Owen’s ordeal began when he was out on a date to Dixie National Forest with his girlfriend Jessie. He managed to convince her that they should go off the path and into a small ravine where they could spend some couples’ time together. He had even planned to propose to her here. Once they reached the meadow, they were amazed and filled with joy. He spotted an area where they could clamber down a little bit and be in a clearing of tall aspen trees. As they walked over to the hillside, they took in all the sights and sounds-or lack thereof. It was peaceful. They waded through the thick grass, smelling the flowers. He handed her his phone, and backed away from her, asking her to take a picture of him in this glorious place.
All of a sudden, he began falling down 20ft into the clearing that was meant to host a happy moment between the couple, but now only provided a little shelter for a despairing man. He lay on the ground for what seemed to be ages. He could feel the blood surging through his body and the warm, sticky wound festering. His would have been fiancé screamed and shouted if he was alright, but he could not comprehend what she was saying. She sounded far away, somewhere in another land. He could faintly hear her saying that she would run and get help.
Much later, he woke up. The crickets were chirping, providing an eerie tone of loneliness to the evening. Owen was filled with fear, wondering if he would ever see his girlfriend again. He looked up at the dark sky and saw that heavy clouds were beginning to form. “Oh great. Can’t wait to get soaked”, he thought. He was so weak that by the time the storm rolled overhead two hours later, he had barely crawled the edge of the clearing. He reached the base of a large oak and heaved himself up. It took him multiple tries to pick himself up. It was nearly comical the way that he lifted himself and suddenly his grip on the trunk gave away and he sat on the ground with a plop. After four tries the man was finally on his feet. Wincing with pain, Owen gingerly put his weight on his broken leg. He immediately shifted all of his weight onto his other foot.
The crippled man reached up for a branch to break off as a brace to support him. He found a solid branch and attempted to break it off. With the branch under his shoulder, he tested out walking with his improvised crutch. “There is no point in me waiting here. She won’t come back for me. I’ll try and find a way out”, thought Owen. He began to clamber through the forest, hindered by being able to only step where the ground was even and where he would not lose his balance. He meandered through the forest for a few miles, noticing that the surroundings did not change. This made it nearly impossible to tell how much progress he was making. Presently he came across a small stream. He stooped down and cupped his hands for water, only to become aware of a new sensation. He felt his broken ribs with his dry hands, touching the blood and feeling his bruises forming. The man decided that he would rather die of pain than of thirst, and filled his mouth with the cool river water. He felt instantly refreshed and purified. He pulled himself back up and changed his course so that he was walking along the river. He thought that eventually the river would lead him to some sort of civilization. Setting out again, Owen began to feel fearful once more. He felt totally alone in the immense forest- no one around. Dead silence. No animals. No birds. No noise. It was peaceful. The only noises audible were the sound of his breathing and his frightened heartbeat.
Five-in-the-morning-dew was rising off the green moss which covered the trees and the ground. The air was refreshing to the man, but what he needed was to get home. He thought of his small apartment in Salt Lake City, and longed to be home. He desired to be in an enclosed place-not a wide open and deserted land like the forest he was in. Nothing seemed better than to be back at home with his girlfriend. Perhaps watching a movie, or playing a game. As he aimlessly wandered through the forest on one good leg, and one cracked crutch, he wished to go home. He tried to comfort himself, but as he looked around and saw the mist and felt the cold air chill his bones and dry his lungs, this was hard to do.
He reached a place which was very rocky. Stones of many shapes jutted out of the ground at various angles, making passage through difficult. Owen pushed himself onto the top of a large round boulder, using his stick like a pole vaulter in slow motion. But as he was pushing himself up, the branch broke, and the man was forced to continue his passage without the aid of a crutch.
He resumed his journey down the side of the creek, following it for many hours. But suddenly, as he pushed two ferns away to either side of him, he came to the top of a hill. The slope was sparsely populated with baby aspen, full of young life. But something astounding lay in front of him. There was a grey state road which continued for many miles to either side of him. A black semi-truck barreled down the road at full speed, and Owen waved and shouted. That is when he knew he was going home.
