart.

After much soul-searching came the decision that I should forever remain right where I was.

It is coming up on six years since first becoming lost in the forest. A cozy off-grid cabin, a workshop, and a nearly half-mile long road for year-round access have been built. That road, by design, is quite long and winding. Folks ask a lot of questions about this new life, about living off the grid. An awkward question often asked is “do you drop the deuce in the woods?” My reply always is, “occasionally, if only to spite the bear that occasionally drops the deuce in my yard”.

Previously I lived in a world difficult to navigate despite being thoroughly mapped out and preprogrammed, and felt frustrated by finding nowhere to quite fit in. Yet now I have found inner peace and tranquility and the absurdity of seconds and minutes and hours are meaningless in this place where time is measured in seasons.

Previously I could not figure out how to make either of the two marriages work or last. Yet somehow, I now manage to peacefully coexistence with random bears roaming around the forest.

I am exactly where I belong