May 25, 2015
Savage-Lundy Trail, Mariposa County
Total distance walked: 4 miles

Each week, the Sierra Hiking Seniors, a group of over one hundred hikers, send out an email announcing two hikes for the following week. Although I rarely join them, when I saw that one of the hike trailheads was nearby, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to explore the area. The group convened at a meeting spot just down the road from my home—about ten people and seven dogs showed up.

The long trailhead access road wasn’t suitable for cars with low clearance, so I brought the truck. Leslie, a woman I met for the first time, rode with me over the rugged terrain. There were moments when it felt like we might tip over and tumble into the canyon. By the time we reached the trailhead, I was pretty stressed out, so Leslie kindly offered to drive back after our hike. We were hiking a historic path that gold miners walked in the mid-1800s: the Savage-Lundy trail in the Sierra National Forest down to Devil’s Gulch on the South Fork of the Merced River.

The trail is named after Major James Savage, renowned as the “discoverer” of Yosemite Valley, and Otto Lundy, a miner who owned the May Lundy Mine.

We descended as a group, but Leslie swiftly moved ahead of everyone else. The trail, nestled in the chaparral forest, narrowed, and each hiker found their own pace. Rita, another hiker with a similar rhythm to mine, stayed with me. I’d met her twice through mutual friends and was glad to have the chance to get to know her a bit better as we walked.

We scrambled along the mountain’s edge, climbing over and under downed trees that obstructed our path. We wove through the brush and navigated switchbacks, taking care to avoid the poison oak that crept onto the trail. Wildflowers, mainly Clarkia—also known as farewell to spring—decorated the trail’s edge. Oaks and cedars were abundant, and tall pines swayed in the wind, even though we couldn’t feel a breeze. Despite the beauty of the scenery and the vast views, my mind was preoccupied with the return drive on the rutted and rocky road. That morning’s drive was my first experience with that type of terrain.

Boy Scouts carrying full packs squeezed by, heading home after a three-night backpacking trip. They were taking the uphill stretch slowly, traversing a 2,500-foot elevation gain—a climb that awaited us in the heat of the afternoon on our return.

Rita started talking about how hot it would be on the return trip, voicing my own thoughts. It was supposed to reach the 80s that afternoon, but the canyon was already warm, and we were both damp with perspiration. She also worried that she might not have brought enough water for herself and her dog.

The deeper we descended into the canyon, the more frequently Rita suggested turning back. As I swabbed beads of sweat from my brow, she asked, “Do you want to do it, Janet?” Although giving up on the hike felt wrong, the daunting thought of that jeep road haunted me. Traversing it again seemed more challenging than hiking uphill in the heat. Wanting to get the drive over with, I finally said, “Yes, let’s go.” It was my first time quitting a hike without reaching the planned destination.

Rita had ridden to the trailhead with another couple. We sent word to Leslie, who was much farther ahead, that she could ride back with them. Everyone agreed, so Rita and I turned back and headed up the hill. We caught up to two Scout Masters and paused to chat with them, taking a moment to catch our breath. The sky was becoming overcast, and we finally felt a cooling breeze.

After two miles of uphill hiking, we finally reached the truck. Rita helped guide me as I turned it around on the narrow road—a three-point turn, or maybe four or five points—and then we slowly made our way back to civilization. Despite all the fretting in my mind about the return drive, it wasn’t as bad as I had built it up to be.

This outing was filled with firsts, but it will be the last time I quit a hike for the first time. Even though I didn’t make it to Devil’s Gulch, the steep, narrow canyon and the foothill woodland area were sights to behold, and spending the morning with a new friend brought me joy.