This story about two backpackers whose overnighter into Olympic National Park turned into five days wandering lost in the woods made me wonder if others had similar stories, or worse.
So fess up: click on “add your feedback” and tell us about your brush with disaster.
And maybe Winehiker will tell us about the time he had his head in a bear’s mouth.
Not everyone can “bear” to hear that story, Tom. I haven’t written it yet. Someday I will. Kinda glad I can write anything since that incident. But folks’ll have to build a campfire in Little Yosemite Valley before they read it….
I was part of the Northern CA Hikers legendary Winnemucca storm. It happened last December – we expected to be out in a light snow, maybe a few inches. Our trip was only a couple of miles in since we wanted to get out early on Sunday – a big storm was supposed to be rolling in Sunday night.
The storm ended up coming in early and merging with the system that was already there, dumping 3-4 feet on us with 100 mph gusts. Tents collapsed, gear blew away, and at the first light of day we broke camp and headed back through whiteout conditions. I had my eyes glued to my GPS, making sure we didn’t deviate from the track we took on the way in. Snowshoes weren’t helping in the fresh powdery snow, and the guys took turns breaking trail as we moved slowly through the storm.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, when we got back to the Meiss Snowpark around noon, highway 88 was closed and the lot hadn’t been plowed. I wasn’t feeling well at all (I thought the fresh mountain air would do me good – instead I ended up with a double ear infection and bronchitis 48 hours later), so I crawled into the truck covered in every dry layer I could find while the guys shovelled until about 5 pm. Finally, there was a 200-300 ft long path from our cars to the road, which was being continuously plowed at the time. Once we got out of the parking lot, we had to sit with the stranded Kirkwood traffic while they finished clearing the avalanche danger.
In retrospect, it is an experience I am glad I had – I know that I, and the people I spend a lot of time with out there, are capable in those kind of conditions. However, I don’t think I’d choose to do it again!
We didn’t encounter much good weather last winter – I sure hope this season is better.
Pix of Rebecca’s adventure Here
I’m fortunate not to have any stories yet, but my dad has a couple. This one is my favorite:
He and a friend were a couple days into a trip in the eastern Sierras. They had set up camp above treeline next to an unnamed lake in a small, likewise unnamed basin. In the middle of the night they both awoke to the sound of thunder, expect
Lost overnight alone in the Andes above 16000ft, I wondered if I would die of hypothermia. I shivered for 10 hours. Limped out next day. But couldn’t walk for about 5 days after.
I made the classic blunder – set down my pack – walked on – then could not find the pack.
Photo journal of that adventure in Venezuela:
http://i-needtoknow.com/rick/photos/1997/venezuela/index.html
I was hiking the Sierra Nevada de M
Leading a school group over Indian Pass in the Adirondacks during an early November snowstorm. Our leader bit off more than we could chew.
We started up the pass at 3 PM and didn’t get to a shelter until 4 or 5 the next morning. All of our flashlights failed except for a headlamp with a remote battery pack. I had to walk 20 yards ahead, turn around and light the way and let the group follow. We did this for five or six miles climbing and descending hand over hand, crossing streams and trying to follow a fairly faint trial. All of this in a wet snow with temperatures near or below freezing. The saving grace was that our students were all equipped with warm clothing and raingear otherwise we may have lost someone.
A full days recovery and another three or four inches of snow later we were able to hike out.
Alaska, wild river, inflatable raft, six naive teenagers. We planned to float to a little town from our campsite (we thought it was just a few miles, it was forty). The river was still in spring flood and we broke all of our paddles. We grounded the raft and hiked it out several miles to the only road in a few hundred miles of wilderness (Alaskan Highway). The folks at the town told our pick-up ride that we were probably dead as the glacial temperatures and silt in the water would probably kill us all if the bears didn’t.
We all survived but a friend fell to his death the same day on a hike with others from our party.
Lessons;
When things go bad they go bad real fast.
Never underestimate the weather, a river or a mountain.
Never overestimate your skills, endurance or gear.
The life threatening adventure I’m going to tell you about didn’t happen in any exotic local, it happen in my own backyard (literally).
Several years ago it dropped 6 foot of snow over night.
I was visiting my folks and got trapped at their house for several days until the plows came by. After finding and then digging my car out I drove home, reaching my house in the dark. I parked in a local business’s parking lot and walked home.
After easily stepping over my 6 foot tall fence, I decided that before going into the house I better check the furnace and water heater vents, to make sure they were clear and I wasn’t going to asphyxiate myself. So I fought my way to the backyard and was able to see that the wind had kept them clear.
Then I did a stupid thing, tired from fighting my way through the snow I sat down to rest.
When I tried to stand I found I couldn’t. I had no purchase for my legs and every time I tried to push myself up, my arm sunk into the snow. I struggled for a while and made no progress.
I thought, “Great I’m going to freeze to death in my backyard.”
After awhile I stopped struggling, calmed down, and swam through the snow to my back fence and used it to push myself up.
There have been other occasions when I’ve had close calls in the outdoors, and some of them would make much better stories, but because of the location this time always sticks out in my memory.