I can laugh about it now, it's pretty funny how completely naive I was. And fortunate everything turned out okay.

We had ventured about half a mile down the 5 mile Split Rock Loop once before. There was still snow on the ground our first time, and I wanted it to be warmer. The kids were little.  The girls were 4 and 5 and Inari had just turned 7. 

But we were adventurers. We hiked, we played in the surf, we haunted the forest we called home. At least, the bits of it *near* our home. Foolishly fearless.

At the end of the half mile we went was a spring melt fed waterfall. Not as large as Gooseberry, but for us it was an awesome find and we were so excited, a sight unseen before!

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-38-55.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmRGdKLvjqymXTXuU9HyPYfKRrDWkvxajwhencaTgeGAta/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-38-55.png)

About a month and a half later was our day. It was warm, the sun was shining, light wind and the weather channel said we were good to go.

I had already read about the Split Rock Loop in a guide book. It was supposed to be an easy trail, clearly marked with bridges and even stairs.

So we put the dogs in the car, Hiro wore his backpack with water and snacks. We wore light, comfortable ling sleeves and out we went.

We were too hot at first. The trails were dry and firm and everyone was excited. We were strong, used to long hikes heading to the Split Rock Lighthouse, and to Gooseberry Falls.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-36.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmXLf3FdMEJQjPhBXt8sGcVG71X343uzFeeicwrdvzYCzU/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-36.png)

Sparrow drapped her sweater around her waist, we stopped to play again at the waterfall. So far, it was still an adventure. And we were able to get much closer than before, though the water was still to cold to play in.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-26.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmaNB4DFgcCxsJAWToKuzh38qx9FQWQvfpm4LAgWXJ32Cr/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-26.png)

The trails were beautiful, climbing high onto bluffs overlooking the river. I noticed uncomfortably that we were walking thin trails, the edges of our shoes on the edge of a path that plummeted down a 40 ft drop into the river, swollen from previous rains and snow melt.

But still, the paths were firm and the kids were careful. There were fishermen standing in a couple parts of the river, Smelting, we passed a family with their older dog as they made their way back. It was a great time. I'm not sure when but I noticed that there were clouds in the sky.

Gitchi Gami does weird things with the weather, making it difficult for forecasters to keep up. A cold front came across us, a chill wind. At the time it started to sprinkle, I judged us to be about half way through our five miles. 

The kids and I talked and we decided to keep going. There were no other fishermen at this point. No other hikers. But we did continue seeing signs pointing us in one direction or another, we crossed the river several times.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-49.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmdTC1pmDSTKxdSuiNFmZUtroM5UQLjvtXQFbqMCtRyjXg/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-20-49.png)

We went up and down, sometimes high above the river, sometimes level with it.

Two of the three biggest problems were obvious. We were not dressed for cold. We were not dressed for rain. Poor planning on the part of this pretend worldly traveler.

The third problem was the scariest problem. Those firm, dry trails were made out of mother fucking RED CLAY. Before long the sprinkles became rain and those nice trails were sucking the shoes off our feet. Making us slip and slide and fall.

There was no cell phone signal in the middle of nowhere. Miles away from the nearest road, in a National Forest. 

But, we kept our heads. I kept it fun. I let the dogs run free and gave the kids licence to explore off the trails as we trudged along. We saw some amazingly beautiful sights.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-29-17.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmZEq9euQ7o48U8MbKxabTbmeovuiww1tPbb78HRYjfo9r/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-29-17.png)

A lot of the rock walls carved out by the river were beautifully colored mosaics of nature. Moss hung from pines and signs of wildlife were everywhere.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-19-22.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmeYGihCYEi6ANqas6SgqLdUPUR9NqdLFRrfwyxgtuWb6V/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-19-22.png)

We came to the above place and played a bit, but I kept watching the clock. We'd already exceeded the amount of time we'd expected to finish the trip in.

I had let a friend know where we were going to be, leaving him a message before we left. But we LIVED in the middle of nowhere, as did he. So who knew when he would get the message.

At one point, on a high, high hill, surrounded by forest as far as the eye could see, I got enough signal to make a single phone call. I called another friend, another homeschooling mom in town. She didn't anwer, so I could only hope she heard the message.

I felt stupid calling 911. I wasn't lost yet, and I just felt more comfortable knowing someone knew where we were.

