Moonlight

Getting back on track when you lose your way

Stepfanie Aguilar camps at Red Rock Canyon State Park (photo courtesy stepfanie aguilar)

 
I learned something meaningful that night in the desert. I learned how important family stories can be, when you’re trying to move through this world.
— Stepfanie Aguilar
 

Season 4 // Episode 2

We’ve all had moments when we feel lost. Sometimes it’s literal — getting lost in the mountains or at sea. Sometimes it’s emotional — where we question our place in life. 

Either way, it’s unnerving. And lonely.

This story takes us from the deserts of California to the jungles of the Philippines, and explores how one young woman got back on track, when she lost her way, both literally and figuratively.

  • Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.

    VOICEOVER: Hub and Spoke audio collective.

    DENIS BULICHENKO: We went on a skiing tour, a back-country ski tour. And the thing was that the weather was unreliable on that day.

    WILLOW BELDEN: This is Denis Bulichenko.

    DENIS: So we went to the summit and started our descent. But at the same time, the clouds arrived, and it was like clear whiteout. We weren’t able to see anything at all. And we were quite lost.

    WILLOW: Lost. In the mountains. In a snowstorm. This is NOT a situation you want to be in.

    But luckily, Denis had a tool at his disposal. An app that he’d developed. It’s called PeakVisor, and it helps you navigate in the backcountry. And in this case, it was a lifesaver.

    DENIS: Using 3-D map and the terrain visualization, we were able to track back our steps and to find a safe descent to the valley.

    WILLOW: PeakVisor is our presenting sponsor this season. Check out their app in the app store. You just might love it.

    Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.

    This season, we’re exploring the theme “Secrets of the Earth.” Each episode, we’re harnessing the power of nature to uncover new truths and help us understand our own humanity.

    Today’s story is about losing your way.

    We’ve all had moments when we feel lost. Sometimes, it’s literal — getting lost in the mountains, or at sea. Sometimes, it’s emotional — when we question our place in life.

    Either way, it’s unnerving. And lonely.

    On this episode, Stepfanie Aguilar takes us from the deserts of California to the jungles of the Philippines, and explores how you get back on track, when you lose your way, both literally and figuratively.

    STEPFANIE AGUILAR: I was at the top of this ridge. And I was by myself. The wind was so strong that I thought it would knock me off the cliff. I kept saying to myself, “Don’t look down, don’t look down.”

    Because I’m really scared of heights.

    But let’s back up.

    At the time, I was in my mid twenties, and I was going through a quarter-life crisis. I didn’t know what kind of work I should do, I was under a lot of debt, and I wasn’t sure what I was passionate about. It was an unfulfilled life.

    I was carrying a lot of shame and disappointment because I couldn’t get myself together. I was getting more and more insecure about myself. It was a downward spiral.

    The one thing that helped was getting outdoors. I found myself drifting into the mountains, forests, and deserts. Away from where people crowded. In places where I didn’t have to perform.

    There was one year when I kept my camping gear in the trunk of my car all the time, because I was camping so much.

    Camping and hiking was therapeutic. Hiking was embodied meditation, reflection, and knowledge-seeking. It also seemed to symbolize the obstacles in my life. Like struggling and wanting to turn back. Measuring to see if I can push myself a little further to pull it off.

    But one day, that therapeutic practice became something else. Something unexpected. Something frightening.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): Packing for an overnight camping trip, and I’m missing a flashlight.

    STEPFANIE (narration): My destination was Red Rock Canyon State Park. It’s in the desert, an hour away from where I live in southern California.

    It was one of those weeks where I felt mentally drained, and I just needed a quick getaway. So at the last minute, I packed up the rest of my camping gear and hit the road.

    When I got to the campground in the afternoon, I was amazed. I hadn’t expected it to be this beautiful. I pitched my tent at the foot of these dramatic cliffs.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): It’s like I’m gonna camp in between some giant’s toes.

    STEPFANIE (narration): After setting up my tent, I decided to go for a sunset hike. I wanted to stretch my legs before making dinner and take pictures of plants during golden hour. Taking pictures was another meditative activity for me.

    I looked at my map. There was a short nature trail nearby. It’s just what I needed: gentle and easy.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): I’m all packed for my little hike. Let’s see what this trail is all about.

    STEPFANIE (narration): As I hiked, I photographed Cholla cacti, the ones that look like prickly teddy bears. There were Joshua trees. Yucca plants. And it was a very clear sky. Even the moon was already out.

    The sandy trail led me up to a viewpoint high above the campground. And the view. Ah, the view was spectacular.

