We had a study plot to look at that required us to drive 20 miles or so into an area over roads that were not maintained. Scott drove in, claiming roads were too far gone to let anyone else do it, and he had been out here before. This was fine with me. Even though we had all been required to pass an off-road driving test when hired, he could do as he pleased.
Due to the time it took to reach the area, we would have to spend the night at our base camp, an old cabin long abandoned. Our plot was a few miles from the cabin. We hiked out to the plot in the morning. Getting to the plot was not a problem. We were there and finished by eleven or so. We decided to hike back to a designated spot to eat, then do another plot after lunch.
Here was the trouble. Scott wanted to hike back via the river, thinking it looked more direct to our lunch spot. The smog specialist, Michael figured it would be better to stick to the routes we knew. We had navigated to the plots using 3-D photos of the area. One thing is that in order to see in 3-D, you had to use both photos in a 3-D viewer. Scott had a quick look at only one photo and decided he wanted to go via the river. The entomologist wanted to go with him. I stuck with the smog guy. We split the photos. Scott had not looked at his proposed route in 3-D. If they came upon anything they could not get through, they would be out of luck choosing a new route.
Our route was just fine, except for one spot where there was no trail across a 15-foot expanse of bare cliff. Of course, falling down this slope would put us at the river, if we were lucky enough to survive the fall. There had been a trial last time they had come this way, but it must have fallen away into the river since then.
Michael asked how much experience I had had in a situation like this. I knew the basic theory of navigating this sort of hazard, but this was a first for that distance and for that kind of hazard waiting below. He reminded me to keep my polaski on the uphill side and, if I fell, to try to use it to snag something to at least slow my slide. Also, to keep the edges of the soles of my boots on the side of the cliff, and to take each alternate footfall as if the ground were level at that place, right foot to the outside of the boot, and then left foot to the inside.
Easy. I followed, and I would not have even thought anything about it if I could have done it, not knowing the river was down a couple of hundred feet, and using the polaski may not have stopped me if I had slipped. But I made it just fine. We sped up after that, thinking that if the shortcut had worked for Scott, they might already be waiting for us.
But we were the first to arrive. We waited. We eventually ate. We waited a bit more and then figured it would be too late to do the next plot, even if they did show up. Then we decided something must have happened to them. We left a note in a tree, hoping they would see it if they came by, and we hiked back to camp. They were not at camp either. Of course, when things go wrong, they go wrong in a big way. Scott still had the Jeep Wagoneer’s keys. Not only were we unable to drive for help, but all of our supplies were also locked in the Wagoneer. Michael decided he had better start hiking out for help. Around ten miles out and back up a dirt road, there had been a road up to some sort of military radar site. That was his destination. I stayed to wait and to try to break into our vehicle.
Getting into the Wagoneer was not a real problem. I had a Buck knife that my wife’s parents had given me. I finally was able to slip it into the vent window, flip the latch up, and somehow snake my arm in to release the lock. At least I had access to supplies and food. Hey, I had the easy job. One crew member was hiking out ten miles for help. Part of my crew had already been missing for four hours. All I had to do was wait for them to show up. After six hours, I did not figure they would show up. After eight hours, I assumed they were both dead. This was turning into a very unpleasant summer.
Then, somewhere around 10 pm, I heard them. They stumbled into camp. It reminded me of how I must have looked that afternoon they brought me to the hospital. They both appeared to be OK. No broken bones or major cuts. I could tell they were sunburned, and they were a bit loopy-sounding since they had been out in the elements most of the day with only a little food. I got them food and water- if they wanted. They seemed to know to take it easy at first on both. After a very brief rest and explanation of what had gone wrong, we decided we should drive out right then, to try to catch up with and cancel the search that would no doubt be starting at sunrise. You guessed it. I was the only one in condition to drive. At least Scott had managed to keep hold of the keys in their adventures.
As I tried to maneuver on roads that were barely there, and if there, I could barely see, they told me their adventure. They had gotten into trouble pretty quickly. They reached a waterfall they had not seen in the photo because they had not looked at their path in 3-D. The problem was that, even though they got past the first one, there were many more to come. In their attempts to get up the falls, they would have to backtrack up the hillsides. Eventually, they realized they had walked into an area that was not covered by the photo they had with them. It just became a series of two steps forward, three steps back, with no idea of where they were or where they had to get to. Not that I was happy it had happened to them, because I was relieved that they had made it back to camp- But, I thought they deserved what had happened to them. Scott was so egotistical that he could do no wrong. Why bother to look at his route in 3-D? He knew his way out would work without his having to check.
So, there I was driving them out in the dark, barely able to see where the road was supposed to be. We got to the fork in the road leading up to the radar site, and there was a pile of rocks in the road showing that our Michael had gone up that way. All we had to do was get to him, call off the search, and drive out the rest of the way- and home. I am not sure how much trouble he had to go to to get the messages sent to whoever would be searching, but it took a bit of convincing for them to believe the missing persons had appeared and that all was well. After what seemed to be hours of slow twisting, turning, and almost off-road travel in places, we finally got out to a paved road. I could finally start to breathe again. The rest of the trip, I just listened to the stories of everyone’s day as I drove. My day had been routine compared to others. But, without me, they would not have gotten home that night. I guess I was the designated driver.
Memory is the Key 