Liz, Phil, you, and I took off into the mountains for our Summer vacation, as we have for the last couple of years. This time, though, we went to a mountain range in another State, well out of our usual haunts.
The plan was four days hiking out, two days of rest, and four days hiking back, for a total of ten days. We stopped at a police station in the last small town before the highlands, and let them know roughly where we were going and how long we expected to be, like responsible campers.
Everything was going well. The scenery was incredible. Rocky heights, thickly forested valleys, creeks and little waterfalls. I was gearing up to tell you my feelings on this trip. Finally!
And then disaster hit. Some storm like I've never seen before rolled across the sky on the third afternoon. Hail and rain came down in torrents, and wind lashed everything. We could hardly decide between high and low ground as everything just turned to mud, everything seemed to flood, and it was dark like it was night.
I'm soaked, and cold, our phones won't turn on at all, and you and I got separated from Liz and Phil maybe three hours ago. Nothing looks familiar, and Phil had the maps. The storm seems to have passed, but it's still raining heavily and I can't tell where we are or which direction we should go in.
I turn to you who is as wet as I am, and ask, "What do you think we should do?"
