It's 3 a.m. on Isle Royale in rural Michigan.

It is the least visited national park in the country.

The sun is long, long gone, and two hikers are dreadfully lost.

It was terrifying.

We got lost around three in the morning in the middle of a rock field.

This is Roger Dickie.

He and his travel buddy had been hiking and canoeing all day long.

By 11 p.m., they had made it only 10 out of the 20 miles they needed to get back to their

camp.

By 3 a.m., when they arrived at the rock field, they were utterly, completely lost.

So you're hiking a quarter mile just over nothing but bear rock.

You have to, when you get to the other side, try to find where the trail continues.

No trees to use as landmarks.

No trail markers, just a sea of identical rocks in the pitch black, barely halfway home.

They had some supplies, iodine tablets, a GPS, but it was all pretty much cold comfort.

This is an extremely remote location, as far as I know there were no ranger outposts

in the area.

Roger went looking for the trail.

He hiked out half a mile in every direction, making a star pattern.

While he was looking, his hiking buddy stayed put in the middle of the rock field.

She said at her age points, she heard rustling in the forest and she called out my name and

I didn't answer.

...