Into the woods

Last weekend in the mountains, my husband and I took several hikes, one of which was miles longer than we intended, due to my misinterpretation of the trail map I had consulted. I am absolutely terrible at directions, so it's a mystery to me as to how my husband, after 30 years together, will still look at me confidently and say, "Now, which way do we go here?"

I don't know where I'm going most of the time when I'm in the woods, and that doesn't bother me at all. I mean, I'm not exactly lost — I can always find my way back out — and wandering around aimlessly is sort of the point of hiking anyhow. But my husband, who prefers to hike in the southwest where there are big scenic vistas, feels lost in the dense, wooded mountains of the northeast, where you can't see very far ahead, and he is always trying to figure out where we are. Our conversations go something like this.

Him: Where's the lake?
Me: The lake? It should be on our right.
Him: I don't see a lake.
Me: The guidebook said, "affords lovely views of the lake." Or something like that.
Him: There is no lake.
Me: The woods are pretty this time of year, aren't they?
Him: Where's the map?

Him: You left the map in the car?
Me: The trail loops around the lake.
Him: There is no lake.
Me: There was a waterfall on the map, but I didn't think we would want to go that far.
Him: We've already gone miles.
Me: Yeah, it seems weird we haven't seen the lake.
Him: Do you have any idea where we are?
Me: There's going to be a lake. On our right. Pretty soon.
Him: There is no lake.

Me: Hey, walk ahead and I'll take a photo.
Him: Maybe we should turn around.
Me: Look at this cool mushroom.
Him: This must be the wrong trail.
Me: I see a lake!
Him: That's THE LEFT.
Me: It's a lake!
Him: That must be some other lake.
Me: I hear a waterfall.
Him: I thought we weren't going to the waterfall.
Me: Look! A lovely view ....