He had the map. He had the gear. What he didn't have was any idea where he was.
Three hours into what was supposed to be a two-hour hike, the trail had disappeared and the trees all looked the same. Panic crept in at the edges.
Then he remembered the compass in his chest pocket — his father's compass, old and dented, given to him at eighteen with only one instruction: "When everything looks the same, find north first. The rest follows."
He found north. Then east. Then the trail.
But the thing he carried home wasn't just the compass. It was the realization that being lost isn't failure — it's just a moment before finding your direction again.
This sticker is for anyone between trails right now. North is still there.