    From the top, I saw a panorama of hoodoos, these tall, thin rock formations that remind me of chess pieces. I saw shallow caves in the cliffs across from where I stood.

    I had planned to turn back at this point. But I was so curious about this place. It looked mystical. It was also my first time here, and I only had this one night. I wanted to keep exploring.

    Judging from the map, it looked like there was a trail that would take me down into the canyon in front of me. I could then pick up another trail and loop back to the campground. Easy.

    I decided to try it.

    But it didn’t take long for me to wonder if this was a good idea. First of all, the trail was very exposed. And remember, I have a fear of heights.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): Okay. (laughs nervously) It's so high.

    STEPFANIE (narration): Secondly, the terrain was rough. This wasn’t an easy nature trail anymore. It was steep, slippery, and rocky. And I wasn’t prepared.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): This is the first time I brought my running shoes, which isn't really for hiking. I didn't bring my hiking boots.

    STEPFANIE (narration): But I figured that once I got down to the bottom, it would be okay. It would be worth it. So I took a deep breath and scrambled down, clinging to rocks and loose dirt. I kept slipping. The wind kept trying to blow me off course. But then I finally made it to the bottom.

    The trail wasn’t very clear down here. But I saw footprints and even some tire tracks. So I followed them.

    By now, the sun had gone down, and it was twilight. I could still see, but I knew it would be dark soon.

    I felt a twinge of fear in my gut saying maybe I should turn back. But my fear often plays tricks on me. It tells me not to do things, even when they’re perfectly safe. So I tried to ignore it. I told myself to focus on the beauty around me and stop worrying.

    After a while, I came to a group of Joshua Trees clumped together, and it reminded me of a typical family portrait. It felt like they were saying, “Welcome to this side of the canyon.”

    See? There was nothing to be scared of.

    The canyon was gorgeous in the soft evening light. Looking around, I could see the contours and silhouettes of plants and the hoodoos against the canyon walls and all of the beautiful rock formations.

    I kept walking and walking, and the stars came out.

    But eventually, the fear came creeping back into my mind. My gut tugged at me like it was saying, “Hey, you sure you wanna keep going?”

    Again, I tried to ignore it but it lingered.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): Oh my gosh. I'm still walking. What the heck?

    STEPFANIE (narration): I took out my phone and opened up Google Maps. I didn’t have reception in the canyon, but I had downloaded a map of the area ahead of time. It’s a precaution I often take, when I go hiking somewhere new. I looked at the little blue dot on the map, showing me where I was. It looked like I was more than halfway back to the campsite. OK. I can do this. I kept walking.

    But then, the path began to get steep. And the opposing cliffs got closer to each other. And then they joined together like two hands intertwining their fingers. It was a dead end.

    I reached out and attempted to climb the rock, but it felt too dangerous. I didn’t know how to rock climb.

    I checked my map and compared it to Google Maps. And that’s when I realized that I wasn’t where I thought I was. And not only that — I was sort of trapped.

    As panic started to set in, I also felt myself disconnect from my body. Like a scene from a thriller movie, where I’m the audience, and I’m watching this character struggle at the bottom of this tiny canyon.

    And then, thoughts started crowding my mind: This can’t be happening. I should’ve listened to my gut. Why did I think it was okay to go on this hike alone when it was getting dark? What if there’s a creepy person following me? What if I don’t make it back to the campground tonight?

    I felt so alone.

    This hike was supposed to be short and easy. But I had already been out for two hours. And it was anything but easy.

    The fear in my gut intensified.

    WILLOW: Hey, it’s Willow. We’ll hear the rest of the story in a moment. But first — if you’ve ever faced an unexpected night in the backcountry, you probably spent some time worrying about how you were going to stay warm. So I want to tell you about our sponsor, Rumpl.

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    And now, back to the story.

    STEPFANIE: By now, it was completely dark. And since I was at this dead end, I had no choice but to turn back. I hoped I’d be able to retrace my steps and get back the way I came.

    I dug out my headlamp, but it didn’t do much to help me orient myself. If anything, it made me more scared. Illogical fears started crowding into my brain. Like in those horror films where a monster could pop out of nowhere.

    I was starting to get paranoid.

    In the distance, I heard yelping. Maybe a pack of coyotes. A few minutes later, I heard a noise, like something scuttling in front of me. Could it be a lizard? A mouse? A snake?

    I shone my headlamp on the canyon floor, trying to see my footsteps so I could follow them back. But I couldn’t see them. It was like the sand had swallowed up any trace of where I’d come from.

