Scott and I were so excited to go hike Governor Dodge State Park.
We’d been talking about going for years, and I am not exaggerating. The park is not quite an hour from our house, so just far enough away that we could never do it spur of the moment, which is always when we have time to go hiking. But it’s also not so far that we weren’t a little ashamed of the fact that we had never been in the nine years we have lived in Wisconsin.
So we finally made it: we headed out on a Sunday afternoon just as the temperature was starting to break so it would be a bit cooler for our hike.
And then we got to the park, walked up a little hill to the trailhead, and discovered that the trail we had been waiting so long to take was closed.
Closed.
We had driven an hour to hike a trail that was closed.
So what does my husband do? Walks over the little trail closed barrier and keeps on hiking.
And I followed.
And we had a lovely time hiking up the cliff and taking photos. Until we went to find the trail to head back around the other side of the lake and we couldn’t. There was no trail. It just did not exist.
So, we hopped on an ATV service trail, knowing it had to take us to some form of civilization.
And we walked, and walked, and walked.
At this point, I got a bug in my eye, was sweating so badly my sunglasses were accumulating condensation, and was curious if we were heading in the right direction or not. Nature 1,000,000; Abbie 0.
Scott adamantly declared that he was sure that the ATV trail connected with the horse trail in just a little bit. He was sure. As the ATV trail kept swinging east and south, unlike north like I wanted it to, I had time to think. And worry.
Much to Scott’s credit, we did butt up with the horse trail not long after, and as soon as we knew we were headed back in the right direction, I realized what I had been worrying about.
I was not worried that we would run out of water.
I was not worried that we would actually stay lost.
I was not worried we’d run out of food or daylight.
No. I was worried that we would be caught. We would be caught, and we would be punished and we would never be allowed to hike in state parks in Wisconsin again.
This is what I learned about my self that day: I would rather BE LOST IN THE WILDERNESS FOR DAYS than be found a rule breaker.
And this, dear readers, is the sum of my childhood, my young adult life, and even my adult life until this point.
I am a rule follower.
So, the hike that could have ended in true mortal disaster only gave me anxiety because I thought we’d get caught.
At least the finale was lovely?
What about you? Are you a rule breaker, like Scott, or a rule-follower like me? Any specific instance in life where you knew undoubtedly which one it was?
P.S. I’m pretty sure this reinforces the fact that I am the real-life Hermione Granger.
