Post by balzaccom on Jul 14, 2024 8:13:10 GMT -8
You may remember that I write mystery novels set in the High Sierra. And every once in a while, we see something on one of our trips that sets my mind to thinking...
As my wife and I hiked out of Lyell Canyon in Yosemite on Saturday, fleeing morning rainshowers and afternoon thunderstorms, we passed a man down by the river. He was heavy-set, holding two bottles of water, and struggling to put on his pack. He waved at us, we waved back at him and continued on our way.
Five minutes later, my wife decided that her combination of layers of clothing was making her too hot to hike. We stopped for her to shed one layer and adjust her shoes and hiking poles. We drank some water, and we did so, the man passed us. He mentioned that he'd made it to within 500 feet of the top of Donahue pass the previous day, and decided to turn around in the face of the thunderstorms. We said we understood--which we certainly did.
And now he was on his way out. "You wait all year to plan for this, and get your reservation made, and then this happens." He was visibly tired, limping, and frustrated as he hiked off ahead of us.
Fifteen minutes later we caught up to him, resting in the shade, as we hiked on by. "I didn't know you were going to run," he said to me as I passed him. I just smiled and wave. Anyone who describes our hiking pace as running deserves a gesture of consideration. Thru-hikers had been flying by us all morning.
We hiked another two miles before meeting a ranger on horseback, looking concerned. Have you seen a spot device on the trail?" he asked.
We had not.
"Have you seen a heavy-set hiker on the trail?"
Yes, we had, and directed him up the canyon.
And that got us to thinking. It was a mystery. What do you think happened? Our thoughts in the next post--but don't read them until you've had your own cogitation.
As my wife and I hiked out of Lyell Canyon in Yosemite on Saturday, fleeing morning rainshowers and afternoon thunderstorms, we passed a man down by the river. He was heavy-set, holding two bottles of water, and struggling to put on his pack. He waved at us, we waved back at him and continued on our way.
Five minutes later, my wife decided that her combination of layers of clothing was making her too hot to hike. We stopped for her to shed one layer and adjust her shoes and hiking poles. We drank some water, and we did so, the man passed us. He mentioned that he'd made it to within 500 feet of the top of Donahue pass the previous day, and decided to turn around in the face of the thunderstorms. We said we understood--which we certainly did.
And now he was on his way out. "You wait all year to plan for this, and get your reservation made, and then this happens." He was visibly tired, limping, and frustrated as he hiked off ahead of us.
Fifteen minutes later we caught up to him, resting in the shade, as we hiked on by. "I didn't know you were going to run," he said to me as I passed him. I just smiled and wave. Anyone who describes our hiking pace as running deserves a gesture of consideration. Thru-hikers had been flying by us all morning.
We hiked another two miles before meeting a ranger on horseback, looking concerned. Have you seen a spot device on the trail?" he asked.
We had not.
"Have you seen a heavy-set hiker on the trail?"
Yes, we had, and directed him up the canyon.
And that got us to thinking. It was a mystery. What do you think happened? Our thoughts in the next post--but don't read them until you've had your own cogitation.
