Dont fret I have lived in NYC for almost 5 years, I got on the wrong train I take every day yesterday lol. Getting lost is almost like a bi-weekly chore
Haha, so true! I lived there for eight years and still got lost pretty regularly. There were a couple of places I could only find when I was lost.
It’s a little more challenging in San Francisco, because hills. It’s still a great way to learn your way around, but ouch.
No matter what, at the end of adventures while lost, there should be good food.
Still waiting for your buddy’s info so we can send him postcards saying “You made your band Batlord miss out on Berlin sightseeing ages ago!”
On a slightly serious note, why the band name?
Always good food, its the real pot at the end of the rainbow
If you ever find a guy named Dieter in Reseda, CA, that’s him. He’ll probably be the only Dieter there.
As far as the band name goes, we dressed up like vampires and played garage rock. All the songs were spooky and about death. It was “goth lite”. We went over well in Greece and Germany.
Agree. It hardly feels like lost because you’ve found something…amazing, exhilarating, you weren’t looking for. I think this serendipitous way to travel is wonderful though not for everyone(can be v stressful). We had a similar experience in Munich where we ended up at a fabulous little italian family cafe near St Anne’s church in Lehel eating carpaccio on a pizza, having another great beer surreptitiously watching the World Cup on their tv, one summers evening. Bliss. Mind you, in Munich I was always catching the tram in the wrong direction…coming from Australia and only ever having travelled to countries with drive on the left, it quite did my head in a few times especially at the end of a day’s exhausting gadding about to galleries, museums and churches.
Coming from rural Australia, not getting lost is part of your psyche…as some of our favourite myths and yarns are about lost children (as in every good faery tale, Grimm or otherwise)From this childhoodof gothic proportions comes a stranger danger film seen in primary school where two girls were abducted, murdered, one assumes from the final shot of their bodies disposed of in the bush. Thankfully long vinyl boots from the 70s are few& far between but these two pairs figured large in my childhood imagination. I recalled an actual episode of a child lost in the bush, not far from our town. It also loomed large in my recollections. I can even recall listening to the radio news at my great grandparents house…strangely though i recently discovered the infamous story happened a decade before I was born…i can only surmise a similar incident imprinted itself on my brain. The catalyst for all this is Peter Weir’s film Picnic at Hanging Rock, seen when I was eight or nine well before I’d even read Joan Lindsay’s slight novel. Still puts the hairs on my neck when the doomed girls rise into the granite tors to the tune of pan pipes. My response to this movie and the sense of self in the landscape lost or otherwise, is to be the theme of my next artwork for film festival exhibition on favourite films.
My first year at New York University, I thought I could get back to my dorm in Gramercy from the East Village by walking. Grid system, right? Turns out my memory remembered the wrong street and the wrong avenue and I panicked when it came to deciding whether I should turn left or right and that’s how I ended up walking for an hour in one giant loop going around Astor Place.
We met for the first time just a few hours before. She was completely covered in tiny red bug bites. I was sick to my stomach. The sound of the oars splashing and slipping through water reminded me of alligators and water moccasins slithering and sliding. I had no doubt some would near.
We had been probing the mangrove maze for what seemed like hours. All we could see was a wall of green shrubs, blue water, and sky. There had to be a way out. But how to find it? The sun was getting low in the sky, and our phones had no signal. The canoe rental place would be closing soon.
We would pursue one turn in the maze, where the water seemed to be flowing, only to end up at a dead end. We would retrace our steps, over and over, never really sure if we had been down some path before or if it was the 5th time. Finally, we came to a concrete wall. I clambered over the mangroves to the top of the barrier. Over the barrier was a steep drop, and then a massive channel used by cruise ships and tankers going to the port. Behind me was an endless stream of green and blue; the mangroves just seemed to keep going, with no obvious exit in sight.