Then we came to this scary monster.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-21-35.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmSrppxSaMKr3t6LrAMjjE7empieYPssC6ta9GPo646Neg/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-21-35.png)

A high, swaying bridge tethered to trees to stablize it. Seriously. This is a thing.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-29-00.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmZAcCyU6eJsRrnShPHYyRLQD7UDdnx6FvehWGutTv29qR/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-29-00.png)

There's a sign on it warning that only one person should cross at a time. Holy fuck. I'm out in the middle of nowhere with no cell service and three little kids over a fast moving river.

Breathe mama, breathe.

We made it over, I brought the girls over one at a time and Inari fearlessly walked over himself. My heart hammering, we all made it.

The other side was a different kind of monster. There was no actual trail. If you hadn't been there before, had no guide or map, you had to go by instinct. We walked on plain grey basalt, smooth with time. The forest to our left, the river to our right.

A dip into the forest showed no trails so we just followed the river. After a time of feeling completely and utterly turned around, a trail was visible, going into the trees. 

We followed this for a good long while, freezing, teeth chattering, the kids taking turns wearing my light hoodie.

We passed a sign showing a tent, followed the light trail it pointed down and found nothing. So we kept walking.

At some point we found a sign that read "11 Miles to Beaver Bay."

My heart dropped like a stone. Eleven more miles?! How far north had we traveled to be so close to the next town?!

I couldn't cry. My people needed strength. I made the only decision I could. We were exhausted, we'd been out for 6 hours at that point. We were out of water, out of snacks. Everyone was cold and hungry and the sense of adventure was long gone.

And scariest of all, dark was coming. We live in a place of bears, wolves, Lynx, Bobcats and Moose. A place where Cougars are spotted, though the DNR denies it.

I shored myself up and explained to my trio that we were turning around and why and that we wouldn't be stopping to play and our rests would be shorter and further apart.

One thing I *did* have on my side is an ability to remember where I've been. My relatively good sense of direction would not fail me in a place I have already been.

We hauled ass. The dogs staying right with us. Back across the scary bridge. Back through the mossy pines, and passed the place we'd stopped to play.

My feet were killing me. I kept getting my toes jammed into the fronts of my shoes while saving a kid or two or three from falling down into a river, desperately seeking purchase in the smooshy slick clay.

I was carrying Willow. Totally exhausted. But you know what? Inari never once lost his positive sunny attitude.

We had a mantra as twilight settled around us with the sun dropping. "Back before dark, back before dark, back before dark."

I don't know how long we trudged when we came upon a man and a woman. The dogs went nuts, barking, hackles raised, the first people we'd seen in hours.

She called out "Are you Amanda?!" My gods. I cried with relief. I hugged them so hard. Both my neighbor and the friend from town had called 911.

Search and Rescue had come in full force. They weren't sure where exactly we were, so they were searching every trail on the Superior Hiking Trail that stemmed on both sides of the highway for miles and miles around.

They had rescue boats searching the lake shore, ATV's, trucks and all out searching.

The three of us took turns carrying Willow and Inari talked a mile a minute as we hiked the rest of the way back to where our car was parked.

We were greeted by police, fire and rescue and ambulances. We didn't make it back before dark.

![Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-21-47.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmY2gF7BxM83ecq4FQUfmjZauktekC8mqQ5EmwyDPdi2pF/Screenshot_2018-03-16-18-21-47.png)

A small crowd of people came to our rescue. Lost people is not something they joke around about here.

As we walked back, the woman had expressed her surprise that I was out there with such small kids. She was an experienced hiker and wouldn't bring her own 10-year-old on that trail until he was older.

I wrote an angry letter to the publisher of that guide book. I never did get a reply back.

Our neighbor was out there too, part of the search efforts. I hugged him, too and cried some more. We warmed up in the back of the ambulance and they fed the trio snacks and gave them gatorade.

I described to them where we were when we turned around. The sign we saw. I missed a turn somewhere, while we were still on those unmarked rocks. We'd been less than half a mile from the end of the loop when we turned back. In all we hiked almost ten full miles.

After it all we went home and took baths, ate some soup from a can and slept like the dead.

Every part of my body hurt the next day. My toes were so damaged from protecting my babies that eventually the nails completely fell off of my big toes. They regrew and fell off two times more. The left one is fine now, I think the right one is disfigured for life.

We'll never forget that day. The people that saved us from ourselves and the weather. It's an interesting story to be able to be able to tell.