Visiting my grandparents one summer at age nine, I was dropped off at the municipal swimming pool about ten blocks from their home in Lincoln, Nebraska.  I assured my mother I knew the way back and she need not pick me up.  I could walk back to Grandma’s.  Fright experienced later that day when I became lost has never been forgotten. 

Rita and I looked forward in retirement to traveling to places visited before vicariously only in magazines. We checked one such place off our list with a visit to the Grand Canyon this spring during a two-night stay at the El Tovar Hotel located on the south rim in Grand Canyon National Park. Built in 1905, the historic hotel was quaint, cozy and a convenient place to peer into the depths of the gorge just outside the back door.  Shuttle buses transported sight-seers along the edge of the canyon sun-up to sun-down for hiking, exploration of historic buildings and to learn more about the spectacular marvel at the visitor center.  In addition to recording impressive videos, my phone notched nearly 10,000 steps each day. The American Heart Association says adults should exercise 150 minutes each week at a “moderately intensive aerobic level.”  The Grand Canyon isn’t needed for this. A brisk walk around the block will do.  

​In 2019, without any thought of steps, we joined friends on a Rhine River cruise.  The trip began in Lucerne, Switzerland, and ended in Amsterdam with several stops between along the beautiful river. One of the first shore excursions was in Strasbourg, France, to view a magnificent astronomical clock with a lengthy history found in the Cathedral Notre-Dame. The hike from the bus to, inside and around the Cathedral drained all sap from my legs. It was time for me to return to the bus and allow the rest of the group to carry on without me.  I arrived at the earlier drop-off location, then recalled returning buses were to be found elsewhere.  In an attempt to retrace steps to the Cathedral, trouble started. 

​I wandered through Strasbourg, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Cathedral’s spires above the buildings along narrow streets.  After a time, buildings began to repeat themselves. I was wandering in circles, much as I did when I was lost walking to Grandma’s after swimming in Nebraska.  In addition, the fear not felt since then returned, churning in my stomach.  It was time to set my stubbornness aside and accept that my self-proclaimed internal compass had let me down.  I was indeed lost.  

​I was reluctant to make or receive any cell calls on the trip - fearing the added charge for using a phone on the other side of the planet would break the bank.   I dialed Rita’s number anyway.   When she answered, I gave her an abbreviated version of my predicament -not knowing where I was. ”Turn around,” she said.

​”What do you mean?” I asked.

​”I mean… turn around,” she repeated. 

​I spun to look behind me, then saw Rita standing in a street-side cafe with her phone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, waving the phone my direction.  As I joined Rita and her sister at the table, Rita couldn’t resist.  ”I thought you were the guy with his own internal GPS who never gets lost.  Maybe we should find you some cookie crumbs to drop along your path so you can navigate your way around and back.”

​On the boat later, I reflected on that fateful day in Nebraska, when I almost became an orphan and how lucky I was to find a kind neighbor’s door to knock on for help.  If only my phone could have helped this time, adding just 200 more steps in the right direction to the 17,000 already recorded in Strasbourg. If so, I might have maintained my reputation of having an IGPS (Internal Global Positioning Sense) after deceptively claiming it more than six decades earlier in the Cornhusker State.