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EIGHT

GETTING LOST

We’re not lost. We’re locationally challenged.

— John M. Ford

I have to work hard to get turned around in the bush, or disoriented, and I’ve been in that situation on a few occasions, but I’ve never actually been lost. There have been times when I wasn’t quite sure of my exact location, usually while travelling in the Far North where the topography is often dead level. I once sailed down the coast of Hudson Bay in two canoes tied together, at night, with the use of a compass only; granted, full darkness was brief, but during that time the only indication of my location in relation to the shore was in the rocks I would run into while the tide was going out. It was unnerving, especially since polar bears like to hide behind boulders, and it was almost a relief to bounce off the odd rock with the assurance that the shore was less than a kilometre away. But there were moments of mild panic when at times we seemed to be straying off the course with no sight references to go by. Others had perished on the Bay doing what we were doing — the inimical coast and its deadly winds are unforgiving.