alone in nature

I wake up, step onto my second-story terrace, and look out onto Sebaco Lake. It's hard not to be awed  by its beauty.

The grounds are stunning.

I bump into the groom on my way to breakfast.

Although I'm not particularly hungry, I still eat a lot: a muffin, pancakes with Maine blueberries, and bacon. A few of us hang out at  one of the cottages for a while, and then I decide to go for a walk alone — along the trails winding through the woods.

But first, I check with the front desk on two issues.

"You can't get lost on the trails, right." The woman at the front desk assures me that I can't.

I next need assurance on the wildlife.

"Are there any bears here?" 

"We've never been told of any," she responds.

So I decide it's safe enough to go alone; I  even leave my phone behind.

It's quiet.

Majestic, even.

Eventually I see some others; I ask for a photo and they comply.

I continue walking, After a while I find myself on a secluded road. 

No cars. 

No people. 

Just me. 

Initially I think, "This is so nice. Just me and nature."

But that doesn't last long. Soon I'm imagining disastrous possibilities.

What if I do get lost? 

What if I miss tonight's wedding? 

Where would I find shelter if I had to sleep out here? I bet it'd be freezing once the sun goes down. 

I have no phone. I can't even call for help.  

What should I do if  see a bear, even though I'm told there are no bears? What if the desk clerk was wrong?

Oh, and I forgot to ask about moose. Do they wander these woods? Do they ever attack people?

I turn back, grab a picnic lunch, and read for a few hours before the wedding.