I spent quite a bit of time traversing in the woods doing geological exploration. Of course, in those days we relied upon maps and compasses, no GPS, cell phones, friend finder, etc. One manages to become very proficient in being able to traverse in and out to a particular location (we paced our distances). We worked in pairs, which was a good idea for obvious reasons.
Fast forward to years later, and a partridge hunt with a buddy in the Ottawa Valley. We were going into an area we had been to before. The plan was to take a known trail to a small lake, traverse around the lake and catch a logging trail (as shown on the map) that would take us in a circle of several kilometers back to the local highway. We liked this approach as it optimized our hunting time, and gave us the opportunity to check out the new trail.
When we arrived, I realized that I had the map (1:50000), but had forgotten my compass. My buddy was equipped with neither. It was a nice sunny day - not wanting to forego a pleasant walk in the woods, we pressed on. The logic was that we had the map, and could check our bearing against the sun. We got to the lake, looked across the lake to see a small landing, confirming the existence of the desired trail on the map. We made our way around the lake and found the trail. By this time it had clouded over. We started on the trail, confirming our direction by looking for bright spots in the clouds - this turned out to be a less-than-stellar idea.
After about a half an hour, I began to realize that the topography we were encountering did not match the map. In fact, it looked as if we were going 180 degrees from our desired direction. We sat down and discussed our options. Being young and ambitious we decided to continue on the trail, as it appeared to become more established, and should ultimately lead us back to the highway.
Well - it started to rain and the temperature dropped, and neither of us were wearing suitable clothing. My buddy was wearing a wool sweater that quickly became saturated with water, giving him the appearance of a drowned rat. He didn't complain, but I knew that he was becoming distressed. We walked for another hour - by this time it was mid afternoon, and the thought of walking out in the dark crossed my (his) mind. Neither of us said anything. Finally we came to a crossroad that went north and we took that, hoping that it would lead us to the highway. After another half an hour in the pouring rain, we came to the highway. Recognizing the intersection, we made the realization that we had a five mile walk back to the car.
At that point, neither of us was feeling too spry. We started walking, agreeing that we would attempt to hitchhike a ride as darkness was upon us. Sure enough, a pair of headlights comes down the road, and we stuck out our thumbs, with our shotguns slung over our shoulder. The car stops - "Gidday, Gidday, Gidday - where you goin?". It was a couple of lads from the valley out for a joyride. We explained where we wanted to go, without betraying our misadventure (after all, we were accomplished hunters...). They ushered us into the backseat, where we were met with several cases of beer. Beverages we offered ... The turn of events bordered on surreal...
We got back to the car, stripped off our clothes to our gauches, and turned the car heater on full for the return trip....
Anyway, the lesson I learned here is that it is easy to become over-confident about bush skills. To this day, I wont go in the woods without a compass, even though I now use a GPS for traversing. If I get ambitious, I'll type a story about the infamous "black hole" - a formation of magnetite at our deer camp.