What are you wearing?

I have always been drawn to the allure of remote wilderness areas, particularly those adorned with alpine lakes nestled amidst towering mountain peaks. The serenity and unbridled freedom I experience in these pristine landscapes evoke a profound sense of calm within me. The crisp, invigorating scent of pine needles mingles with the pure mountain air, while the sight of crystal-clear alpine lakes reflecting the surrounding peaks instills a deep appreciation for the raw beauty of nature. Each step along the rugged trails leads to a symphony of sights and sounds.

It’s in these moments that I find myself truly present, humbled by the grandeur of the natural world and grateful for the opportunity to immerse myself in its untamed splendor.

However, over the years, many of my hiking partners have gradually lost their enthusiasm for hiking, providing various reasons for no longer being committed to trekking in nature together. I used to believe ghosting and being dumped were only associated with romantic relationships, but I was proven wrong.

Many of my friends have cited a range of reasons for no longer being able to hike with me. Some have shifted their leisure activities towards the comfort of their living room sofa and the allure of the TV remote control. Football, streaming the latest show or gaming apps have become their escapes from reality. They don’t even have to leave home to be in their version of paradise.

Others are selective about weather conditions, only willing to hike in the fairest of weather. Any day below 70 degrees Fahrenheit or where there was the slightest chance of even a sprinkling of rain or snow, they were out completely.

Then there are long time friends and hiking buddies who have abandoned their love for losing themselves in the woods, in favor of the fast-paced world of Pickleball, a sport that conjures comical and exaggerated images of an enormous Dill pickle being batted back and forth between two rackets shaped like hamburger buns held in the hands of a couple wearing matching white shorts and sun visors.

Sadly, some former hiking partners had physical injuries which kept them from joining me on my outings into the wild.

Despite the mental and physical challenges which float to the top of my thoughts at the prospect of hiking alone, I remained determined to continue to explore the remote and beautiful areas of Colorado.

One Sunday morning in late September, I made the decision to venture into the Stormy Peaks wilderness area of Northern Colorado. The vibrant gold and red hues of the turning Aspen leaves motivated me to seize the opportunity before the arrival of winter blanketed the colorful landscape with snow and ice.

My alarm sounded at 5:30am and I was out of my door and in my car by 7am.
I proceeded to blindly follow the route provided by Google Maps, which led me along an extremely steep dirt road with no railing or protection. Although daunting, it paled in comparison to the events that would unfold later in the day.

Equipped with my reliable and pricey gear from REI, several layers of warm clothing, a backup battery charger for my phone, extra provisions, and water, I considered myself well-prepared for the journey. For those of you who may not be familiar with REI, it is an outdoor enthusiast’s dream come true. For others, myself, included, it is a bit of a nightmare on my finances. How have I come to own 8 different back packs, 10 packable puffy coats and 6 varieties of hiking hats? Is there a support group for outdoor gear addicts? A trip to REI is more dangerous for many of the population than climbing Mt. Everest.

Some women are addicted to buying designer brand shoes, I am addicted to outdoor gear! My Patagonia all weather hiking pants are for me like owning a Coach purse or a pair of Manolo Blahnik high heels.

However, even with all the money I spent on gear I had neglected to activate a trail app on my phone, assuming a well-marked trail with good signage and the presence of other hikers would suffice as my navigation tool. Why not? It has worked countless times before on my solo hikes.

Upon reaching the trailhead parking lot around 9 am, I embarked on my adventure, embracing the breathtaking colors of the Aspen leaves. The scenery felt almost otherworldly, like stepping into a magical fairyland or a painting by one of the masters. Could Van Gough have created these scenic vistas? How would Picaso have represented the snowed capped mountains?

During the initial mile of my hike, I encountered a pile of animal excrement laced with the remnants of red berries, hinting at the potential presence of a bear in the vicinity. I heard my Mom’s voice in my head, “Oh my God Sarah, you shouldn’t be out hiking by yourself you will be eaten by a bear!” My Mom’s favorite thing to say to me was either I was going to be eaten by a wild animal or only a man should be going out hiking alone. Ladies don’t hike alone. Ladies don’t change tires alone or jump car batteries nor do ladies curse or drink. Ladies also don’t fix things around their house on their own. Ladies should not drive their cars alone on a busy highway and most of all ladies should never ever put themselves in a predicament to be eaten by a bear without a man present.

Despite the crappy warning message dumped in the middle of the trail that I almost stepped right onto with my Keen hiking boots, I pressed on, dismissing my mother’s frantic omnipresent voice in the back of my head about human eating bears. How was she so certain? My thought was I should be more afraid of man himself not animals.
I had opted to leave my bear spray at home, sighting the reason as not wanting to add extra weight to my pack. I brushed off the concern, 2 or 3 extra pounds in my pack, versus fighting a bear off with my bare hands. Makes sense to me.

As I ventured further along the trail, the thought of potential bear encounters slowly faded out of my mind.

The trail also offered a detour to the site of a historic B-17 plane crash, a reminder of the area’s rich but somber history. On June 13, 1944, an Army Air Forces B-17, known as the Flying Fortress, was conducting a training mission out of Rapid City, S.D., when it went off course and slammed into a snow-covered mountainside a quarter mile from an existing trail, killing four of ten crew members on board. Two of the survivors hiked 14 miles to get help.

No way could my day turn out to be anything like the difficulty the flight crew had to endure.

Despite the heavy sad gravitational pull of the historical event, I was determined to focus on the beauty of the present moment and the natural wonders that surrounded me.

