Encountering a Real Life Angel

The story I'm about to tell you happened in a time before smartphones and GPS and inReach devices. There was a time in our very recent past when people went into the woods and voluntarily disappeared for a few days or weeks.

It was called backpacking in the age before technology.

And it was a beautiful thing; being able to disconnect from what everyone thought then was the stress of everyday life (oh, how naive we were). It was also terrifying if one's mind allowed in thoughts of what could go wrong... and how far away you were from safety. From help.

Desperate for the Outdoors

I was about 23 years old. And I was desperate to make up for some lost time. I'd met new people who recounted their adventure stories about being fearless and traveling around the wilderness, wandering around camping, and surviving out of just the pack on their back. I was awestruck. I had dreams of being like these people, trekking up the highest mountains and spending weeks out on a trail like the Appalachian, conquering nature and getting plenty of bug bites in the process.

After reading a few books, I decided it was my time to experience this type of adventure. I planned a big trip to test my fortitude: a 10-mile hike into the wilderness with a final destination completely worth it, a natural hot springs pool waiting at the end.

Every book I read on backpacking clearly stated that it was dangerous and you shouldn't really backpack without a partner.

I am not happy to admit that I ignored this advice. I went out. Alone.

On the Open Trail

It was springtime, and I took a long weekend off from work. I figured I would hike in, spend a night or two, and hike out. How hard could this be? There was supposed to be a clear trail all the way in and out. I was sure I wouldn't get lost.

My journey started off on a great note; everything went according to my plan. I had a nice early morning drive to the trailhead. The sun was shining bright and warm and the springtime air smelled of pine sap. Life was grand.

The trail was challenging, but I had youth on my side. I kept a nice, even pace and stopped for water and snacks when needed. For several hours, I left the stress of my corporate job behind. I was alone in my thoughts. Eventually, it felt as though my thoughts disappeared, replaced by complete immersion in the experience. My body started to feel fatigued towards the end (as I had done no official training or prep work for this adventure). But, the lure of a bubbling, sulphuric hot spring to ease my sore muscles was all I needed to push through.

I arrived at the trail's end with a fair amount of daylight to spare. I was happy with my pace and elated that the path had been clearly marked the entire way. But the positivity party abruptly ended when I reached my destination. I found the hot springs, which was a plus, but I couldn't locate the campsites. It was then I realized they were a bit further beyond the pools. There was only one problem: a massive river stood between me and the campsites on the other side.

"I don't remember anyone saying anything about a raging river," I probably said aloud.

I was completely dumbfounded. Mentally, I scanned my options. The trail had been a lot of elevation gain and loss, so there wasn't really any other place I could remember to set up camp. There was no physical way to turn around and hike back out the whole 10 miles without getting some rest first. But if I rested too long, I would risk losing daylight soon. It was still early spring, and the days didn't languish on forever like they do in summer.

I gazed at the river in front of me and made the only decision I could think of at the time. I decided to cross it.

Making It to the Other Side

I'd never crossed a river before, nor had I read up on how to do it. This was an unexpected obstacle. I didn't realize it at the time, but the river was typically a piddly little stream in the summer when most people hike this trail. Of course, I had come earlier in the season, which I later learned meant that the significant snowfall in the mountains above resulted in subsequent springtime snowmelt...

Thus, the raging, icy cold river that now stood before me.

I tried to use my brain and intuition as much as I could. I stripped off my socks and shoes, unzipped my convertible pants legs, and clung to my trekking poles. Oh, how grateful I was for those poles. They felt like a lifeline at that moment. I gazed at the water and tried to decipher where the path might be the shallowest. Finally, I chose my course and went for it.

It wasn't easy. In fact, it was terrifying. The water rushed super fast. It froze my skin. As I took each stop, the water seemed to get deeper, swallowing first my ankles, then my calves, then just above my knees. Luckily I stood my ground (thanks to my trusty trekking poles). I made it past the deepest, middle part of the river and out to the other side.

It felt like a fantastic accomplishment.

Best of all, the campsite I'd been looking for was right on the other side. All was well. I set up camp and told myself it was best not to cross the river again until tomorrow. I decided to forgo the hot springs that night and swing by them the next day as I made my way back out the trail towards my car.

That night I had another surprise - a second camper! I had barely encountered another human on my journey out to springs, so imagine my surprise when another person showed up 10 miles out in the wilderness. He was also backpacking alone but appeared to have much more knowledge than I. We spent the night chatting and sharing stories with one another. Little did I know at the time that I was speaking to who I now believe to be my guardian angel incarnate.

We went off to our tents for a good night's sleep and decided to head to the hot springs in the morning.

That next day I was so eager to experience these springs I'd come for that I quickly packed up my entire camp and told my new travel buddy that I would meet him over on the other side. He said he'd be just a few minutes behind me.

You Saved My Life

As I approached the river for my second crossing, it dawned on me that perhaps I could find a better place to cross. It seemed logical at the time. So I spent a minute or two remembering where I had crossed the day prior, and then I moved just slightly further down from that spot. A place caught my eye because it appeared to have slower moving water which I thought meant shallower water.

I stepped into the river in this new spot and was again surprised by its ferocity. A part of me questioned whether this was a good idea, as the river seemed deeper and faster than it had yesterday. But something inside of me ignored that and just took the next step. I immediately sank so far into the river that I lost my footing and was quickly swept away.

It all happened so fast, literally in the blink of an eye. All I remember was feeling cold and terrified and being dragged down the river with my pack still on. I banged into a rock and then hung on for dear life. It's all a blur, but somehow, whether a conscious decision or not, I got out of the river by tossing myself from that rock to another rock and then finally to the other side of the river.

And then my memory stops. I don't know what happened to time. It seemed to stand still. It almost felt like I fainted, but I hadn't. I came to and realized I was dripping wet, freezing cold, and standing on the side of the river. Then I saw my new travel buddy on the other side. He looked at me, shocked and stunned, and he registered that something awful had happened. He quickly but skillfully made his way across the river.

I don't recall much except that he seemed to know what was happening and knew what to do. I was in shock and likely turning hypothermic. He had all the necessary supplies: extra socks, mittens, a hat, a space blanket. He wrapped me in all of these warm clothes after I removed my soaking wet ones. Then he lit up his camp stove to have me sit by it and warm me back up.

He literally saved me. It is hard for me to go back in my memory and imagine what I would have done if he hadn't been there: if I had been all alone like I was so stupid to do in the first place.

Then, after I was sufficiently warmed, he carried my entire backpack and his backpack while we both hiked the 10 miles out to our cars. He literally hiked 10 miles with twice as much stuff as he had come in with, while I slowly and painfully hiked behind him.

I was battered and bruised and looked as though I'd tripped and fallen down a flight of stairs. But I was alive. I had re-warmed. I was safe.

Encountering a Real-Life Angel

This man saved my life. I told him that and asked him how in the world could I ever repay him? You know what he said, "You can buy me a burger and a beer." So that's what I did.

It feels like nothing I could ever do would be enough to repay a human for doing something so selfless and so brave. He and I stayed in touch for a while afterward. But it's been many years now; I've changed emails, phone numbers, and addresses so many times that I have lost contact with this man, this real-life angel.

I just hope he knows the unbelievable gratitude I have in my heart for him and his actions. That, when I tell the story, I always refer to him as my real-life angel: the man who saved my life.

And how I promised myself I would never go backpacking alone again.