    I squinted my eyes, trying to read the cliffs and search for clues. But their shapes looked too similar.

    I walked and walked, but I kept hitting dead ends. I was starting to get tired.

    I checked Google Maps for hints but it wasn’t much help.

    As I walked, I started talking. Out loud. I talked to the ground, the animals I couldn’t see, the cliffs, the moon. I asked everything around me, “Could you help me find my way? Please?”

    Of course, I wasn’t expecting any of them to actually say something. But I didn’t know what else to do. I just had to tap into my spirituality, to keep me grounded in some way.

    It helped a little. But only for a moment or two. Then the panic would set in again.

    Finally, I sat on a rock to take a break. I was so nervous I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was that I really didn’t want to spend the night in this canyon.

    And then, I happened to look up at the moon. It was full. It laid a blanket of soft light over the canyon, just barely enough to see shadows.

    As I sat there, gazing at the moon, a memory drifted into my mind. Or rather, a story my mother had told me.

    A story from her childhood.

    JENNIFER AGUILAR (montage): The moonlight. The moonlight. Moonlight. Guided by the moonlight.

    STEPFANIE: My mom grew up in the Philippines. And when she was nine years old, her mother — my grandmother — was offered a job, far away from home.

    JENNIFER: And she has to take it even if it's so far from us. Even if it means she has to be separated from us, from her kids and her husband. She needed to get the job because she has to help support the family.

    STEPFANIE: My grandmother — Lola — left with their two babies to work in the mountains while my grandfather — Lolo — stayed behind and took care of the older kids, including my mom. By the way, Lola means grandmother in Tagalog and Lolo means grandfather.

    Every few months, Lolo would travel with the kids to visit Lola and the babies. And the trip they made — it’s something my mom remembers so vividly. Because it was really hard.

    JENNIFER: We have to get up early, like 4 a.m., because we need to take the bus.

    STEPFANIE: This wasn’t a simple trip. The bus would take hours to reach the coast, where they would wait for a bangka, which was a dugout canoe.

    JENNIFER: We stay in the boat for at least four to five hours.

    STEPFANIE: At the time, my mom didn't know how to swim. There were no life vests either.

    JENNIFER: You have to keep still while you are sitting down because they will get mad at you. You might outbalance the bangka, and you might fall and capsize.

    STEPFANIE: Capsizing was a very real risk. And it was extra scary because my mom’s imagination ran wild.

    JENNIFER: I was looking for ghosts or something scary because it was so dark at night.

    STEPFANIE: After the boat ride, they had to walk for six or seven hours. Alone. Through the jungle.

    JENNIFER: It was hard for me and for my two brothers, who are still small, to walk in a very dark, dark place. We didn't even have a flashlight. Only the moonlight.

    My father is an expert of navigating even if there is no trail. I sometimes see him looking at the vegetations, the trees, the forms of the mountains, the forms of the hills.

    STEPFANIE: They walked on fallen trees, branches, and bamboo with only rubber slippers on.

    JENNIFER: We pass by the swamp, where our legs are buried. Sometimes it's knee deep, sometimes it's waist deep. So my father has to pull us out from the mud. Sometimes, my father would tell me, “Step on my footsteps, after me.” So that's what I did, because it means that, when he steps on it, it's already safe.

    STEPFANIE: So, reality check. This was in the 1960s, in the rural Philippines. My mom and Lolo were doing all this without any outdoor gear. No hiking shoes. No compass. No map.

    JENNIFER: We only packed two sets of clothes. We don't have food or snacks to pack up.

    STEPFANIE: What about water?

    JENNIFER: No.

    STEPFANIE: How did you, how did you–

    JENNIFER: We don't have bottled water before.

    STEPFANIE: How did you drink water?

    JENNIFER: We didn't, we did not until we reached the house.

    STEPFANIE: You mean it would take a whole day?

    JENNIFER: Yeah. Yeah. So…

    STEPFANIE: Did anyone cry at any point?

    JENNIFER: No. We cannot even complain.

    STEPFANIE: My mom had shared this story with me a handful of times. But until now, I had never connected with it very strongly. Her stories were like photos in a dusty old album. They felt so distant.

    But now? Lost and alone in the desert, the story felt much more relatable. The fears my mom had felt, as a 9-year-old hiking through the jungle at night? They weren’t that different than the fears I was feeling. Navigating in the dark wasn’t easy for her and Lolo either.

    As I thought about everything she had been through, my own situation started to feel less dire. I had more than enough to survive a night. I carried plenty of water and snacks. I had a jacket for extra warmth. Worst-case scenario, I’d have to sleep outside without a tent. Which is not life-threatening. It would just be uncomfortable. An inconvenience.

