Tyra

I peered out the windshield and at a thicket of trees crowding the forest floor. Huge moss-covered boulders sat on a slope just beyond the trees. The horizon was blanketed by majestic mountains that scraped the sky. Gray, low-hanging mist covered the mountaintops. The clouds had been dense and dark for the past several hours, but the rain hadn't fallen just yet. The weather had been the same yesterday too. Cloudy all day and then light showers in the evening. I hoped the rainstorm held off until tonight when I was safely inside my hotel room. I was in a major time crunch and a little water wasn't going to stop me.

I plucked the plastic wrapper from my chocolate candy bar and bit off a big chunk. I was famished and had barely eaten this morning. Eager to get out to the mountainside to start my work, I had settled for one plain waffle and a couple cups of coffee. I needed to refuel and recharge, mentally and literally, but there wasn’t exactly a fast-food joint around here to roll through and grab a burger. In fact, I hadn’t seen a restaurant since I started my drive away from the main town and towards the mountains.

I had been driving all morning through Arrow Lake, Minnesota. My back ached and felt stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. I nibbled off another hefty bite of the candy bar, swallowing it after only one or two chews. I gulped down some soda to quench my thirst.

My windows were rolled down and a light breeze wafted inside the SUV. Despite the high humidity and threat of rain, the temperature was just right. Not too hot or cold. It was the perfect time to get out in the field to start on my assignment.

The physical map I’d just bought inside the convenience store, along with my snack and drink, was spread open on the passenger seat. Roadways and interstates were squiggled like tiny veins on the page, representing routes in a variety of different colors. I wrinkled my nose and furrowed my brow, leaning over the map to inspect it with more precision. Let’s face it. I had absolutely no clue what I was looking at. I might as well have been reading hieroglyphics.

I was the product of the digital age, and maps had become more or less obsolete to the culture and society we lived in, but not today. I would have to figure out how to read the contents displayed if I ever wanted to reach my destination.

My iPhone was cradled in the little space between the drink holders in the middle compartment. The wireless signal was a bit shoddy and the GPS had stopped working a while back. I plucked it up and clicked it on, hoping against the odds that somehow, I’d see at least one usable bar of reception.

I came up empty. I tossed the phone down and groaned. Cell phone service was always flaky in little backwoods towns like this, but on the plus side, most areas like these never lacked for having a charming appeal. I was used to city living, but by the time I left Arrow Lake, I'd have a glimpse of what it was like to live without the conveniences I was afforded on a daily basis. I had an endless supply of journals, and I had even rented state-of-the-art photography equipment to document every little detail on the topic of homestead and mountain living. I doubted that my story would bring in big bucks for the newspaper back home, but this trip wasn’t just about turning in an article.

I pulled the notes I’d previously jotted down for information and found the source of my confusion. I compared the notes to the maps, but they didn’t read the same. There were no roads on the map leading to the location I needed to get to, which I found both perplexing and annoying. There was a lot at stake here. I had to prove myself in this new venture, and I couldn’t allow some dusty roads, or lack thereof, to hinder my progression.

After climbing out of the SUV, I grabbed my purse and the map and walked back to the store. This time, my leg muscles didn't whine and protest in as much pronounced agony at being stretched and used after an insane amount of time driving through valleys, uphill slopes, and meandering roadways. I couldn't wait until I made it to my destination so I could roam about outside of the confines of a stuffy vehicle.

A tiny bell tinkled in a chime sound through the store upon my entry. The clerk behind the counter glanced up at me, alerted to my presence.

"Back so soon?" The white-haired woman behind the counter smiled at me with a pair of kind eyes.

“Yeah,” I chuckled and approached her. “I actually have a question, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, shoot.” The lines around the clerk’s mouth wrinkled with curiosity.

I pointed behind me, back through the double doors leading out to the parking lot where my car sat unattended. “Those mountains,” I began vaguely. “I was looking at a map, but I don’t see any roads that lead to the top.”

“Right.” The clerk nodded and folded her frail, bony hands together on the counter. She smacked her lips. “The roads aren’t labeled, so you won’t find them on that map, sweetheart.”

“Really?” I asked with surprise. “Why wouldn’t they label the roads?”

“That’s just the way things are around here.” The woman adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “There are some dirt and gravel roads if you drive a little further up.”

“Hmm.” I drummed my fingers on the counter.

The woman pointed to a spot on the map. "You're right here if that helps any. You look like a tourist, but most of you people use one of the guides in the city. You're on the wrong side of the mountains if you're looking for hiking trails," she offered.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not a hiker. The clerk at the hotel told me that I needed to come out this way.”

“Where exactly are you going?” the woman asked.

“I’m doing research on some of the homestead communities,” I told her.

“Ah.” Her eyes brightened. “There’s a friendly group of them not too far from here. You aren’t the first one that’s come looking for them this year.”

“So, that’s good. I’m on the right path then.”

“Yes, but the terrains are rough and dangerous,” the woman warned. Her eyes flashed with something eerie that made me shiver.

"Are you suggesting that I not go?" I quizzed with another wary glance at the purple painted horizon.

The clerk shrugged. “You could use a tour guide.”

“But they don’t give tours of this side of the mountain,” I said.

“Probably because families live out there,” she said. “Would you want a bunch of strange tourists trampling through your home?”

I could tell that I had over-stayed my welcome in the store. “No,” I said. “That’s why I’m alone. I understand that they don’t tolerate crowds roaming around.”

“Well, you seem nice enough.” The woman glanced out the doors to the store. I followed the trail of her gaze as it wandered up to the mountain tops. “Just be careful and stay in your car until you reach the community. You never know what kind of wildlife you might encounter.”

“I will. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I just need content for a news article on homestead living.”

“If you say so…”

I sighed. I was at an impasse with her. It was time to take matters into my own hands. “I’ll take this compass please.” I pulled it from the shelf and handed her a crisp ten-dollar bill.

The woman sighed with exasperation and punched the buttons on the register. “There you go, and good luck with your article.”

“Thanks.” I met her gaze and gave her a meager smile that wasn’t returned.

I walked back out the doors and enjoyed the gentle breeze that made my hair dance around my chin. I tugged my hair elastic off my wrist and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I glanced at the mountains with determination. I inhaled a fresh batch of glorious air before climbing back into the SUV.

I had a lot riding on the success of this quest. If I had to trek the road in a hike, I probably had enough stamina to pull it off. It was time to grab life by the horns. I had work to do. Uncertainty had no place residing in the cobwebs of my mind. I was going to make it up the mountain, no matter what the cost.