My SNF Adventure - Page 4

I resumed my trek, thinking that a junction lay about 1/2 mile ahead. To my surprise however, I encountered a trail junction within a hundred yards of the slope leading up to the rock formation. I turned and started up the grassy pathway, but then I paused and turned around. This trail couldn't be the one that led back to the Picnic Area. My little map couldn't be that poorly drawn, could it?. The map indicated one rock formation and one trail junction on this loop. All of the other trails had been marked. There were signs at all of the other junctions. This unmarked trail had to be a side trail. Confident that my previous course was correct, I returned to the R2R trail.

After passing another set of cliffs, with another set of campfire debris, the trail began to slowly descend to a lower elevation. I had consumed the last mouthful my of water supply by now. My body demands lots of water, typically about a quart per hour, when I'm hiking. Despite Larry Rice's claims of flowing streams, The Garden Of The Gods was a desert. I saw plenty of rocky gullies and well-sorted patches of sand. Streams run there from time to time. The evidence of flowing water was clear to me. I might have saved the last cupful of my precious water, but the end of this journey was surely close at hand.

I plodded through the forest looking for my turn. I thought about water with increasing intensity. How much farther would I have to go? This was only supposed to be a two-mile hike. I started to sense that something was wrong as I pushed on further. I wasn't exactly lost, but I was starting to worry.

With every step I searched for another trail. This path seemed to go on forever. Before long, I found myself approaching a fairly steep, rocky slope. I was glad not to be carrying a backpack. That hill was an ankle-twister. From the bottom of the hill, the terrain leveled off for about another 1/4 to 1/2 mile. I spotted a clearing up ahead. My pace quickened, as I began to think that I had found the footway back to the Picnic Area.

My excitement changed to despair, and disappointment gave way to anger. I stood in a clearing at an abandoned Forest Service road. A large USFS sign loomed in front of me. I had hiked about 2 miles too far. Herod was 2-3 miles away to the southwest. I didn't stay put for long. I had dallied long enough on the rocky hill, the ankle-twister, when I pondered the wooden posts that looked suspiciously like old sign posts. But I didn't see any evidence of converging trails back there. The only junction that I saw was way back at the Big H. Or was that the Big H, after all?

Okay. I'm just a little desperate now.

This was a time for decisive action. I was out of water and very thirsty. My feet were sore, and I only had enough daylight to get back to camp. I had plenty of time to ponder my situation while on the move. I decided to backtrack, to head back to the Big H or whatever it was, and take the unmarked trail. Within seconds, I was retracing my steps.

I tried to walk as fast as possible, without over-exerting myself. I was dehydrated, and I didn't want to make that condition worse by sweating too much. I could sense a change in the weather. The air was getting cooler, and I was sure it would rain before long. I stopped at the second set of cliffs, the rocks west of the unmarked junction, to rest. I laid myself down on the precipice for a few minutes. I thought about staying there to wait for the rain. After careful consideration, however, I decided to push on. Just as the air was cooling in advance of the storm, it would be even cooler when the rain came. I didn't have any shelter or warm clothing. Hypothermia would only make my situation worse. I resisted the urge to stay at the cliffs, and I resumed my desperate journey.

Some people say that the best survival tool that one has is one's brain. My predicament wasn't that bad, but it could get worse. The decisions that I made from this point could be critical. Panic, confusion, and bad judgement are common elements in many tragic survival stories. Rational thought was my best friend.