August 5, 2020
Total distance walked: 4.8 miles
An unexpected benefit to Yosemite’s new lottery system is, Chris and I go to the park more often as a couple than ever before. It has been a joy biking together around the Valley, and bringing him to some of my favorite trails and lakes, such as May Lake.
On this day we drove up to the May Lake trailhead west of Tenaya Lake. It was an uneventful hike with all the familiar views.
Upon reaching the lake, we walked to its north side and sat in the sunshine enjoying the cool mountain breeze.
We gazed at the smooth waters of the lake and savored the calming atmosphere of peace. A perfect place for lunch.
On the way back, Chris led the way.
He pulled farther ahead while I stopped to photograph the wildflowers and trees and rocks.
Then I pulled off trail for a minute to see the view of Cathedral Peak.
That’s when things went awry. He was still well in front of me and I didn’t hear him say that we were off trail. Since I didn’t respond, he thought I was happy doing something adventurous and fun—forging our own path down the granite mountain.
I followed behind not really paying attention to our surroundings. The sun beat down on us and the glare from the granite made me squint.
Eventually I looked up and nothing looked familiar. What I call Eagle Rock (part of Mt. Hoffman but not its official name) had always been in view and now I couldn’t see it.
Once I realized we lost the path, I shouted, “We’re off the trail!” He knew we were. I wanted to backtrack, but was so disoriented, I had no idea where to turn back to. I panicked and all common sense left me. A hundred things raced through my mind: We have two waters. Will we be stranded on a cliff’s edge like in Death in Yosemite? How long until it gets dark? I have to go to the bathroom. Fear set in and I started to cry—yes, I’m mortified to say that I cried. I whined to go back uphill to try and find the trail. Chris thought I was being a stubborn “rules girl” just wanting to stay on trail. He didn’t realize that I was really afraid until he turned around and saw the tears.
I thought he was being stubborn too about not wanting to go back uphill. I didn’t realize that he knew generally where we were. Alas, the only thing I could do was trust that my husband—who is good with direction—knew what he was doing. I followed just a step behind, not wanting to be too far away, until we miraculously—in my mind—came to the trail. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
To this day I cannot tell you where we went wrong or why I panicked, which is the worst thing to do if you’re lost. Maybe it goes back to my four-year old self who, along with my younger sister, got lost in the woods for an hour or so. I vaguely remember the child-like fear of being eaten by a bear.
I feel safe having Chris as a hiking partner. He’s strong and able and logical and willing to go off trail for the fun of it—which I do enjoy when I know that’s what we’re doing. Who knew that the new park entry requirements would mean that I get to hike with my husband more now than ever? It’s been a good summer.