The Story Of How I Broke My Bracelet

3/3/24

(The following is my attempt at a descriptive account of a solo adventure I experienced, written out largely for my memory's sake, in the absence of photos)

I’d been thinking lately about how I wanted more adventure in my life, and I found one today, or it found me, when a somewhat casual hike turned into what I would conservatively consider class 3 mountaineering.

Some people are motivated by taking photos, or impressive climbs, or summits, or whatever. I am motivated by finding fun places to practice making campfires.

In the early afternoon, I stood next to a steam, cutting through the wildfire-damaged foothills of Mt. San Gregorio. Across the stream, I saw a snow covered hill, and on top of the hill were three or four healthy looking ponderosa pines. Ponderosa pines are, usually, great for making fires, because they drop their branches and their dead needles make for excellent kindling.

So I set out, across the stream and up the steady slope of patches of deep snow and charred stumps and fallen trees, with nothing but a sweater, gloves, and a notebook and pen. I left my phone behind, dead, which is why I have no pictures to share with you. Immediately after crossing the stream, I found a healthy stick, which I intended to use as some sort of walking aid.

Additionally, I was curious to put my newly acquired waterproof boots through their paces.

The first quarter mile or so was very unpleasant. About a foot of semi-frozen snow covered a bed of bushes and fallen logs, meaning that each step sunk to an unpredictable depth. I continued on, out of breath, and took a break on some rocks. The snow had begun to harden with the higher elevation and shadow of the mountain, giving me more confidence in the climbing conditions. I also started to notice how steep this route was beginning to appear.

My stick quickly turned into a makeshift ice axe as the slope reached 45 degrees, and the snow became harder and harder to kick into.

Throughout the day, sheets of fog and light snow swept in and out of this small valley, concealing and then revealing the various hills and peaks. I figured I might find my desired trees in the middle of a cloud, and wait to watch it blow away, opening to reveal a beautiful view of the valley.

When I started out, the sky was blue, and the trees were in clear view, but as I climbed hand over hand up a ladder of frozen snow, a wall of dense fog was crawling up the valley to my left. I started to wonder if this fire of mine would prove to be more essential than I thought.

I rushed to the top of the hills, and collapsed under one of those magnificent trees, now very far from my mind, and took several moments to catch my breath. To the northeast, a wall of fog, but to the west, patches of sunlight broke through low hanging clouds, accenting white hills covered in the bare black trunks of burnt trees. I did my best to sketch an image.

(Sky breaking through the clouds, in pencil)

Then the wind picked up. I scrambled desperately to build a fire to wait out the cold, and what I assumed would be light snow along with it. I dug a hole in the snow with a stick, used bark as a barrier for the wind, and grabbed anything dry I could find. With the help of some scraps of pocket paper and more matches than I’m comfortable with, I got some needles to burn. But between the damp wood and the wind, nothing else caught.

I looked up and saw nothing but white after about 50 feet in any direction. The time was 3:40pm. I had no interest in going down the way I’d come, given the steepness, and knowing most hills usually have a less steep side somewhere, I figured I’d have to wait until the fog passed to find it.

But the fog wasn’t going anywhere. If anything it was getting thicker. Knowing I wouldn’t have much daylight left, I decided to try my luck with the steep hillside.

The next 400 feet or so consisted of me, facing the hill, kicking my toes into the hard ice, one hand on my trusty stick, the other hand on the snow, slowly making my way down what felt like an icy ladder. Looking down I saw the world upside down. The hill below me curved up to the sides, and beyond that was the occasional tree poking out of the fog, and a wall of white beyond that. Like being on the bottom of a frozen planet. The fingers on my left hand went numb. I switched my stick to the other hand.

Eventually, I got to the base of the hill. Another hundred feet or so and I was on solid ground, and out of the snow for the most part, but I still had a long way to go. I had no idea where I was, and if the landscape had been flat, I might have easily been lost. Any sense of direction I had was gone. No sun, no shadows, no compass, and every direction looked exactly the same. Twisted, lifeless trees reached through the fog, like lost souls in a cursed forest. I pulled my knife out of its sheath, warning off any would-be attackers hiding in the fog.

I sat on a log to catch my breath, taking in the hauntingly beautiful landscape. Away from any evidence of human presence, I felt completely immersed. Luckily, I was now the most dangerous thing in that part of the forest, and my only concern was accidentally startling a large buck, and facing its charge. Especially since the tracks I found looked as fresh as any. So I called out occasionally, letting them know I meant no harm. Getting up from the log, I spotted a single antler on the ground, and took it with me.

(Picture taken back at my cabin)

I followed a well-trafficked deer trail over the cold damp ground, making my way downhill where I knew I’d find a stream that would lead me to the river and eventually the trail. The fog was so thick you could grab onto it.

Exhausted, and with soaked feet, I finally made it to the river, where I crossed on floating logs, and quickly made it back to the rest of my gear.

I placed the antler in the side pocket of my backpack, and when I lifted my arm away, one end of it slipped underneath the “Besties” beaded bracelet that my friend Liv got for me about a year ago, ripping the string, and spilling the beads onto the dirt trail. It was the first time it had been removed from my arm since it was given to me.

(I tied it back together and saved the beads to restring it)