The needle points north. You're headed somewhere else.

The job

Leave the trail, cross about a mile of woods to a lake you can't see yet, and get back to the trail by lunch. You've got a paper map, a baseplate compass and no cell signal.

How the rookie does it

I'm the rookie. I've been the rookie. Here's the timeline.

9:05. The compass comes out of my pack's zipper pull, where it has lived for two years as jewelry.

9:20. The trail is "taking the long way around," so I leave it. Phone battery: 61 percent. Confidence: higher.

9:25. I unfold the paper map in a stiff breeze and rotate it until the lake is on the side where it feels like the lake should be. The map is now upside down. It looks fine to me.

9:30. I hold the compass in the same hand as my pocketknife, with the phone pressed against it for stability. The needle swings like it's picking lottery numbers. I choose the direction it seems happiest about.

9:50. I walk with my eyes on the needle, the way you'd watch a toddler near a staircase. I meet a tree. The tree was there first.

10:15. I arrive at a creek and announce it's the lake's early preview. It isn't on my map, or it is and I'm reading the map sideways.

10:40. The phone is at 34 percent, and the blue dot has taken a vacation. My wife had read the map in the truck for about ninety seconds and written road is east of everything in pen along the margin. I'd read it for ten seconds and called it "basically a picture." I walk east. I find the road. She was right, and she was kind enough not to mention it until dinner.

How the veteran does it

The veteran starts at the truck, not the woods.

He sets the declination on his compass for the area, and it stays set. He pencils a line from the trail junction to the lake and notes the handrails: the creek on his left, the road behind him. If things go sideways, he knows which direction takes him to something big and unmissable.

At the junction he takes a bearing, say 62 degrees, and looks up. There's a split boulder dead ahead. He walks to the boulder without looking at the compass once. At the boulder he checks again, picks a dead pine, and walks to that.

At about the halfway point the creek shows up exactly where the map said it would. He nods at it. That quiet satisfaction is the best part of the job and the rookie hasn't earned it yet.

He reaches the lake at 10:00, eats an apple and is back at the truck before the rookie has found the road.

What the veteran knows

1. Declination matters, and it's not small. Magnetic north and true north (the top of your map) don't line up, and the gap depends on where you're standing. It can be fifteen degrees or more in either direction. Ignore fifteen degrees over one mile and you end up about 1,400 feet, more than a quarter mile, from where you meant to be. Check the diagram in the map's margin or NOAA's online calculator, then set it on an adjustable compass.

1. Take the bearing off the map, then leave the map alone. Lay the long edge of the compass along the line from where you are to where you're going, with the direction-of-travel arrow pointing toward the destination. Turn the housing until the orienting lines run parallel to the map's north-south lines, N toward the top. Lift the compass, hold it flat at your belt, and turn your whole body until the red end of the needle sits inside the orienting arrow. The travel arrow now points where you're going.

1. Don't walk the needle. Walk to things. Sight along the arrow, pick a landmark on that line, and go to it. Then do it again. You'll stay on line and you'll stop running into trees.

1. Keep metal and electronics away from the compass. Knives, belt buckles, truck hoods, phones and magnetic phone cases can all pull the needle. An arm's length is a good habit. Hold it level, too, or the needle drags.

1. Read the ground. Contour lines packed together mean steep. The legend tells you the interval, often 40 feet on USGS maps. On a 1:24,000 map, one inch is 2,000 feet. Use handrails like creeks, ridgelines and roads to keep you honest. When you're aiming for something small on a long feature, such as a trail junction or a bridge, aim off on purpose to one side. When you hit the feature, you'll know which way to turn.

1. Count your pace, and time it. Walk a measured 100 meters, count every time your right foot lands, and write the number down. It'll change on slopes and with a heavy pack, so adjust. Pace plus time tells you roughly how far you've gone when the woods all look the same.

1. Plan the way out before the way in, and tell someone. Leave the trailhead, the route and your turnaround time with a person who'll notice if you're late. If you ever realize you truly don't know where you are, stop walking, sit down and read The First Hour After You Realize You Are Lost. Wandering is how short problems get long. Fog and whiteouts erase landmarks fast, so learn the skills in clear weather and see The Weather That Kills Hikers and How to Read It in Time.

The phone is a fine backup. A paper map and a compass don't run out of battery in the cold.

Your first time, done like a veteran

• Buy a baseplate compass with a rotating housing and adjustable declination.
• Get a topographic map of your area. Put it in a zip bag.
• Look up your declination and set it before you leave the house.
• Practice in a local park in daylight. Take a bearing to a tree 200 yards off and walk to it.
• Find your pace count on a measured 100 meters.
• On the trail, pick one handrail and one bail-out direction before you step off.
• Carry the rest of the ten essentials, because a compass solves one problem.
• Tell someone where you're going and when you'll be back.
• Hand the map to your spouse or hiking partner before you leave. If they say "the road is east of everything," listen.