Evolution Range: The Kindness of Strangers

The kindness of strangers

In the voyage of this experience came the realization that sometimes self-reliance is not enough. Sometimes you need to ask for help. I was repeatedly touched by the willingness of strangers to lend a hand, to go above and beyond what was asked for. Often, a small gesture made all the difference. On the JMT, hikers offered water when I’d left the filter with Alistair, food when evacuation was uncertain, and reassurance that news of our predicament would be passed on. They offered dark expresso, sweet milky tea and words of concern.

Some of the food offered by strangers on the JMT. Even though it ended up being a substantial weight to haul out, I was extremely grateful.

After finding Al’s note, I packed up and slowly headed east, a mess of emotions. Tears sprung up, catching me by surprise, the release of tension, perhaps. I was swept by a wave of loneliness not usually suffered on my solo forays. Darwin Canyon was deserted, but its emptiness now seemed oppressive rather than liberating. Lamarck Col loomed insurmountable on that afternoon. I stopped and set up camp, rested and ate, tried to make lemonade out of lemons by enjoying the play of light on the peaks above and the opportunity to read a good novel.  But it was a farce. I felt as brittle as the ice on the lake the morning before. What had happened to Al? Where would he spend the night with no money or identification? Would he be hobbling around Bishop, seeking out a park bench and stale leftovers from Schat’s bakery? My husband, the cripple indigent?

Darwin Canyon reflections: Mt Mendel and Mt Gould.

Suddenly, a voice called ‘hello’, and two backpackers appeared along the side of the lake looking for a campsite. We talked, they asked if I’d like to cook dinner with them: “Your place or ours?” They returned a couple of hours later, Lisa and Kevin from San Diego. Kevin was a gourmet backcountry chef, cooking and dehydrating his own culinary creations. He carefully removed a bay leaf from his shrimp chowder. Lisa was on her first backcountry trip. We watched smoke drift up the canyon from the fires to the west and the setting sun blaze a crimson path across the lake. How did they know that their company was exactly what I needed at that moment? Such kindness, what a blessing.

Smoky sunset in Darwin Canyon.

I was able to repay a little of this kindness as I climbed back over Lamarck Col the next morning. A backpacker was camped in a tiny meadow halfway up, a curious, even desperate spot. It turned out that he had lost his partner the day before when they had become separated coming over the Col. He too had spent a lonely night of uncertainty. As we stood there together, two halves without a partner, there was a distant shout. A tiny figure waved from high above. I continued my ascent and crossed paths with the hiker who turned out to be the lost Chas. He was relieved to hear all was well with Dave below, despite cursing the apparent idiocy of his companion. Mutual insults. They must be good friends, I thought, smiling.

The climb to Lamarck Col from Darwin Canyon

By noon, I was back at the trailhead. Now to locate Al. There was no cell reception in this high, hidden valley, so I started to drive down the one lane gravel road towards Bishop. A mile or so down the hill, after rounding a curve, a Sheriff’s car approached and signaled me to stop. I wound down the window and looked with trepidation into the other vehicle expecting official reproach. Instead, I found my husband. The country Sheriff had driven him all that way out of town to come and find me. The kindness of strangers.

Reunited!

Note:

After we got out, I actually read the small print on our wilderness permit. There was a section on Search and Rescue policy in King's Canyon National Park. It states that "search and rescue actions are conducted on a discretionary basis....[the park] expects visitors to exhibit a high degree of self-reliance and responsibility for their own safety commensurate with the difficulty of their chosen activities". Furthermore "If you chose to carry a hand-held electronic signalling device, be familiar with...its frequency of failure to transmit and do not rely on it to summon emergency personnel." The October issue of 'Backpacker' magazine discussed the issue of these personal locator beacons. The head search and rescue ranger in Grand Canyon National Park, Bill Vandergraff, estimates that only 1 in 25 activations of the distress buttons are legitimate emergencies: "Some people pushed [their emergency beacon's distress] button because the water tasted bad....There was one lady concerned for someone in an adjacent tent who was snoring. She pushed the button at night because she thought he was having breathing difficulties". 'Nuff said.