Little Boy Lost (2)

 The Emigrant Wilderness is an area bounded on the south by Yosemite National Park, roughly 25 miles northeast-southwest and 15 miles east-west dominated by volcanic ridges and peaks. Granite outcroppings are interspersed with small lakes and meadows. Much of the area varies between 7000 to 9000 feet elevation. The Miwok and Paiute peoples hunted the area during the summer and early autumns. When the Gold Rush began in 1848 large numbers of prospectors and settlers came through the High Sierra, but it was not until 1852 that a trail was blazed through this region. The Clark-Skidmore party formed from Ohio and Indiana with 75 people and 13 mule wagons. It took them 35 days to cross what is now the Emigrant Wilderness and so many gave up or deserted that only 15 people were left. After this, there were better and easier trails so that the area was seldom used.

   In 1931 the Forest Service designated this region the Emigrant Basin Primitive Area and in 1975 it was renamed the Emigrant Wilderness. In exactly 100 years after the 1852 Clark-Skidmore party, in 1952 one 12 year old Boy Scout got lost and made it through the area in 7 days. 

   In the previous chapter, one other scout and I had joined the other scouts about four days later, and the two of us had hiked about four hours around sundown to get to the camp. The next morning several of us went fishing in three or four “good fishing holes” a couple of miles away from camp. The fishing was slow and by mid-day the others all decided to go back to camp. I wanted to keep on fishing, and being all young boys none of us thought that it was important that I had just arrived and hadn’t paid any attention to which was the way to go back to camp. So I continued fishing by myself until late afternoon. I started back (I thought) on a trail which would take me back to camp. This was not a populated area but there were several trails - all of which were lightly used; some crossed each other and others just petered out. The trail I was following took me perhaps 1 or 2 miles in a rough circle which brought me back to where I had been fishing. So I took the nearest other trail which petered out after an hour, and it was beginning to get dark. It occurred to me that I was lost.

   It’s a good time to consider my “stuff”. It was 1952 and there wasn’t a lot of hiking gear available. I had a floppy brimmed hat, jeans, an old shirt, a light weight jacket, and a pair of old loafers. In my pockets I had a scout knife, a few matches and a handkerchief, and I was carrying my fishing gear: a cheap spinning rod, some leader and a few spinners. If I had been a good scout I would have carried a map and a compass, but I did not have a compass. I may have had a map but I don’t remember it and even if I had, I didn’t have a reference point on the map. And it turned out that one of my few important things was a canteen which I had left in my tent along with my sleeping bag.