PS on getting lost in our woods

I find it fascinating to realize that I can be totally lost in the woods even though I know exactly where I am. I mean, I really knew more or less where I was, much more "more" than "less." If I'd had a map I think I could have found my way out pretty easily, even if I weren't on a trail. But I don't really know how to bushwhack, and I'm not quite sure how to go in a straight line in empty woods. I mean, of course I could have just gone back the way I'd come, assuming I remembered which turn-offs I'd taken. But I didn't want to do that at all. It would have meant a much longer walk, like going all the way around Prospect Park because I couldn't figure how to cut through the middle, and I was already tired. And I didn't really have the time.

I kept picturing the entire conservation land spread out on a map. In my mind, I could see the Mountain Road entrance in Florence, and the lake, and the dam, and the meadow where we saw moose poop last April. I could see the house with five garages that's just yards away on the other side of the Marian Street Trail. I even imagined I could figure out how to get over there if I just walked in that general direction. But I also had a sense that I could get lost, very, very lost, if I strayed from the trail, and wander around in circles. I lacked confidence that I actually knew what I was doing in this darn woods.

I don't have that sense when I'm in the city, where I really feel utterly at home (or at least I did when I lived there. Less so now, truth be told). Maybe I never allowed myself to get so far afield, or maybe it's all familiar, grided out in a logical manner, with buses and subways at regular intervals; even Brooklyn's odd layout makes sense.

Or maybe it's that I knew it so well, after living there so long, that it took a lot more real exploration to risk getting lost. I need to cogitate this one. It's hard to start anew in some ways, but it sure keeps you on your toes.