"lost", Sandhill Wildlife Refuge, Babcock, Wiscosin.

My adventurous nature led me to a "Daunting" day, with much unexpected adventures, of which I don't necessarily welcome or wish to experience again. On a beautiful day, with the sun high and the temperature in the 30's, I head out in hopes of taking pictures to add to my adventures.
My destination is the Sandhill Wildlife Refuge

But first, I stopped at the clock tower in Wisconsin Rapids.The time shows to be 12.30pm,which is not accurate, and I also saw the wall plague behind the clock tower.
Then at the refuge, some of my few pictures of the trail includes a lot of snow lined by baren trees on both sides.

After walking for few hours all I see are footprints of animals, but no animals in sight.

However, after walking for more miles I was expecting to find the trails that would lead me on the return path. However the more I walked the more trails there was ahead, endless road of snow and baren trees, and at times it led out to hugh expanse of open marshes covered with snow.

I eventually realized by 2.30 that I had walked 3 hours and no signs of return trails, or that there is no signs to tell me the exit trails. My quest for adventures had turned into a quest for leaving the area. Miles of trails laid ahead and I don't know where they lead.

At one point I found tire tracks. However thinking at first that they were tracks of snowmobiles I ignored them. I continued to walk onward, not knowing where I was heading. At one point I found prints of snowshoes of several people. Again I ignored these since my focus, and with great concern for my survival, was to find a path out of the refuge.

Sometimes there came a clearing where I can see miles ahead of me and that was quite daunting, since it may not be the right path but I will not know that until transversing it. Indeed it turns out that there were more trails afterwards.

By 3pm I was coming up to trails that appears to be freshly cleared for more trails. I had not seen anything resemblance of a return trail. At times more forks in the trail lead me to make decisions of which to take. No signs were present. There were tree markings of red paint that gave me no reassurance to where I would be heading.

By this time the sun had gone down further, my feet were getting tired, and I hadn't eaten since my adventure started at 11.30am. I had no water with me. I did ate some snow to avoid dehydration. At the same time however I was concern that eating snow would decrease my body temperature. My jacket kept me warm enough and the temperature wasn't too cold.

By 3pm, I had to make a decision, to go on in hopes that the trails lead to exit, or trace my own footprints back, which would definitely take 3-4 hours, but a sure way that I would be out.

I took the sure way out: retracing my steps. However as luck would have it my legs started to cramp. First the right lower leg, then the left, and then both cramped at the same time. Both the shin muscles, anterior tibialis, and the calf muscles, the gastrocnemus, were cramping at the same time! on both legs. I had to stop several times to stretch what muscles I could, but I was intent on walking no matter how they hurt. The snow banks on both sides of the trail prevented me from getting close to the trees to stretch my legs.

My survival depended on getting out before the sun sets since I wouldn't survive the night there, nor wanted to take that chance. Again I ate some more snow, thinking it would help with relieving the cramps. I also tried to concentrate on breathing, either to get more oxygen to my tired muscles, or at least keep my mind off of the long road ahead, which is still covered with snow and not a soul in sight. Not even animals came to my rescue.

On the way back I had two things in mind, one, follow my footprints back no matter what happens and to keep on walking no matter how tired I was or how much cramping there was, and two, to keep my head straight in order not to go insane, which would be devastating in this situation. Panic wasn't an option, although it lingers in the back burner at all times. On the return walk I came across the snowshoes' prints again. However this time I studied it more carefully, and found tire tracks along with them. These were not snowmobile tracks. It dawned on me after studying the tracks more carefully now that cars must have brought these people here. They then went snow shoeing, then returned to their cars and left. I had gone way beyond the tire tracks. I then concluded that if I follow the tire tracks it would lead me outward. And so I walked onward, cramping, hungry, and thirsty, but with a new direction, a new goal. This would mean that I would have to abandon my footprints when the time came. Indeed it did. I came along another fork in the trails, and this time I either continued to follow my footprints straight ahead, or veer right to follow the tire tracks. I veered right.

By this time I had two walking sticks on either side. My camera with the long zoom lens dangle at my right side, which seemed to weigh more than I remembered, and my lens bag across my shoulder on my left side. My head bent down looking in front of my feet so as to avoid looking at the road ahead. The long road seems to dampen my spirit and determination, both of which are crucial to me at this time. Eventually the tire tracks ends at a gate! On the other side of this is a paved road. The road proved later on to be my way out of the refuge. I head east with the sun behind my back, knowing that that was the right direction. I mustered any remaining strength in me to climb over the fence. I walked for another few more miles to my freedom. My walk by this time was slow, literally painful, but immensely relieved. I managed to take a few more pictures before getting into my car and drove home. Of course I had to change lens to take these last few pictures.