The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2003

Desolation

by Gail Barchfeld

“You will love the Sierra Nevada Mountains,” Scott said.

He leaned over from the driver’s side to plant a kiss on Marla’s smooth cheek.

“If you say so, Scott.”

Marla stared out the window as they drove east, leaving behind the crush of San Francisco traffic. She snorted. She agreed to try backpacking because it was important to Scott, but she’d make sure their next trip was to Hawaii.

“I already feel cut off from civilization,” Marla said.

“That’s the point, Baby. You’ll see for yourself soon,” Scott said.

He hummed along with the radio and swerved past a big rig loaded with huge logs. The mountains drew nearer.

Scott set up camp. He looked towards the parking lot. Marla was not in sight. He walked over to the only other tent on the lakeshore.

“How’s the fishing?” Scott said.

A middle-aged angler seated on a faded canvas chair shifted attention from his line to the trim young man.

“Seen better. It’s pretty fished out this late in the season.”

“Yeah, but so peaceful without the summer crowds,” Scott said. He gazed at Wright’s Lake sparkling in the sunny September afternoon.

“Staying long?” Scott asked.

“Through Monday. The wife and I are retired. No need to rush back. Yourself? Here alone, are you?”

“Oh, no. My girlfriend is talking to her mother,” Scott said. He paused and then clarified. “On the pay phone in the parking lot. Beats me what they find to yak about every day. We’re heading upcountry in the morning. Four whole days with no phones.”

William chuckled.

Marla panted as she slogged behind Scott up the so-called trail, sweaty, dirty and bored on their second day in the Desolation Wilderness Area. She smelled dirt in her nose.

Scott looked back at Marla. She edged her way across a tilted mass of polished granite, its glacial striations glinting in the sun.

“Baby, watch the trail ducks on these rock slabs,” Scott said. “It’s easy to get off trail if you don’t watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, Bwana.”

Marla shifted in the general direction of three stacked stones that marked the invisible trail on the rocky expanse.

The trail became a series of short switchbacks with high stone steps. Marla’s muscles, tight from yesterday’s climb, were loosening up. She heaved herself and her pack up each step, some higher than her knees.

“Stop and look behind us,” Scott called back. “You can see where we camped last night.”

Marla inhaled as she looked back and down, not quite gasping for breath. Backed by green forest, Maud Lake was shining in the middle distance below a wide dome of blue sky. She saw dots of two blue tents on the lakeshore, but no people.

“Oh! We’re really climbing,” Marla said.

“Wright’s Lake is a thousand feet lower,” Scott said.

Patches of evergreens were sprinkled over the barren light gray expanse of granite that spread in all directions. Tiny lakes reflected the morning sunlight. The air moved through pine trees, an undulating low whoosh like a distant freeway.

“It’s beautiful, but so empty,” Marla said. She looked down at her hands and saw chipped red polish and dark grime under the nails. She glanced up at Scott.

“That’s part of the appeal. Besides, there’s no one to see how grubby we look,” Scott said. “You feeling lonely?”

“We haven’t seen anyone today. It’s so quiet it’s spooky.” Marla waved a hand at the desolate panorama. “I feel, I don’t know, vulnerable, like the world’s abandoned us. You think that’s silly?”

Scott pulled a water bottle from his belt and drank.

“Baby, I come here for solitude. Never thought you’d feel like this.”

Marla’s head whipped around to look at him. “Me either,” Marla said.

“We could bag the whole thing right here and go home,” Scott said.

Marla looked into his brown eyes. She tried to gauge the affect of turning back on their relationship.

“The hiking’s good even with the dirt,” Marla said, “And being with you.”

She smiled at Scott and buried her inner doubts, her decision made.

“I didn’t carry this pack up here just to turn around and haul it back down! Onward and upward!”

“Atta girl!” Scott said, “Nothing like a little thin air to make you feel invincible!”

Scott turned to point out their route.

“We’ve got less than three miles over Rockbound Pass and up Blakely Trail to Lake Lois,” Scott said. “We can shed the packs there and poke around the neighborhood. Maybe bushwhack up to Red Peak.”