Encountering only two fellow hikers the entire day who asked me if I knew how to get to the B17 crash site, I continued my journey, pausing frequently to capture the breathtaking scenery through my phone camera.

At this point I should let my audience know that I can easily take more than 100 photos in a single hiking expedition. To some that may be excessive to others normal. However, I use a hiking excursion to weed out potential romantic partners based on whether they take photos with me or at the very least patiently remain quiet while I snap photos. The moment someone says, “I can’t believe you are wasting all our time taking photos.” I am out! Done! Next!

The trail led me across a picturesque moraine and as I ascended more than 1,400ft of elevation gain, stunning views of the surrounding mountain range, fueling my sense of awe and appreciation for the wilderness.

As I trekked through the thousands of fallen leaves, the solitude of the trail struck me as unusual for a Sunday. The scarcity of fellow hikers, while unexpected, added an element of serenity to my expedition.

Finally, after 2 or 3 hours of hiking, I reached a vantage point that unveiled the majestic “Stormy Peaks,” a sight that compelled me to indulge in a flurry of photographs, each attempt to encapsulate the grandeur of the landscape.

After covering nearly 7 miles and enduring a significant elevation gain, I decided to pause for a well-deserved lunch.

After lunch, I found myself inadvertently straying from the trail, gradually venturing into unfamiliar terrain adorned with thick vegetation. I just wanted a few more photos of this spectacular view which I could not get from staying right on the trail.
I had been wandering around on the lichen covered rocks and thick, rough undergrowth when I realized I had completely lost sight of the trail.
I checked my phone; I had no service. The wind had intensified, gusting at 40 to 50 miles per hour especially since I was at an altitude well above tree line. I figured I had to reach the top of the nearest peak for two reasons: to orient myself and locate the trail, and perhaps, just perhaps, to get a signal on my phone. While I had sufficient clothing, food, and water, being stranded in the wilderness after dark was not an option I wanted to choose.

The thought of becoming dinner for a bear in the dead of night was not a comforting one.

Struggling against the fierce wind, I ascended one of the peaks, using my hands to steady myself on the steep slope. Finally, I sat down and, to my relief, saw a single bar on my cell phone.

Without hesitation, I dialed the number no one ever wants to dial—911. A young man answered, and I quickly informed him of my predicament. His first question, “What are you wearing?” caught me off guard. My first instinct was to sarcastically respond with “My bikini top, cut off jean shorts and flip flops, What are you wearing?”
Suppressing my frustration, I assured him that I was appropriately dressed for the wilderness. After confirming that he could see me on his GPS but not the trail, he advised me to descend straight down. However, peering over the steep mountainside, I saw no sign of a trail—following his advice would have led me to a perilous drop. Frustrated, I ended the call and made my way to the mountain’s summit before descending to a flatter terrain. I was looking for any familiar land mark which would lead me back to the trail.

Still unable to spot the trail, upon finding a bar on my phone, I dialed 911 again. This time, a calm female voice responded. I repeated my plea for assistance, hoping she could guide me back to the trail while I still had service. She explained that their technology couldn’t track my movements in the detail I was desperately hoping for but assured me she had access to a map from the Forest Service and would do her best to direct me.
As she guided me, I asked if a forest ranger could come to meet me, but she informed me that the nearest station was several hours away and a helicopter rescue was impossible due to the extremely strong winds.

As the sun sank lower and the wind grew colder, I knew I had to pull myself together and find the trail. The operator’s voice broke through the wind, “Sarah, work with me here. Do you know which direction is West?” Never Eat Soggy Waffles came from the other end of the phone! Why would she tell me what I shouldn’t eat for breakfast at a time like this? I was baffled!

She explained is If North is on the top or in front, then East is on the right, South is at the bottom (behind) and West is on the left. Yes, I did know which direction was West because the sun was starting to lower itself just below the tops of the peaks. She told me to turn so my back was facing West and then I should attempt to walk Southeast. As I walked, I was hoping she could stay on the phone with me because her voice, that scrambled phone connection eased my intense feeling of loneliness. No such luck, after only about 5 minutes I lost service, and our call was instantly dropped. Alone again naturally pulsated through my thoughts.

Her instructions had led me in the right direction, after my service was lost, I followed her guidance. 15 minutes felt like an eternity; I saw the trail! I recognized the surrounding landscape. I had did it. I was no longer lost! What an amazing sense of gratitude washed over me. Thank goodness I hadn’t followed the earlier advice of the first 911 operator “What are you wearing guy,” and walked myself over a treacherous cliff just like Wylie coyote in the Road Runner cartoons, I quickened my pace.

I tried to call back to inform the 911 team of my success in locating the trail, I realized I still had no service again. It wasn’t until about 5pm I finally found a clearing where I had a bar of on my phone and dialed 911 once more.

Hello 911, What is your emergency said the woman on the call. I explained who I was and what had happened. Oh yes Sarah I know who you are, I was instantly mortified, who wants to be famous for getting lost on a day hiking excursion. Especially when the entire affair could have been avoided by me simply subscribing to an App on my phone.

Each call had connected me to a different dispatch location. Despite feeling embarrassed at being known as “the lady who was lost while hiking,” I informed this most recent operator of my return to the trail and asked her not to deploy a search and rescue party.

As I made my way back, I couldn’t help but feel relieved that my ordeal was over.
I am entirely grateful to the woman whose calm demeanor and intelligence guided me safely back to trail.

The next day I went home and of course downloaded both a compass app and two trail tracking GPS apps which allowed me to download the map to my phone when my service was lost and if I veered off the trail the app would let me know!