Lost on the Mountain

This week I will tell a story of an experience I had while hiking several years ago. Each day will be another part of the story, concluding on Friday. Enjoy!

Part One

It was a beautiful September day nine years ago when my cousin Laura and I decided to hike to the top of Mt. McLoughlin in Southern Oregon. Neither of us had tried it, but we had heard good things about the 5.5 mile climb.

Being the end of summer, there was no snow but the air was much cooler as we climbed. We did not mind, since the sun and exercise made us quite warm. This particular trail was not formally maintained, but enough hikers had gone on before us that we knew when to switch back and forth. Most places on the trail gave a clear view of the summit.

After gulping down tons of fresh air and entertaining each other with some amusing conversation, Laura and I propelled ourselves up the last few steps, having gained 4000 feet in elevation. We were now at 9500 feet. We stood there on top of the world, looking out across the rolling hills. Off in the distance you could see Mt. Shasta, and in the opposite direction were the Cascades and Mt. Hood. What a glorious feeling! Truly there is nothing so beautiful than to see the vast earth at such heights.

It was nearly dinnertime and the sun was getting lower in the sky. As much as we would have liked to drink in more of this beauty, we needed to head down. Our light lunch was long gone, along with our water. Suddenly a warm bath sounded very inviting.

It was a bit more difficult to find the trail on the way down. It almost looked like a maze in places, with many trails heading off into various directions. We decided that many of the pseudo-trails were likely paths created by the snow when it had melted last spring. These run-offs made it very difficult to find our route, but we headed down in the general direction we knew would be right, figuring we would encounter the trail eventually.

The going was not easy without a trail. We had to climb over large boulders and scoot down a couple of steep sandy ravines. Each new obstacle seemed to present a promise of the trail being just at the bottom, just out of sight. But each time we were disappointed to find the trail was not there at all. Finally we stopped moving downward and began traveling horizontally around the mountain.

By this time we had passed below the timberline, and the ground was thick with fallen twigs and roots. At last, looking up at the pale pink sky, I came to a weary standstill. With the cold wind whipping around us, we finally admitted what we had been denying up to this point. We were lost.

To be continued tomorrow.