My YNP Adventure - Page 3

A Chance to Get Lost

The one last real obstacle lay about one mile east of Moss Creek. After traveling through a seemingly endless stretch of meadow, I came to a section of dense deadfall. The trail was impassable. I took an easterly bearing from my compass and began to circumvent the established footpath.

I mounted a hill that lay to my right. I figured that even if I could not quickly pick up the trail again, I could hold an easterly bearing until I reached the creek. Once there, the creek would serve as a handrail to travel back northward to the trail and my camp. Dusk was beginning to fall upon the forest.

I veered north a little as I traveled east. My plan to travel east was sound, but I also wanted to keep to the trail if I could. I had no idea what travel conditions lay ahead if I pursued a bushwhacking course. With all of the deadfall, some of the trail markers were undoubtedly hidden. I kept looking for markers, but I didn't find one until I had nearly given up hope of seeing it. Finding that trial marker gave me feeling that I would make camp safely.

Camp, at last!

Before long, I spotted a patch of white in a grassy area ahead of me. The patch of white turned out to be a flat wooden bridge that spanned the creek. I was elated, after ten and one-half hours, I had made it. I thanked God for his guidance as I stumbled the last few hundred yards.

With darkness falling, I barely had enough time to pitch my tent and hang my food. Even though I had only eaten a little trail mix for lunch, there would be no dinner. I did not dare to risk cooking in the dark or bedding down with food smells on my body. Even what little I was able to accomplish in the way of making camp was a challenge. I had just crawled into my tent when a thunderstorm began to pour rain down upon the camp.

I slept well, except for the few times when I had to leave the relative safety of my tent. I had consumed about a quart and a half of water before going to sleep. That would help me avoid dehydration as I slept, but it also had an obvious side-effect. I was concerned about venturing out of the tent to relieve myself, so I though about it for some time before I decided to do so. My strategy for leaving the tent involved two blasts on an air horn, followed by several shouts of "Hey bear!". With my pepper spray in hand, I limped to a nearby tree to mark my territory.

As per the routine that I adopted for the trip, I awoke at 0500. I lay in my tent until daybreak, dreading the hike out. I still had time to plan my course of action, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion. I could not escape the fact that a retreat was the only logical choice.

Try as I might, I could not justify continuing with the knowlege that the 12-mile hike out from Joseph's Coat would be too much for me. I could have used a short trip that day, and the day of rest that I had planned for Thursday. Both options were attractive and risky at the same time. I didn't consider the option of staying there. Other than the matter of not having a permit to stay at Moss Creek, I suppose that I had that option available too. I could have continued to my planned destination and stayed over at this campsite on the way back. That would allow me to save face and travel within my abilities. But I've never had the luxury of worrying too much about saving face. I wanted to play by the rules, and I think it is wise to know one's limits.

I made the choice to hike back out.