We were sitting in our living room, watching another murder story on Dateline or 48 Hours, and I vocalized that we needed to get out and have an adventure. I didn’t feel that we were building good memories for the future (you know, when we are too old to do this stuff, and we sit in our rockers and reflect on life). The High Sierra’s were calling to me. The summer had disappeared and if we didn’t act soon, there would be snow in the Sierra’s. We hadn’t had a true backpacking trip in several years, and I wasn’t about to give up another year. We had recently returned from Northern California, and now were about to return to watch our grandchildren play their fall sports events. The weather had been in its normal late summer pattern of monsoonal moisture moving up the east side of the Sierra’s. This isn’t good for backpacking, because you can easily get caught up in a thunder and lightning storm with granite, lakes, and tall trees all around you. But now, the weather looked like it was being influenced by a winter-like storm coming down from Alaska. I figured we had a good week of weather, if we acted right away.
Well, we got our adventure. Lucky for us, the government had just shut down, and there was no way to get a wilderness permit (which must normally be obtained several months, not several hours in advance) or worries about anyone checking to see if we had permits. Kent and Sarah recently stayed with us for a week before traveling to Kauai on a backpacking adventure of their own. The memory of them packing their backpacks in the living room was inspiration to me. It is too bad that I didn’t pay particular attention to the fact that they were making good weight decisions as to what was a need and what was a luxury. I gathered all of our “essential” things for our trip, and then proceeded to pack it into our two backpacks. I think I may have over-estimated what was essential versus what is nice to have. I was proud of the fact that I was able to pack everything into the packs. We should be fine, being as I bought these particular backpack models because they could only hold so much. What I didn’t plan on was the fact that they also had some pretty great ways to tie things to them. Anyway, I didn’t want to unpack everything in order to reduce our weight. Our bodies would get used to it, once we got started.
Well, we made it from the Onion Valley Trailhead parking lot, at just over 9,000 feet, to a spot almost two miles and 1,200 feet up. Mary Lou, Dojah, our 13 year-old dog, and I were spent. We put our packs down and rested. This was becoming a recurring pattern. At this point we were part way up a set of switchbacks that connected two lakes. We had nearly a half-mile to go that involved climbing the rest of the switchbacks, then negotiating around rocks in a large glacial moraine that ended at the lake we wanted to establish camp. It was getting late, and the temperature dropped markedly in the shadows. We decided to leave some of our gear at this spot and then come back and get it. Even with the much lighter packs, we were exhausted and had a hard time completing the hike. We would rest with our hands on our knees and the pack up high on our backs for long periods. At some point, I passed Mary Lou which left me in the front, Mary Lou next, resting, and then Dojah who was also having a hard time with some of the tall steps in the trail. We are not quite sure how it happened, but once we got to the top of the switchbacks, we realized that Dojah wasn’t with us. We called for her, but that doesn’t help too much, being as Dojah’s 13 year-old ears didn’t work very well anymore. This was not good at all. We still had to negotiate over the moraine, empty our backpacks and go back to get the rest of our gear and get back before it turned dark. We were above 10,000 feet, and it gets seriously cold once the sun goes down. When we left from the stashed gear, Dojah didn’t want to come with us. After calling some more, we decided (erroneously) that she probably went back to the gear. We continued to the lake, emptied our backpacks and returned to gather the rest of our gear and hopefully, Dojah. Well, Dojah was nowhere to be seen (which she doesn’t do so well, either) or heard. After getting our gear back to our camp and setting up our tent and putting on all of our clothes, and eating an energy bar, we took our flashlights and headed down the hill. We figured that she must have returned to the truck, if we couldn’t find her on the way down. After calling for her all the way down, we arrived at the truck without Dojah at about 8:00 PM. On the way down, I fantasized on finding Dojah at the truck and then driving down the hill and spending the night in a hotel in Independence. We could at least set up a tent and sleep in sleeping bags I left at the truck. Unfortunately, I soon realized that I had left the truck keys in my backpack, which was over two miles up the trail. After trying, unsuccessfully, to break into our truck, we treaded up the hill to spend one of the coldest and most uncomfortable nights in our lives.
