Keep a Journal!
When asked by others for my advice when heading out on an adventure there is one practice I encourage that applies to every conceivable trip out there: “Keep a journal!”
I know what you’re thinking; bore off Charlie. And yes, years ago I would have been the first to scoff at the idea of keeping a ‘diary’. After all, I was a young, athletic dreamer ready to take on the world and diaries were for schoolgirls to write about playground crushes… Right?
Wrong.
You would be astounded at the amount of detail that fades from even the most incredible, life changing memories. The simple act of keeping a journal will turn these memories from a slightly dodgy pirate copy of your experiences to a 4K cinematic blockbuster. You will have learned lessons from your adventures and being able to find a quiet half hour to kick back and reminisce will mean that these lessons are never forgotten.
One such lesson I learned was from a close call in Yosemite National Park, California, where I found myself split from my friends and momentarily navigationally challenged (completely bloody lost) on the way down from a 4 day climb of the highest mountain in the Park, Mt Lyell. Every inch of me wanted to panic but by some miracle I managed to keep it together. A life lesson I call upon frequently in the business world... If you’re in a sticky situation, panicking will achieve nothing, remain objective, and knuckle down. Also don’t be afraid to talk to nudists, they might just save the day...
Slept like a log last night, sleeping pad was fully deflated but didn't notice it. I can feel it this morning though! First on the agenda was to get some water down me, then force down some oatmeal. It gets cold almost instantly up here, turning it into a dense paste. Weird. We're hiking out of the park today, a solid 14 miles. I've been hobbling around camp this morning, and that's without my boots on. It's going to be a big test, time to knuckle down!
We’re back to base camp now and I have NEVER been more thankful to be lying on my leaky sleeping pad listening to Pete snore his face off. The exit day proved to be eventful...
The first 8 miles were pretty testing. All the uphill was burning our already burned out thighs, yet the downhill was almost unbearable on my blisters. There was really no let up. There was no daydreaming this time, my feet made sure of that. As did the bear scat we kept seeing. We were all on pretty high alert. By mile 9, every other step was accompanied by some kind of profanity. I had to stop and do something about my feet. The others offered to wait, but I know how much easier it is to just keep going when you're on the move - stopping always makes it harder to start again. I told them the push on, I roughly knew the way, how hard could it be? I taped my feet, took some codeine and pushed on. The miles slowly passed, I was passing signs to Tuolomne meadows, 4 miles, 2 miles, 1.4 miles, 0.6 miles, I was speeding up as I was getting closer. My water ran out about 3 miles earlier, but I didn't care, I was nearly home. Soon I was passing people again, the first we’d seen in 4 days, one of them even stopped to tell me that the others were just ahead, and pointed toward a trail - I wasn't planning on going this way, this guy may have just saved the day! I headed the way he pointed and slowly the trail I was following got dimmer and dimmer, and seemed to go on for a long time, much longer than 0.6 miles. I could see footprints, so I followed it. There were times where it disappeared completely, I couldn't help but think the others would have stopped if the trail was this unclear. I ended up following paths which were more likely animal routes than established trails, trying to persuade myself it would come good, I would hit a big trail soon.
After a good hour it was time to admit it, this wasn't the right way, I turned back, to follow the "trail" I came on, back to the established trail. There was absolutely no sign of the way I had just came, if I set off I would be wandering aimlessly in dense forest, not a good idea. There was no two ways about it, I was lost, with no water, in one of the biggest and most notorious natural parks in the world. Bummer. I remember thinking "This never happens to me, I don't get lost, I'm the one that finds people when they get lost". I had no watch, but judging by the sun I had about 4 hours of daylight left - time to get unlost, and fast. I remembered crossing a bridge a while back on the main trail - where there's a bridge, there's water. I had to find the river, it was my best way out of here. Quick scan of the area, decided which direction the vegetation looked more lush, and headed that way, quickly. The pain of the blisters had all but gone now, adrenaline is good like that. The thirst didn't leave though, I needed some water big time. Soon I could hear the river, before long I was at the bank - so much water, but no good for drinking, the elevation was too low, and our water filter was with JB. I filled a ziplock bag and lashed it to the top of my pack - the UV from the sun would filter it... In 6 hours. It was the best I had.
I followed the river for a long time, the whole way a battle of will power not to drink the water. I wasn't sure this would lead me out, but by a stroke of fortune I saw some people in the river up ahead - nudist people... Normally I would have avoided them, because you know, I wasn't naked - but I figured this couple must be fairly familiar with the area. I approached them and asked how to get out of this place... They were French, very French. It turns out they didn't speak a word of English. Dammit, why didn't I choose French for my gcse's! I couldn't get any kind of directions out of them, but I did manage to ask for some water and got half a litre out of them - life saver. Moral boosted I pushed on down the river and sure enough I reached the bridge - this must be where I went wrong. Sure enough, I followed my gut to another trail headed the opposite direction – no more than an hour later I was sitting with the boys, chocolate milk in hand, life was good.