Scott pounded the last tent stake into the hard ground of their solitary camp at Lake Lois. He gave it one last whack with the mallet, stood up and breathed in a lungful of crisp air. The afternoon sunshine was warmer than the air itself. Marla tugged on the visor of her hat to block the glare of the sun, intense at this altitude. She watched as Scott moved some large stones about the campsite.

“I had no idea you were so domestic!” she said.

“I strive to please,” Scott said in his best English butler voice. “Your chair, Madame.” He swept his arm towards a convenient granite boulder.

The sun dipped behind the westward range. They heated water on the tiny camp stove for a dinner of reconstituted stir-fry and hot chocolate. The sky grew dark. The temperature plummeted.

“We were in shorts two hours ago,” Marla said. She pulled a watch cap over her ears and tucked gloved hands into pockets. “Unbelievable!”

Scott wrapped his arms about Marla from behind. She leaned back as they gazed overhead. An extravagant flood of stars had appeared. They blurred into a speckled band that arched across the sky and cast a pale magical light over the wilderness.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Scott said.

“I didn’t know the sky could be like this,” Marla said. Caught in the timeless moment, she felt the pull of the mountains that drew Scott back repeatedly. Cold crept through the soles of their boots and into their feet. They stomped and then sought warmth inside their tent. The sleeping bags were zipped together to make a double, a cocoon sheltering them from the dispassionate cold solitude lying outside.

Scott prepared instant oatmeal and coffee as the sun rose over Dick’s Peak. Marla scrubbed herself less dirty with tepid water from the stove. She swung her arms to keep warm as she walked to the ice-rimmed lake to brush her teeth. Chipmunks scampered in silence from tree stump to boulder and back again. Scott had called them ground squirrels, but they looked like chipmunks to her. The quiet began to push against Marla. She returned to their campsite. Scott shouldered a daypack, “Ready to go? We can make Red Peak in time for an early lunch.”

They entered the forest on Blakely Trail and soon turned off to ascend a gravel slope. The pebbly footing gave way to steep exposed granite and, laughing, they scrabbled up it. Dwarf juniper clung to crevices in the rock, eking out survival in the scant soil. Scott paused to consult the map. A gust of wind whipped it from his hand. It landed a few yards to the right on a jumbled mound of rocks. Scott crab stepped after it. As he snatched the map, rocks shifted underfoot. His arms waved in the air as the footing gave way. As his foot sank into the shifting mass, Scott screamed.

“Scott! What happened?” Marla said.

“Twisted my ankle.” Scott gritted his teeth and pulled the buried foot from the rocks. Marla scrambled over on all fours to his side. He handed her the map and eased back against the rocks.

“Get my boot off, Baby.”

Marla undid the laces with shaking fingers and coaxed the boot off. The ankle was swelling and ugly with purple bruises. Marla looked from the foot to Scott’s blanched face.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Scott said. “Get the first aid kit from the pack.”

Scott clenched his teeth while Marla wrapped the ankle. She replaced the boot, trying not to add to his discomfort.

“Thanks. That’s the best we can do here,” Scott said.

He raised himself onto his good foot with Marla supporting his other side. Scott swayed and retched. They waited for his dizziness to ebb. With care they hobbled back to Lake Lois.

Scott sat with his ankle immersed in the frigid lake. Marla brought water and aspirin, “Maybe these will help. How is it now?”

Scott swallowed the tablets and shifted his weight on the rocky shore.

“Thanks, Baby. It hurts like hell. I’d kick myself for getting us into this fix, but I can’t manage it right now.”

She smiled through thin lips and dropped into a crouch next to him. “How long before you can walk on it?”

Scott scrutinized the foot and scowled, “I think it’s broken.”

“Broken. That’s great. Now what?” Marla said.

“We need to get help. Today.” Scott said.

“How do we do that? You can’t walk.” Marla said.

“No, but you can.”

Marla stood up, dropping the water bottle.

“Me? What do you mean?”

“Look at my damn foot! How else are we gonna get help?”

“I never wanted to come here in the first place. I wish we’d never come.”

Scott looked away, his shoulders hunched around his neck. She glared at his back. He turned to look at her, his face expressionless.

“OK. I’m sorry. But it doesn’t change anything. We need help,” Scott said.

Marla rolled her eyes and looked down at him. “How?”