We woke up the next morning; cold, stiff, and worried about Dojah. We ate a quick breakfast and then started down the hill, looking for Dojah on both sides of the trail and in the switchbacks. We found little caves and spots Dojah could have bedded for the night, but found no sign of her. When we reached the lake below us, we sat down and tried to form a better search plan. We decided to go back up to our camp and begin the process of moving our gear down the hill and setting up a camp at the truck. We could use this as a base as we continued to look for Dojah. We started back up the hill, wondering what could have happened to her. As we trudged up the trail, I ended up in the front, with Mary Lou a switchback or two behind me. As I started a turn on a switchback, Mary Lou yelled something at me. She thought she heard something in the bushes off the trail and was asking if I was there. My answer came from another direction, and then Dojah came stumbling out of those bushes off the side of the trail! Poor Dojah, she could barely stand and drank up what water we had as if she hadn’t had a drink in a week. Evidently, she had tried unsuccessfully to climb over the large rocks of the glacial moraine. The repeated attempts caused her muscles to cramp, which then made it impossible. She couldn’t walk, so I carried her up the hill to our campsite.
It was quite a wonderful feeling to have found Dojah, but now we were at a lake above 10,000 feet with more gear than we should carry and a dog who couldn’t stand or walk. As we sat around our campfire trying to formulate a plan, we noticed a couple hikers coming up the trail.
I am a firm believer in karma; that what goes around, comes around. I had experienced bad karma coming back to me, but I can’t remember good karma coming back to me as it did this day.
We caught the couple’s attention and they came over to our camp. As it turned out, the woman was a veterinarian. She taught veterinarian medicine at UC Davis. Her hiking partner was a MacGyver type person. What a pair of trail angels! They were on their way up the trail to meet up with friends who were hiking the John Muir trail. They were bringing them provisions and planned to hike their garbage out. After the woman diagnosed Dojah as being dehydrated and experiencing muscle cramps, they continued their journey with a promise to return to help us get Dojah down the hill. As soon as they left, we packed up our belongings. We still had too much gear to carry down in one trip. We resigned ourselves to having to make two trips.
After a couple hours, our trail angels reappeared to help us. MacGyver rigged up a stretcher using a couple long poles and a sleeping bag. He carried the two poles over his shoulder, and I took the back of the poles over my shoulders. We ended up bringing everything down in one trip because they helped carry some of our gear. Poor MacGyver had his pack in the front of him. We struggled, but we were able to get everything down. At one point, we sat down to rest. We had just finished coming down the steepest part and were pretty exhausted. There was about a mile left, so we decided to see if Dojah could walk this last bit. She was a little shaky, but was able to manage it. We all got up and left. All, that is, except for me. As everyone was leaving, I was trying to stand upright, but couldn’t. I was stuck, and everyone had just left. I felt like the Kafka beetle trying to get upright. I finally took my backpack off, positioned it on a rock and barely got it back on while standing on my feet. Once I started walking down the trail, I was able to get my rhythm back.
We got to our truck without further incident. After thanking our trail angels profusely and walking back to our truck, we heard another couple approach them for a ride back down to the valley. I guess their day of helping wasn’t over for them yet.
As I look back on that experience, I realize how easy it is for things to go terribly wrong in the wilderness, if you are not paying the proper attention it deserves. We horribly underestimated our ability to carry overweight packs up a steep mountain. I might have managed this burden when I was much younger, but it is hard to accept that you are not as strong as in your youth. We also should have thought more of Dojah’s situation. She was a 13 year-old dog who had hearing and vision problems. We just assumed that she could handle anything that we could handle. First of all, this wasn’t true, and second, we couldn’t handle the trail, either. But the biggest take-away of this adventure is the confirmation of my belief in guardian angels and the law of karma. Our poor guardian angels had to work overtime on that adventure!
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