30 hours in a hurricane, no course race

This discovery provided some much-needed encouragement, especially as storm bursts began to permeate our rain jackets. We then followed the compass through the barren pine pine barren, which felt like we were walking on a green cloud, and then boulder hopping into an ancient glacier moraine to quickly find two checkpoints. With each discovery, our hearts rose. The seamless adjustments make searching even more efficient. Confidently, we gambled to sail, cutting across the upper slopes of the thickly wooded mountains, neglecting the gravel paths on the circuit below. When we spiked the next checkpoint, we hooped to success. I couldn't smile as we quickly crossed the path with the team we jumped over and over.

The storm escalated when we fell into a tight river valley with no official trails, but I didn't mind. Despite being soaked, we have discovered that exercise will keep us warm if we maintain a decent pace. And finally, I had achieved a central, deep focus of my love for orienteering. Everything seemed very beautiful due to increased awareness of navigation. The falling orange and yellow leaves glow like sparks thrown from the fire against the smoky clouds. The cerulean blue crayfish running across the path later looked like a fairy tale creature, with the six-point stag, pink on its antlers turning from velvet to pink. It was very fused with landscapes and maps, so I felt two checkpoints. One was hanging above the river, and the other was pushed into the valley.

When you are navigating well, you, the map and the world merge. You will be over the slopes of the ground, the bends of the valleys, the few meters and kilometers that your footprints will pace. It is immersed in itself and nature, the world of interior and exterior. It returned when voyages were essential to human survival as a hunter-gatherer. Your mind will adapt to the magnetic north almost as much as your compass.

11:36am

We pushed towards the edge of the river valley and enjoyed something quiet, fiery and quiet that filled the storm's lull. For the past four hours I've heard a phenomenal pop of intermittent roots tearing it from the slimy ground and trunks boom. Suddenly I heard a thunderous crack above. I knew what it was before I looked up.

I ran and cried. I glanced over my shoulder and saw McRae and Jed instinctively scattered as well. But the trunk was descending on them like giant arms, its branches spread like the fingers of a hand with flies. Some of the small branches were snapping across the Jed. If Jed is crushed, the situation will be desperate. Assuming McRae and I can stabilize him, the nearest road was still at least a mile away and there was no way we could drive him out. Also, even if emergency beacons can connect to the satellite via clouds, helicopters will not fly in this weather.