    At that moment, I felt a bit ashamed. Not just about me getting lost in the desert. I felt shame in my quarter-life crisis.

    Even though I was jobless, I had somewhere to go. My parents welcomed me home. I was still on their health insurance. I had my own car. Having a job was important, but I didn’t need to figure out all my career or life goals right away.

    As I sat at the bottom of the canyon in the moonlight, thinking all these things, I felt myself softening. It was still dark, and I still didn’t know how to get back to the campground. But I wasn’t so scared anymore. And my heart had calmed.

    Finally, I could think and see more clearly. And once my mind was clearer, I realized I could handle this. I had the skills to find a way out of this mess.

    I thought back to my mom’s story. Lolo was able to figure out the way without a map or a compass. He just needed to read his surroundings using the moonlight, his memory, and his own knowledge.

    I felt that if he could do it, I could somehow pull this off. And I began to trust that I was going to be alright.

    I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and retraced my steps in my mind, scanning my memory.

    Then I remembered seeing the family portrait of Joshua Trees. If I could locate them, then I’d be able to find that one trail that first connected me to the bottom of this canyon.

    It wasn’t easy. There were so many Joshua trees. I encountered more dead ends. But I could feel that I was getting closer. That’s what my gut was telling me.

    And then finally, I found them. The family of Joshua trees. A crowded bunch in the blue shadow. From there, I found the trail and…

    STEPFANIE (field recording): I made it to the top. Wow.

    STEPFANIE (narration): I was back at the viewpoint, where I could see the nature trail.

    STEPFANIE (field recording): Okay. Now it's time to go to my campsite.

    STEPFANIE (narration): I made it back to the campground just fine. There were no animal attacks. No injuries. No need to sleep outside without a tent.

    Remembering my mom’s story had calmed me down enough that I was able to think clearly and find my way.

    But more importantly, I learned something meaningful that night in the desert. I learned how important family stories can be, when you’re trying to move through this world.

    Since that trip, I’ve turned to my mother’s stories over and over again. Stories like why we migrated to another country, stories about eating and sharing what little food was available, and how it was hard to find a job in the Philippines.

    These stories are humbling. And I’ve come to learn that they offer me solace in my own life. When we go through tough times, it’s easy to get overwhelmed. And remembering that my family members went through their own hardships and were able to navigate them, it makes everything less daunting.

    Whatever I’m facing, if I tap into their stories — their memories — I stop feeling so alone. And often, that’s all you need to find your way in the world.

    WILLOW: That was Stepfanie Aguilar. She’s an audio maker living in California. She’s also a recipient of the Whicker Awards, which support emerging documentary makers throughout the world. You can see more of her work at www.stepfaniea.com, and I have a link to that at our website as well.

    Music in this story included works from Marc Merza and Blue Dot Sessions.

    Coming up next time on Out There, Carolyn McDonald was struggling. Big time.

    CAROLYN MCDONALD: That was just one of those melt-down days. It was a melt-down morning. And I just, at my dining room table, I just like OK, ok. And I stopped, and I said, “Just go to the beach.”

    WILLOW: Tune in on May 18 for a story about rekindling hope, when the tide is at its lowest.

    One thing you can do to support Out There is leave a review on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you’re listening right now. We’re always eager for new listeners, and your recommendation is our best form of advertising. If you’ve already left us a review, thank you so much.

    Out There is a proud member of a podcast collective called Hub & Spoke.

    One of the other shows in the collective is called Print is Dead. (Long Live Print!). It’s a podcast about magazines and the people who make (or made) them. You can find Print is Dead. (Long Live Print!) wherever you get your podcasts, or at longliveprint.co.

    I’d like to give a big thank you to our presenting sponsor, PeakVisor.

    PeakVisor is an app that helps you make the most of your time in the mountains. It’s got intricate 3D maps and other features that help with trip planning and route finding. And they have a peak identification feature, to help you figure out what mountains you’re looking at, when you’re out on adventures.

    If you’d like your own personal mountain guide, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.

    Today’s story was written and narrated by Stefpanie Aguilar. Script editing and sound design by me, Willow Belden.

    Out There’s advertising manager is Jessica Taylor. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.

    We’ll see you in two weeks. And in the meantime, have a beautiful day, be bold, go outside, and find your dreams.

 

Credits

Story by Stepfanie Aguilar

Script editing and sound design by Willow Belden

Music includes works from Marc Merza and Blue Dot Sessions

Links

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