You can't get there from here.
Coon hunting was a the favorite pastime of my father. For a young kid that mostly translates into being in the woods in the middle of the night with with no idea how long you will be there or what you are doing next. It was still fun but it was strange and draining.
One of the last times I was in the woods with my father we were in a section of woods we didn't hunt much. In fact I didn't know anyone who spent much time in those woods. Despite it being just around the state-away from town it was one hill over from tunnel hill which was and is still considered cursed. This hill on the other hand has no stories or no legends. It was simply unexplored.
So we are out listening to the dog run and trying to make paths in the woods. We all picked a direction and tried to find the best path though to the next section and get closer to the dogs. I took a path down a strip mine hill which typically is a hill of decently packed small rocks with some small trees up and down it. It went well at first and I got to the bottom but I discovered briers. The kind with the good 1 inch razor sharp thorns. I wasn't ready to forge a new path through them in the dark so I tried to skirt around them. Only it just got darker and more tangled. I had to give up after 30 min and decided to retrace around where I came from. It kept getting darker but it was easy enough to find my path because all other directions were the 1 inch razor sharp thorns. I could still hear the dogs in the direction I should be going but there was no way to make it. My way was a bust. I found where I had stomped down the hill and scrambled back up using the small tries to make it back up the hill.
When I got back to the starting point I saw dad. Only it wasn't the starting point. The dogs were yelling from the wrong side and the area didn't look at all liek where we had split. "Took you long enough" dad said to me. Something was wrong. "What way is North?" I asked dad. "What direction does your Indian senses tell you" dad said. I looked around quit. Something was wrong. It had been a night so dark I couldn't see a thing but there was the full moon hanging high in the sky. I looked at dad pointed to what should have been north from where I came, "That should be north." I said, but them I pointed at the moon. "but that says north is that way." I said pointing 90 degrees from where I was just pointing.
I looked at what should have been the hill I had just come up and down. It wasn't even strip mine hill. It didn't have thorns and it wasn't dark. Dad didn't say anything. We hunted for hours more and when it came time to head home the moon showed the proper direction north, but we went over 3 hills I know we didn't cover getting there. I still haven't been back to those woods.