Yahoo Lifestyle They planned a simple day hike in Yosemite. Then they got lost in the snow
On May 20, 2016, my wife and I visited Yosemite National Park. Before we set out on a trail, I talked to a park ranger. I told her that I was looking for a picture of water reflecting the trees.
The ranger, a third-generation Yosemite employee, stated that Lukens Lake was one of the most beautiful places in the park.
"I think you get the best views in the park," she said.
Highway 120 had opened the day before, and it was only a one-mile hike from the highway-adjacent trailhead to the lake.
We'd been to Yosemite before. At that time, I was living in Long Beach in a high-rise on Ocean Boulevard. I had an airplane and I flew us into Mariposa-Yosemite Airport. We rented a four-wheel drive van and stayed in Mariposa. The next day, we drove over and hiked to the lake.
We probably got there around 9 a.m. It just seemed like a simple little walk. We had proper attire and day packs. I checked the weather. There was nothing in the forecast that day. It was nice. It was cool. In Yosemite Valley, it was probably in the upper 40s.
As the morning wore on, the clouds covered the sky. It got gray and dark. The light was perfect for photographs. And it started to snow. It was one of those storms the mountains generate. The snow was coming down thick and in big flakes. We got five inches in about 40 minutes. I spent about two hours taking photos around the lake.
I got lost in the photography. It was just so beautiful, you didn't want to leave. But, we got hungry. We only had a snack bar with us, and we had left a couple days' worth of food in the car.
But our trail had disappeared. About noon was our first attempt to hike out. The hike in was about 10 minutes. We hiked for an hour and found no outlet.
When we headed out from the lake, we kept going straight. We took three different paths, but we were still probably half a mile from the road. We didn't remember dog legging coming out. You're headed down the trail one place, and all of a sudden, it makes a 30-degree turn to your left. We didn't remember the big turn.
I knew there was going to be snow on the ground, and I thought if people go there, there'd be a trail on the ground, but I didn't think through that next day. We knew the road was due south of where we were, but there was no sun. You couldn't tell where south was.
The last time we tried, I was exhausted coming back and was falling down. We decided it wasn't safe to keep trying. It was getting dark.
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We cleared out an area under a tree where there was not as much snow and rested.
It was somewhere in the low 20s. We had a couple of the Mylar sheets, which I now know how to use. We wrapped them around ourselves, but they didn't work because we were covered in snow. We were wet. Instead of reflecting warmth, they were just reflecting the cold. To use them correctly, you need to take your clothes off and put them against your body. We would shiver until our bodies got a little warm and then fall asleep, and then wake up because we were cold, and then shiver again and fall back to sleep.
I carry several fire starting tools, but I thought we were over 10,000 feet, where no fires are allowed. I have read about people in survival situations being prosecuted for making a fire.
I thought somebody would see our car at the trailhead, but we hadn't gotten a permit for the hike because it was just a day hike. To stay there overnight, you need a permit.
What had happened in that storm, unbeknownst to us, is that Highway 120 had been closed again because of ice — nobody was going to see our car. I've since realized no one would care anyway unless you told somebody outside the park, and they start calling and said, "Hey, they haven't checked back in," or got a permit.
The next morning was sunny and we hiked out. Once we saw the road, we knew we were safe. The car was full of food, and we sat inside and ate for an hour. I don't remember what we ate, but it was delicious.
On the road 50 yards away was a car upside down on its hood. The roads were all completely iced over, snowed over and closed. The first person we saw was the snow plow driver, and he told us there were a couple wrecks coming up. People were flying up there, thinking "Whoo, the 120 is open! I can get to the coast!" There was obviously no warning to them that there was ice on the road.
The rental van was four-wheel drive, but I creeped. I was going 5 mph down that road, hoping I didn't slide off of it. Further on, I ran into a park ranger, and then he realized he was the only one who had a key to unlock the gates. He said, "I'm glad you guys made it out. It'd be a while before someone found you."
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I had made a lot of safety assumptions that weren't valid. It made me realize that, if I'm going to hike in the backcountry, I have to do it in a safer manner.
I knew we had parked north of the lake. I had looked at the trail map, but I didn't have a compass on me. I didn't have any of the things I carry today. I now use an app to track my location that works offline using satellites, and I own a Garmin GPS emergency device.
I had to change my approach to being outdoors. I started reading a lot more, I started carrying a lot more. There's nobody coming to save you. Maybe they'll look for a corpse in a week.
When it comes down to it, you are going to have to walk out.
Tom Setterlund is a retired safety engineer who spends his time backcountry motorcycling, mostly on fire roads in the San Bernardino National Forest. He also enjoys traveling with his pop-up camper wherever the road leads. His retelling is edited for length and clarity.
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This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
