FORT KENT, Maine — I wish I could say I was joking when admitting to getting lost on my own farm.
And it’s happened more than once.
I am somewhat “directionally challenged” and, when coupled with a tendency to become distracted and wander, let’s just say it can be a challenge to stay on track and not get lost.
Just ask anyone who’s traveled with me, and you will hear tales of near misses with traffic, close calls with steep drop-offs, and potentially dangerous encounters with wildlife, all while trying to get from point A to point B.
It’s gotten bad enough that my friend Julie, with whom I logged thousands of air miles this past year, threatened to start carrying a blowgun with tranquilizer darts so she could drop me in my tracks when I started to wander off toward places I should not be.
I can certainly understand why she was so tempted. For example, not every door in the Louvre is a public exit. Some are actually alarm-equipped emergency exits, no matter how confidently I argued the contrary.
It’s also why people like my longtime bicycling friend Penny are in complete agreement with the plan.
Several years ago, Penny and I traveled south to take part in the Bike Ride Across Georgia, 360 miles over five days from the state’s western to eastern borders.
We took our share of wrong turns just getting there and on the ride itself, but nothing that was not easily corrected or particularly hazardous.
What was potentially dangerous was the level of distraction I had reached by the third day thanks, at least in part, to cycling 60 miles per day in Georgia summertime heat and humidity. At the end of one day, with my eyes fully on the prize — a diner across four lanes of traffic — I stepped off the curb without checking for oncoming vehicles and into the path of a large truck.
The next day after battling a headwind for 50 miles I nearly blew through a stop sign at an intersection, again into the path of traffic.
Both times quick action by Penny accompanied by her warning shouts saved the day.
By the time I wandered past a large sign warning people to avoid the area because of a heavy bee presence — I am very allergic to bees – I think she was ready to stab me with my own EpiPen.
There are times when I travel that I have to rely on the kindness — and alertness — of strangers to avoid disaster.
On a press trip to the Yukon a few years back I broke away from the group to get the “perfect” shot of the landscape.
A landscape, mind you that was heavily populated by grizzly bears.
The Tourism Yukon officials admonished me immediately, and quite rightly, about wandering alone in bear country and then, just to be safe, assigned a guide to accompany me the duration of my stay.
It’s not always wandering that causes problems.
This past January, Julie and I met up with our friend Kim on Eleuthera in the Bahamas for a gals’ winter getaway.
While there, we had a car at our disposal, and Kim — a fearless and great driver — volunteered to chauffeur us around the island where cars use the left-hand lane.
All was going fine until the day we went looking for the grocery store based on day-old, somewhat vague directions from the taxi driver from the airport.
The fourth time we completed the loop around the town without finding the store — passing the same waving and increasingly amused local gentleman each time — we actually stopped for more detailed instructions.
Kim really should not have been at all surprised to have gotten turned around with me. Some years back she and I drove to Daaquam, Quebec, for a sled dog race and I ended up driving a very short distance on the local snowmobile trail which, in the dark and falling snow, I mistook for the road.
Here on Rusty Metal Farm there have been more times than I care to admit that, while cruising timber, exploring possible trail routes or just ambling in the woods, I’ve gotten completely turned around and had no idea where I was in relation to the house.
So, imagine my surprise when, despite this dubious track record, Julie was all for my joining her on a road trip to Winnipeg, Manitoba, a few weeks ago.
I mean, it seemed simple enough. Sure, Canada is a big country and Winnipeg is about 1,800 miles from Fort Kent, but it’s due west.
All we had to do was cross the border, hang a left and keep driving.
I suspect it was that kind of thinking that caused so much trouble for the Donner Party on their way to California in 1846.
Luckily, Julie is a huge fan of modern GPS technology and convinced me to toss aside the old paper travel maps and use the directional app on the iPhone.
I didn’t think anything could be more difficult than re-folding a travel map. But programming a route on a smartphone? I was ready to hire the nearest, tech-savvy 12-year-old.
Eventually, after a lot of practice and some through-clenched-teeth instructions from Julie, I got the hang of it and we managed to actually reach our intended destination after four days on the road without pulling a “Thelma and Louise” and driving off a cliff.
So, yes — my travels near and far often involve a myriad of wrong turns, misunderstood directions and shiny objects that must be investigated.
But I’m not going to stop. And, thanks to amazing, patient and loving friends who are part of these journeys, I’ll return largely unscathed.
Julia Bayly of Fort Kent is an award-winning writer and photographer, who writes part time for Bangor Daily News. Her column appears here every other Friday. She can be reached by email at jbayly@bangordailynews.com.
