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In a moment of carelessness — and having broken every sensible woodsman's rules by traveling alone and without my GPS receiver — I lost the path in a section where there were few blazes.
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Towards the rim of Kinder's summit plateau, as the clough becomes a spread fan of sparkling tributaries, I lose the path and so follow a series of sheep trods to the top.
He'd lost the path.
One wheel lost the path and the truck lurched to the side, lost its footing, and rolled slowly toward the water, depositing several coaches unceremoniously into the drink.
One was from two men from Essex who lost the path due to snow on a steep face by Devil's Kitchen at the back of Cwm Idwal.
Where did Barcelona lose the path?
The poem opens: "When I'd journeyed halfway through this life of ours, I found myself within a shadowy forest, for I had lost the proper path".
In the last 3 4 years, though, I can honestly state that somewhere I lost my path.
"I'm in here," says Richard, "because I lost that dream path".
I lose sight of the path.
The same year I was starting to question my path, I lost friends to cancer, car accidents and heart attacks — all were under the age of 40.
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Since I tried Ludwig back in 2017, I have been constantly using it in both editing and translation. Ever since, I suggest it to my translators at ProSciEditing.

Justyna Jupowicz-Kozak
CEO of Professional Science Editing for Scientists @ prosciediting.com