“Joe and Ed, the guys at Maud Lake, are closest. Today’s Saturday. They’ll still be fishing, but’ll probably head home tomorrow morning.” Scott said. “You need to get to them today.”

“Can’t we wait for someone to come by?” Marla stared at him, eyes round.

“How long do suppose that might be?” Scott said.

She shook her head, “Oh, I can’t…”

“From here to Maud is just three miles. We did it yesterday. Without a backpack you can be there in a little over an hour. The guys could make it back here before dark.” Scott reached out for her hand, “What do you say?”

Marla looked at his foot. What choice did she have? An hour. Yes. Maybe she could do that. Marla took his hand and nodded her head in reluctant agreement.

“You’ll be fine.” Scott smiled at her, “Now, if they aren’t there…”

“Not there! Oh, they have to be!” Marla said.

“Well, let’s hope for that. But we need to plan, just in case.” Scott said. As he talked, Marla felt herself drawn along, bit by bit.

Marla headed west on Blakely Trail into the afternoon sun. She carried a lightweight daypack with a sleeping bag strapped underneath. The level trail was easy to follow for a mile to the Rockbound Pass turnoff. She followed Scott’s instructions and took the right fork. Marla used hands and feet to scramble up the high boulder steps. She imagined Scott trying to go up the switchbacks and grimaced. At the summit she paused to look at the map. Wind dried the sweat on her back as she peered at distant lakes. They all looked alike to her, but it didn’t matter. The trail led to Lake Maud with no branching. She couldn’t get lost as long as she stayed on the trail. Soon she would find the men. She descended the west side of the pass.

Marla stopped to rest at a sandy outcropping with low clumps of purple flowers. She drank water and glanced about. No trail ducks were in view. Marla frowned. She thought she was on the trail, but here the flat sand petered out and unmarked granite stretched before her. Which way had she come? She’d been walking downhill, but everything looked downhill. She felt her heart thudding in her chest. Marla turned. She retraced what she thought were her steps, back up the flat sandy spur. She searched for a reassuring stack of flat stones, an unnatural formation placed by human hands to mark the way. All was random nature. Panic welled up and she stood motionless. Isolation wrapped itself around her. Marla forced the sensation down. The trail was here. She had to find it. The trail must be higher up. She moved in the most vertical line she could manage. She had only gone about 20 feet when she spied three flat rocks stacked on each other well off to her right and below. Relief flooded through her. She had crossed the trail unawares. A solitary boulder had blocked the trail marker from her line of sight. Marla approached the duck and looked for others. She could see another one, farther right, towards the sun. She walked to it, and another came into view, no longer hidden by the curve of the slope. Her shoulders went slack as tension drained away. As she continued down the trail, Marla paused at each rock stack, checking for the next one before moving on.

Marla descended the trail and scanned for Lake Maud again. She now recognized it with ease. The lake lay in the gloom of afternoon shadows cast by western peaks. She didn’t see any tents. Maybe it’s the dim light she thought. Maybe they’re still there. The lake was lost from view as the trail entered pine forest. Marla trotted along the trail, now an obvious path under the trees. She passed through a boggy meadow of mountain heather clouded with mosquitoes. She emerged at Lake Maud and surveyed the lake perimeter, willing Joe and Ed to step into view. Despair crowded her as she walked through the vacant campsites that fringed the lake. She called out and the forest swallowed her words. Marla sat on a lone tree stump and hung her head. What to do? Scott said not to come back if no one was here, that she should go to Wright’s Lake. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked around again. A sob marred the silence. She squeezed her eyes shut against the empty forest and hugged herself. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed, except now she noticed a chill in the shady air. Maybe the men had just left Maud Lake. Maybe she could catch up to them further down the trail. Marla scratched at a mosquito bite on the back of her knee. They might have left yesterday. There was no way to know. No one built campfires out here. Procrastinating, Marla pulled trail mix out of her pack. The food consoled her more than she would have thought possible. She refilled her water bottle at the lake and dropped in an iodine tablet. Marla thought again about catching up with the men and labeled it wishful thinking. She was alone whether she stayed here or continued. Scott, damn him, was on the other side of Rockbound Pass, injured. Marla shouldered the daypack and continued towards Wright’s Lake.

