High Hiker's Hilarious Misadventure: Lost in the Cascades with a Joint as a Compass

Hey there, fellow travelers of the green highway. Today, I'm gonna tell you about the time I accidentally became a wilderness survival expert - all thanks to some premium sticky icky and a really, really bad sense of direction.

So picture this: It's late summer, I've got an eighth of some Blue Dream that's been calling my name, and I decide spontaneous hiking is totally a good life choice. I mean, how hard could wandering through the Cascade mountains be, right? Spoiler alert: Very. Extremely. Profoundly hard.

I load up my backpack with what I thought was essential gear: three protein bars, a half-drunk water bottle, my phone with 32% battery, and - most importantly - my perfectly rolled joint. Peak preparedness, folks.

The first two hours were magical. Everything was green and misty, sunlight filtering through pine trees like some Instagram nature filter. My buzz was smooth, my steps were light, and I was feeling like some kind of zen woodland philosopher. Then things got... interesting.

Somewhere around mile four, I realized two critical things. First, I had absolutely no idea where the trail was anymore. Second, my phone was now at 12% battery and had zero signal. Classic stoner move.

What followed was essentially a comedy of errors that would make survival experts weep. I used my joint as a makeshift compass, tried eating pine needles for sustenance, and at one point seriously considered whether moss could be a nutritional food group. Pro tip: It cannot.

My navigation skills were so spectacularly terrible that I'm pretty sure I walked in three complete circles before realizing it. The forest started feeling less like a beautiful wilderness and more like a very green, very confusing prison.

As the sun started setting, panic began creeping in. But then, in a moment of absolute stoner clarity, I remembered something from a random wilderness documentary I'd watched while baked: Stay put. Don't wander. Be visible.

So I did exactly that. I found a small clearing, made a semi-professional looking pile of branches to signal potential rescuers, and settled in for what I was certain would be a very uncomfortable night.

Miraculously, about four hours later - just as my remaining protein bar was looking suspiciously appetizing - I heard helicopter sounds. Turns out, someone had reported me missing, and search and rescue were already looking.

When the team found me, I was half-asleep, surrounded by my branch signal, looking like a very chill, very lost woodland creature. They were equal parts impressed and concerned by my surprisingly calm demeanor.

The moral of the story? Always tell someone where you're going. Bring actual survival gear. And maybe don't get high before wandering into the wilderness.

This week's listener question: What's your most ridiculous outdoor adventure? Drop me a line and let me know.

Next week, I've got a story that involves a pizza, three raccoons, and a very confused Uber driver. Trust me, you won't want to miss it.

Stay lifted, stay safe, and always know your exits.



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