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The last pack trip |
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Friday, 04 January 2008 |
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Along the Trail
by David McNeill
 The elderly gentleman said goodbye to his beloved Sierra for the last time PHOTO BY DAVID MCNEILL
"I lost my father-in-law up at Chickenfoot Lake on the other side of Cottonwood Pass," said one of the men. He went on to explain how the three of them arrived at the lake near dark on the previous day. He told his father in law to wait at the outlet, while he and his friend searched for a suitable place to camp. When they returned, the father in law was missing. They made camp and started searching for hours the next morning, to no avail. They asked other hikers they met on the trail if anyone had seen him, but nobody had. They decided to pack out to the trailhead to seek help, and that is where I met up with them.
I felt that there was something strange about their story. They seemed to be angry with the father-in-law for getting lost and ruining their backpack trip. There was something disturbing about it, but I had other things to do, like call in a missing persons report on the radio. Dispatch said they would contact Fresno Search and Rescue, which would have to respond from the other side of the mountains. Meanwhile, I said I would begin a search but did not have a hand-held radio. My only radio was in the truck. I did, however, have my trusty Springer spaniel, Windy, with me, and I knew I could depend on her superb nose, eyesight and hearing to help me in the search.
We took off from the trailhead and encountered a young couple. I inquired if they had seen the elderly gentleman, and they said they had—about a half-hour up the trail near the top of the pass on his way down. What a relief it was to hear that he was safe, and that I would catch up with him shortly. When I finally reached him, he was moving slowly with his head down. He was beat and tuckered out. I shook his hand, and told him how happy I was to see him. Windy started jumping all around like a circus dog, because she was so excited. I took the fellow's backpack and continued to walk out with him to the trailhead.
I asked him what happened and he said, "I don't know what happened. We got to the lake, and I walked off. It was dark, and I got under a big rock. I didn't have a sleeping bag, and had very little food or water. I crouched down under the rock and waited it out until sunrise. I was able to find the trail and met up with some kids, who told me how to get back to the parking lot."
I really didn't want to say to him at that moment that I thought his son-in-law and his friend were selfish and careless for leaving him in the first place. Rule number one is that you never split up in the backcountry or leave someone alone. Always stay together and keep it together.
It was a hot day as we walked back toward the parking area, and he began to share some stories with me. He said, "When I was a boy I packed in and camped out with my dad on hunting trips in the Sierra. After WWII I got into four-wheeling with my army jeep. On my time off from work I started hiking into the Sierra with my old army pack. I couldn't wait to get back into the mountains every summer and I've hiked every year to this day.
What happened last night made me realize that I have done my last backpack trip. I'm 86 years old now, and I just can't do it anymore. I know that my wife and daughter are really worried about me right now, and I thank you for your help."
Looking into those sad, tired eyes, I saw a reflection of myself. I could see that someday this would be me. I will be the one having to hang up the pack, because there comes a time when we all hit the end of the trail. When we arrived back at the trailhead, the son-in-law and his friend started weeping and hugging their prodigal father. Oh, what a joyous moment that was, and they were immediately on the cell phone to the wife and daughter. I rushed back to my truck and radioed to call off the search.
As I looked over at the happy reunion I thought, "Those guys are darn lucky that the weather was warm, and that he didn't freeze to death up on the mountain." A lot of scenarios could have been played out that day, and this one turned out positively. It could just as easily have gone the other way and been a stupid tragedy, which happens all the time out along the trail, so don't let it happen to you. Until I write again, happy trails to you.
David McNeill has lived in Bishop since 1974, working for the Water District and the Forest Service for most of that time. At home in the wilderness, he does a lot of hiking with Windy, his Springer spaniel. With a taste for writing that he explored during stints at Mammoth's Channel 5 and the Mono Herald, he has a drawer full
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Last Updated ( Friday, 11 January 2008 )
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