The trail skirted Maud Lake to its southern tip and curved west across a level granite shelf. The terrain became sandy with bushy willows and an under-story of ferns and dried corn lilies. Marla tramped along, buoyed by the snack. The trail ascended into pine forest and emerged into sunlight. Ahead in the center of the trail was a mass that reminded Marla of old bear droppings they’d seen at Wright’s Lake. Something seemed different. She drew closer. The mound was dark and glistened. Steam rose into the air. Marla gaped, jumped back and shrieked. Still screeching, she whirled in a circle and cast about her. Where was the bear? She quieted to a last yelp and listened for noises in the forest. The only sound was the pounding of her heart. Then jays squawked, scolding her as they flashed blue from tree to tree. She summoned everything Scott had told her about bears. She could only remember about making noise. He hadn’t seemed concerned. Marla clapped her hands and hollered, “Hey, bear! Hey, bear! Go away.” She paused to listen, then slapped and shouted some more. Marla stayed where she was, making a din in the forest. Nothing happened for many minutes. Marla began to edge down the trail. She went as far as a bend in the trail and stopped. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t go back. Marla resumed her ruckus. She crept around the curve to an empty trail. She continued down the trail as she listened and watched for any sign of a bear.

Unbidden memories forced their way into Marla’s thoughts. A woman jogger hadn’t returned from her run. Her body found two days later, skull crushed, killed by a mountain lion. Morbid images crowded out the day. Marla saw nameless shadows moving in the forest, danger lurking behind every boulder, on every ridge. She whimpered and picked up a fallen branch. No help there. Her pace quickened and she broke into a run. She kept running, caught in a mindless dread. Fright yielded to exhaustion. She stumbled to a halt and leaned on her knees. She gasped for air, too tired to run. Marla felt numb. She noted the panic deep inside, waiting to bubble up again and spill over her. She pulled out the water bottle with shaking hands and gulped. The forest was still. It pressed on her from all sides. She looked at the bleak trail. The same trail she and Scott had hiked together two days ago. She had no idea how long she had run or how far she had traveled.

Marla trudged on into lengthening shadows, her footsteps heavy, until the trail faded in the growing dusk. At a flat area to the side of the trail she unrolled her sleeping bag. She sat on it and ate a cold dinner of salami and crackers. She pulled off her boots, crawled into the sleeping bag. She pulled the zipper up, resigned to a cold forsaken night with spooks for company.

Sunlight probed Marla’s eyes. A rock poked her in the ribs. She shifted. A new lump jabbed a shoulder. With a moan Marla unzipped and emerged into the chill morning air. Her body was stiff and she felt drained. The entire night had passed dreamless. This morning the trees harbored no dread secrets. The trail lay innocent in the morning light. Marla rolled up the sleeping bag and resumed her journey to Wright’s Lake. She had no idea how far she had left to go. She nibbled trail mix while she walked and, after twenty minutes, saw the back of a sign. She stepped to the front and read the faded yellow rectangle that proclaimed “Desolation Wilderness Area.” She found the wilderness boundary on the map and smiled, two miles to Wright’s Lake. The trail dropped lower and hopped over creeks. Pine forest gave way to aspen groves and thickets of huckleberry. She entered the Wright’s Lake camping area.

Marla glimpsed a tent through the trees. William and Betty were still there. She continued to the parking lot and the pay phone.

“Hello, 9-1-1?”

The dispatcher extracted the information needed to pluck Scott out of Desolation Wilderness. Marla hung up and heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind her. William was looking at her, concern etched on his face.

“Is everything all right? Where’s Scott?” William said.

Marla told him about Scott’s accident and her solo return.

”Search and Rescue will airlift him from Lake Lois. Take him to the hospital in South Lake Tahoe,” Marla said. She rubbed her cheeks dry.

“Scott’s lucky you’re looking out for him,” William said.

Marla straightened up and glared. “He got us into this mess.”

William took a step back. “Is there anything Betty and I can do to help? Would you like company at the hospital?”

“Hospital? I’m not going to the hospital,” Marla said. “Scott’s on his own now.”

She stalked to Scott’s car, got in and drove off.

William watched the car disappear in a cloud of dust. He scratched his head and said to himself, “Wonder if that bear has stopped running yet?”