Well, if you've been following along (and I'm referring to the 3 or 4 of you who might actually be reading these entries), then you read about how Diane was found and rescued from her very traumatic experience in the forest, and how my own adventure was just beginning.  I think it was key to my own sanity that I was able to reach the others on the radio and learn that they had found Di. How could I have handled being lost myself with no idea where she was or if she was safe yet?  So once I heard this, I set about the business of getting myself "unlost" and back to camp so we could all go to the lake.  It was after 11:30 by now, and I felt badly that the other families had spent so much of their last day waiting for us.  When you're out in the wilderness alone, there's really no one to talk to but yourself and your maker, and a lot goes on inside your head.  This was the case for me, but to fully understand these "conversations" it might be helpful for you to get a glimpse into how I went from rescuer to needing rescue.

The trail to Muir Grove winds back into a ravine where two hillsides meet and then out the other side, so you feel like you're actually moving away from your destination for a while.  My memory told me that once the trail emerged on the other side, it passed below the grove for a stretch and then switched back up into it; clearly wasted yardage, and nothing that I had time for with my wife in such need.  So once I reached the other side of the ravine, I cut off trail up the steep slope to reach the top.  My belief was that I had to cut all the way across the grove to the other side, where I expected to find the cliff that Diane was lost and waiting.  In reality this path took me up above the grove to a higher plateau, and I never actually reached the sequoia trees.  I was breathing hard from the climb but I pressed on through the trees at the top and across to another small hill.  I glanced around me as I jogged/hiked further, making mental notes of the terrain so I could retrace my steps, and thinking that I must have just missed the grove, but that I could adjust by following the cliff once I got there, and reasoning that since Diane was clearly lost in a different part of the forest that I might actually end up closer to her this way.  After a bit I reached the top of this area and the ground began to slope down the other side.  This was very encouraging, except it was a more gradual, thickly wooded slope, and there was neither the sound of water (which Diane said she moved towards), or any sign of a cliff.  After several minutes of bushwhacking down this slope I decided that I had missed the cliff, and that I should probably get radio contact with Di and see how she was doing.  I had to move back to higher ground before I reached anyone, and I think I followed the easiest path back up the hill, with my focus on hearing my wife's voice and assuring her that I was "on the way".  It was back near the top of this hill that I reached Ryan and Dave on the radio and found out that Di had just climbed down into the canyon bottom and was safe.

I had previously hiked the trail into Muir Grove probably only four or five times over the years of camping at Dorst, and I had never explored the terrain around it.  Still I felt confident that I knew the lay of the land and about where I was at in relation to the big trees.  My confidence lay in the belief that my logical reasoning, calm disposition, and experience would make it easy to get back to the trail and on home to our camp.  In fact, I found myself thinking that if Di had been as logical and calm, she too would have been able to find her way back safely instead of sliding down a hillside in near-panic.  I even thanked God for these "gifts" and asked Him to help me use them swiftly before people started worrying.  My plan was to hike "back" to the side of the hill that I first ascended, and then make a left turn and drop down into the grove, where I would find the trail waiting for me.  Indeed before long I reached the "other side" of the hilltop and started along its edge, looking for the big trees.  When I reached what I thought would be a downward slope into familiar territory, instead I found a shallow valley and another hill climbing back up on the other side.  Still, I was confident in my plan, and I reasoned that this was just a terrain feature in this upper ridge, and that I was that much closer to getting back out.  The little valley was densely overgrown and tough to cross, and the trees on the opposite hill seemed thicker and harder to travel through.  I forced my way along for a while until I started to lose some of my confidence.  It was here that I first tried to gauge my direction by the shadow that the sun cast, sundial-style.  I compared the time to the shadow and tried to take into account the position of the sun that time of year, as well as the bend in the stick I was holding to cast the shadow.  Of course, since I didn't actually know what direction the grove should be in, all I could hope for was to keep checking my position against the sun, and hopefully keep on "course"  that way, as the dense trees made it pretty tough to keep my bearings, and impossible to move ahead in a straight line.

After a good 1-2 hours of hiking I was totally unsure of my location, and had yet to see any sign of the giant sequoia trees that would lead me into the Muir Grove and back to the trail.  I was getting desperate for clues, and had drunk much of the water that was originally borrowed for Diane.  I feared I was walking in circles along the top of a hillside and decided to venture down the next slope I reached in hopes of finding clues to my location.  As you can imagine, my prayers were coming more quickly and with greater urgency now, and I started to see the foolishness of my earlier confidence.  "I am in your hands Lord, please show me the way out so that I may give you the credit for it."  After reaching and descending a short slope, I was now in easier terrain among tall pine and fir trees, but they were still dense enough to hide the sun and prevent me from getting my bearings.  Up along my left a high rocky ridge emerged above the trees.  This was a very prominent feature that I had never seen before either in person or on a map of the grove, and it told me that I was potentially far from camp and in an unknown direction.  I couldn't hear anything on my small 2-way radio, and I knew that higher ground was my only hope of communicating, so I decided to climb to the top.  This path took me up towards the base of the rocks, and I imagined small caves among the many shadows I could see. 

Now as I mentioned earlier, Diane had told me she saw at least 2 bears in the woods as she ran, but this wasn't really a concern to me because they were always after unguarded food, and didn't like being close to people.  However, I wondered how they would act if I showed up at their den, maybe even when momma and her cubs were home taking a nap before raiding the camp sites that evening?  This could be dangerous, and my fear produced a fervent prayer that God might keep me from encountering any large animals.  God indeed honored this prayer impressively, as I never saw anything larger than a squirrel during my 3 days in the backwoods, even though I followed many game paths and came across fresh bear poop and tracks more than once, (I'm still very thankful for this even as I write in the safety of my home!).  Music was also a great comfort to me throughout my journey beginning here, and I reasoned that any animals would hear me coming more easily if I was singing.  Prayer, song, and the last of my water was enough to urge me on to the top of the ridge, although I had to hike along the base a ways before finding a place I could climb up.  The view was impressive, and it brought hope as I was able to pick out a few landmarks that I thought I recognized.  Now if I could just reach my family or our group on the radio, maybe I could finally get out of here.  My time on this ridge will be the subject of my next entry, "An Important Choice, and a Message Left Behind".