My grandfather lives out in the country, like us and had his horses and mules get out one night this past week. After rounding them up and getting back to his property, one of his good mules that he uses to pull a wagon turned up missing. Someone later called and said it got hit by a jeep and it totaled the jeep around 1 am on Tuesday. My dad was telling the hubby about it yesterday, and of course Tim wanted to go "look" for the missing mule.
The deal was to take the 4wheelers and search for him to see if he was hurt or dead. Then, Tim says, "it is too wooded and full of briars, that we should walk to get our exercise in for the day". Ok, so I am thinking, great idea. I will get my walking in plus help pop find his missing mule.
WRONG. I wore my rubber boots becasue it had been so muddy out, the temp was probably in the upper 30's and we kinda had a dilema. We parked at the gates to his property and walked across the fields until we reached another road where the accident happened.
I told Tim before we left that I had better get at least 2 miles in, so I was going to wear my pedometer to track my steps. We crossed over many fields and followed the horse prints in the mud for about 2 hours. Then we reached the main road and didn't see anything. Tim thought we should walk the woods back, incase he fell down and couldn't get up after being hit.
Well, Tim thought he was walking the ditch down, but was really going deeper into the woods.
At one point, I stopped and when he turned around to see where I was, he said, "come on, we're almost there". Boy was he wrong! It was after 4pm and he finally admits, "I am not gonna lie, Mandy, We are lost". Are you kidding me? Lost? I thought you knew. Finally we reach this creek that is probably 100 feet deep. I told him, let's just try to walk straight back towards the fields.
Well, when the thicket and brush and trees are so tall, you can't remember where you have been and where you have not. I began to freak out in my head. I tried to stay calm and not let Tim know, but we had no idea where the main road was or where the open field we came from was and there was no sun to tell where it was setting. All I could think about was, it is going to be dark, we have no flashlight, it is so cold out here and my mom is supposed to bring Houston to our house any minute now. I began praying and asking God to help lead us in the right direction. After about 25 minutes of wandering and having a private panic attack, we heard a single car go down the main road which is really an old back road that is not used too often. Thank God, someone was traveleing it or we may have been trapped back there until after dark. We heard the car and walked toward that direction and finally after 10 minutes saw an old bridge and the road.
So, we walk back and go to my granny and pop's house to tell them we were searching for the missing mule and my grandfather says he was on the other side of the road in that wooded area. Was he serious? Almost 3 hours of walking in mud in rubber boots and getting lost and we did it for nothing?
UGH, anyway, mom had tried to drop Houston off and we were gone. She had to be somewhere, so she took Houston with her. We were going to kill time until we had to pick him up at her house, so Tim says, "Let's go to the other fields to see if we can look again". Once again, we walk and walk until it is pitch black outside and we see nothing. So sad, I am praying this mule has passed and is out of his misery or has ran to another field and is just missing.
All this time I had been wearing my pedomater on my waist to track our steps. By the time we get back home, it said 12, 097 steps. So I googled how many miles that was equal to and it says 2,000 =1 mile. We ended walking over 6 miles in search of a missing mule.
So, needless to say, I am laying on the couch and my legs definately got a workout today. Wow, try wading in mud with heavy rubber boots on for almost 4 hours. Sounds like fun, right? This is a day I will never forget!
