In the Emigrant Wilderness there are several creeks which begin in the high country and generally flow to the southwest. As I began my trek downstream to “civilization” I followed a stream which was no more than a foot or two deep and was running fast over rocks of every shape and size. The stream was cold and clear, and since I had no canteen I tried to stay close to my source of water. The terrain at first was open since it was above timberline, but as the elevation became lower it became harder to stay close to the stream. First, the stream occasionally merged with another stream and obviously grew in size. Second, trees and brush became thicker and made it difficult to walk and third the banks varied from flat to nearly vertical. There were times that the stream ran through steep canyons which allowed only two options: climb to the top of the bank, or wade in the water. There were times when neither option was appealing.
Yesterday, on Saturday 9 August, I had realized I was lost and I had decided to head downstream. I had not gone far since I had not started until afternoon, but I recall the hiking was in open country and not difficult. On Sunday I had all day to hike and again I don’t recall any big problems. There was a faint trail along the creek which was apparently seldom used but it had been used by people, so I felt that I would eventually find civilization wherever and whatever it may be. The nights had been cold but above freezing, and now the morning sun was warm. I came to an old campsite which consisted of a campfire circle and a makeshift shelf on a tree, where there were a few very dried prunes or apricots. I ate them, although there was hardly any taste and it took a long time sucking them before they were chewable. A pleasant memory is of a large flat granite rock which was warmed by the sun and I remember basking in the sun for an hour or more.
I continued hiking on Sunday until late afternoon. The creek was beginning to grow as small feeder creeks merged, and the banks were becoming steeper and were littered with scree - rocks from higher on the canyon walls. Walking was becoming harder and I had literally worn holes in the soles of my shoes, so I searched before dark for a place to sleep for the night. Each night I slept in spurts which probably added up to a few hours, and during the day I often dozed for an hour or so, which kept me going.
At sunup on Monday I woke, drank water, and continued hiking downstream. The canyon walls became steeper and walking became more difficult. For the next several days my progress became slower and monotonous except for a few memorable events; and while I can remember the events I can’t remember the order in which they all occurred.
More than once I climbed a canyon wall to get close enough to the ridgeline to hike downstream at a good pace. However I could not stay away from my water source for more than a few hours at most. One afternoon when I had been hiking along the ridgeline the canyon wall below had been getting steeper and hazardous, and as the sun was getting low, I had to decide whether to backtrack to get down to the creek or to go without water that night. I went without water that night and slept on a very narrow ledge not far above the canyon wall.
The next morning I don’t remember whether I climbed down the canyon wall or whether I hiked along the ridgeline until I came to a gentler slope, but I got to the creek as fast as I could. I drank my fill and I don’t remember whether I climbed back up to the high ground or whether I decided to wade downstream. In any case I certainly remember my adventure in the water.
Probably after a couple of days of hiking back and forth from the creek to the top of the canyon wall, I decided to wade downstream in the creek. The water was cold and running fast and in most parts it seemed to be about waist deep. I started wading and within a few minutes I was swept off my feet. There was no way to swim even though occasionally there would be a deeper and calmer stretch, but then my feet would be bouncing off rocks again. I don’t know how long I was in the water but it’s likely that I travelled at least a mile through a steep ravine, and my ride stopped as I went over a small waterfall and landed on a flat rock. I climbed out of the creek and I was so sore that I thought I had broken some ribs. Later, when I had reached civilization and I claimed I had gone over a 20 foot waterfall, a doctor determined I had bruised ribs - later I thought a bit more clearly and I reduced the height of the waterfall to 10 feet.
Toward the end of the week the canyon walls were becoming lower and the country was more open. I came to another campsite which likely had been used earlier in the summer. Left behind were a pair of trousers and a small steel mirror, which had been forgotten or perhaps left for the next trip. In any case both items were ideal - my own trousers were entirely torn and worn out and while the others had been well worn they were my size! And an occasional airplane flew overhead, so I could try to signal a plane with a mirror. While I didn’t get the mirror flashed to a plane at least I had a pair of decent trousers.
By about Friday 15 August I was beginning to be a little goofy. I remember some odd feelings or perhaps unnatural sounds, and in one case I recall that I felt fear out of the blue, apparently for no reason. But these all disappeared when I stumbled back into civilization - when this story is completed.
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