My new found partner extended a paddle, and I walked along the barrier, precariously dragging the canoe through the mangroves. Finally we reached the edge of the maze. The only option was to dump out into the giant canal and brave the current of ocean-going ships, to paddle back towards where we came - but this time, not taking a shortcut through the maze.
As we paddled, we tried our phones to see if we had service. When we did get service, we would briefly be connected to the canoe rental place, only to have the signal cut out. We still had no idea how to get back, and it was almost dark. We kept paddling and paddling. At last a call came through and the signal didn’t slip away. The canoe rental owner helped guide us back from whence we came; we probably weren’t the first tourists lost in the wilds of Fort Lauderdale’s unending canals.
By the time we got back, night was just falling. We clambered out of the canoe, grateful to be back on land. After that ordeal, only one thing could soothe our nerves: a bottle of Patron Silver, some limes, and a hot tub.
I haven’t seen her since.
My ex-husband and I flew into Albuquerque then drove north to visit family in Pagosa Springs, CO in 2005. We were given something like a Ford Escort and a crude map at the car rental place and off we went, with the snow already starting to fall. The snow started piling up, and somewhere west of Taos, the road we were supposed to take had a “road closed” sign. But there was nowhere to stop for directions, and without any idea of what we should do instead, we proceed through closed road. Our rental car map did not show elevation, and we soon realized we were climbing up a mountain. I was somewhere around 12-14 weeks pregnant, no cell phone service, and was starting to get pretty nervous as the road conditions were horrible and we were in such a tiny car. As he drove, I kept an eye out for houses in case we had to stop. Then we passed a house that’s entrance had a dummy hanging by a noose with a sign that said “we do things the old way,” and it seemed like a very, very long time before we passed another house. Once we reached what we believed was the peak before starting to wind down, we stopped the car to kick the built up ice off around the wheel well. The way down the mountain was slow and steady, and I have to give my ex-husband credit, he remained calm and got us back on a main road safely. To this day, that’s the closest I’ve felt like I may die.
OMG you are me lol. My first day at CUNY I saw I was at E42nd st and said oh my school is w. 42 I probably just can walk down the street. Got above ground and realized nothing looked familiar I basically circled the block and went back into grand central lol. I also had a tendency to not to want to look like I had no clue where I was so I would get off trains turn right and just walk until I got my gps right lolol
My mum and I (Canadians) were driving from Dunedin to Invercargill in New Zealand, we had no cell service, and the weather turned bad quickly. It went from sunshine to torrential rain and our satnav kept trying to get us to take a highway that was closed. We followed the road signs towards the detour, but missed the turn itself and made a circle. We had to stop at the only house for miles around and ask for directions. They kindly told us and we got underway to the detour that added over an hour to the whole drive. We made it to Invercargill just before nightfall, but it took much longer than expected and we were pretty relieved to be there. Believe all the stories about the South Island, folks!
Not just for you Canadians! We’re from the antipodes and took a family holiday ‘across the ditch’ (pronounced ‘detch’ if you’re a kiwi) and also got lost on the South Island. You’d think being from mainland Australia for the most part and island Tasmania more recently, we’d have distances worked out, like migratory birds…but no. We had a small campsite in mind on the coast also between Invercargill and Dunedin and drove for hours in the dark, (pre gps, &maps prove useless between spouses) not knowing if we were even on the right road. Eventually we came to the end of a road, to a paddock, stopped and set up the tent, bit worried we were on private land as we could hear sheep(not a NZ joke) close by. Bailed the kids in and went to sleep. Woke at first light to see the sheep just on the other side of a fence only a metre away, everything else hidden in a bank of fog. Went back to tent to snuggle then after an hour got up to see the bay and amazing coastal cliffs which I drew in my sketchbook while everyone else slept. Discovered later that is the setting for the castle used in first Narnia movie. (A lot of NZ like that apparently or maybe it was our trip with 3 young kids on board)
Forget about Bermuda Triangle, the Catlin Triangle of NZ is real!
Nova Scotia 2017
Believe it or not we were heading towards an old reconstructed fort this day-we don’t usually like these “touristy” type things, but everyone said it was a “must-see” and we didn’t want to miss it. So we headed out on a day trip of about 70 miles. It was a very windy day and on the way we couldn’t help but make lots of stops to see the wild waves along the coast. It was at one of these stops where we got out to take some photos of a lobster boat trying to pick up his traps in the big swells. It was very cold and windy but another couple stopped their car and got out. We assumed they were other visitors and also wanted to watch nature’s action. We talked for more than an hour (all of us yelling in order to be heard over the sound of the winds and crashing waves), and freezing in the unusual cold. They told us of a few places that would be interesting for photography and also told us of a local place to get lobsters. We thoroughly enjoyed the conversation and all the information and when we finally asked them where they were from, they told us “about 10 miles from here”! They told us they saw us with cameras and assumed we were tourists visiting their province and wanted to make sure we would see all the sites they thought were photographic but not known to many visitors…I was shocked but later realized the people who live in the Eastern Provinces are just that way-they live amongst beauty and want to share all they have! We continued our trip, abandoning the fort and headed for the lobster wharf…on the way we found this out of the way lighthouse and made one more stop before picking up freshly steamed lobsters that melted in our mouths! I’m so glad I didn’t listen to my Mom when she always said, “Don’t talk to strangers!”
I’d moved to central Florida from the Midwest, partly to change my life and partly to explore swamps. It was on a hike in the Green Swamp with my wonderful dog that I got very lost.
The day was warm but completely overcast. The swamp was a mix of low palms and palmetto growing on flat ground with fingers of shallow water interspersed. We were deep in when some wild boars came after us. I’m not a good climber but I ran to a likely tree and somehow got up into it. The boars took off after my dog after realizing that they couldn’t reach me.
I sat up there for quite a while until my dog came panting back from the opposite direction he’d run from. He was fine. I waited. No boars. I slid down and started back to the car. But I had completely lost the direction. No compass. No map. (Stupid, yes.) No sun. No road sounds. No idea. I felt that panic that a lost person feels but put it back down. Then I said to the dog, “Let’s go to the car!!”
He got excited and headed off in a beeline. I followed. I had to skirt around several fingers of water, and yes there were snakes and alligators. After a long while, we came to a drainage ditch. I knew that there was such a ditch near the parking lot. The ditch was fairly deep and there were alligators. I made my way along the ditch until I came to a fallen tree. I scooted across that and above the ditch was the entry road to the parking lot, built upon a berm. The dog just swam across. My car was maybe 100 yards away.
(This same dog led me down from being trapped after a two-day snowstorm on a ridge in the Oregon Cascades.)
Wow. ‘We do things the old way’ had me quite confused, worried, a bit muddled.
As an Albuquerquean for the past 40 years, I’ve loved exploring the Land of Enchantment and look forward to a lot more…then I thought about the communes and hippie colonies I’ve heard about in that general area, maybe it was a creepy emblem from a weed-whacked-out person who’d gone a little over the top. Thanks for the story.
This is beautiful! I love lighthouses!
Great story! And an amazing dog!
Lost in Desroches (Seychelles): One of my most perfect travel days . . . No roads, only footpaths on this island. Thought I’d go for a walk. Sort of zoned out looking at giant spiders, birds, coconuts. Soon, I have no clue where I am! Well, it’s an island; if you go to the edge and circumambulate, you should get back to where you started, right? Not to worry, I have my backpack—water, camera, sunblock, a towel. Woman alone with nature. Play tag with sand crabs. Play tag with the ocean. Find red coral. Whew. Those sand vistas are deceptive. What looks like a short walk takes an hour, then another, and another. Soaked in sweat, covered with sand, exhausted, but I found my way back. It was great.
Thank you for sharing your story, @penelopeashe! I’m going to move your story over to the main thread regarding getting lost, here: