In mid-afternoon my cousin, Dan, called a halt to the clearing process so we could hike out of the wilderness in time for a reunion dinner. Adam, a Forest Service employee, led us to supplies parachuted in by the Forest Service a week before, and at 4 o’clock we refilled our water bottles from them. They had been used to aid in fighting a forest fire. Christiane, a young idealist who lived with my aunt, called these supplies ranger trash.

At 4:30 I was lagging behind the others because my knee was hurting. I realized I was off the trail. I saw a flash of yellow ahead as Adam's jacket disappeared into the woods from a clearing and figured that if I took a course to that spot I would intersect the trail. I did and I didn't.

I had to get to the reunion dinner. I was an experienced hiker. If the others could follow the trail, I could too. I plunged into the woods, in the direction I thought I had seen Adam go, sure that I would pick up the trail soon. Unfortunately, I didn’t. It was nowhere to be found and by the time I acknowledged that finding it was not going to be easy I was too far away from the clearing to retrace my steps to it.

Since I now wasn't in a place where anyone was likely to look, I set a course along the contour line, keeping the setting sun on my left in order to head north. I gradually lost altitude. I had taken a look at Adam’s map when we had stopped for water, but not thinking I would have to navigate on my own, I hadn’t tried to memorize it. I did have a compass, but as long as the sun was up I didn’t need to use it.

I scrambled through brush and over and around fallen trees. Occasionally, I had to crawl a few feet. Sometimes I carried my shovel and sometimes I dragged it behind me. Even though I favored my sore knee I made good progress, and I came to a trail within half an hour. This must be the correct trail. I took it in the downhill direction, which I assumed would take me to the parking lot where a car was waiting.

Meanwhile, my companions returned to the clearing and searched for me for an hour. When they didn’t find me, Adam used his radio to call in the Alpine Rescue Team, a trained group of volunteers. They brought dogs to help in the search: a Husky, a bloodhound and a German shepherd.

I left my shovel stuck in the ground with a note and after considerable downhill hiking I came to a trail intersection in the shape of a T. One of the branches of the T was the continuation of the trail I was on, which a rough sign informed me was called the Cub Creek Trail. The other branch didn’t have a name.

I rested for fifteen minutes and pondered what to do. Then I hiked in both directions, in turn, until each trail started uphill. Back at the intersection, I realized that neither of these alternatives was correct. In fact, all three directions from the intersection went uphill. Wherever I was, it wasn’t anywhere near the parking lot. I took off my shorts and put on my jeans, even though it was still warm. I got out my compass and flashlight.

The Alpine Rescue Team met my group at the parking lot. Charley, the leader, put together a profile of me by asking questions of Dan and the others. He was impressed with my experience and decided that I probably wouldn’t panic, even alone in the wilderness. Little did he know. In addition, he said most lost hikers stayed close to where they got lost. Sorry about that, Charley.

It was 7:40 p.m. I could bivouac at the intersection and would be found eventually, I was certain, but it was clear that I would still have to hike up one of the three trails to get out. It was better that I do the uphill hiking now while I still had some energy. I didn’t want to retrace my steps so I chose to continue in the direction in which I had been headed, on the Cub Creek Trail. The trail went up—and up—and up. Resigned to a long hike, I went slowly to conserve my energy and my sore knee. I was continuously thirsty, but I only sipped at my water.

I started to use my flashlight, flicking it on and off to save the batteries. The trail was well maintained and I could sometimes follow the cut through the thick growth of evergreen trees, even with the flashlight off. Then the trail came to a dead end. It disappeared, just like when I had first gotten lost. Half a dozen times I returned to the spot where I thought I had left the trail and headed in different directions, but the result was always the same. No trail. Finally, I retraced my steps another fifteen yards and found that what I had thought was the trail wasn't. Fortunately, the real trail now appeared as a white strip, lit by the flashlight and the moon.

Relief flooded through me. Moving more slowly and cautiously than ever, I continued along the trail. It leveled off and headed downhill. I learned later that I had hiked over Shadow Mountain at 10,500 feet, from a low of 9,000 feet. The moving shadows caused by the flashlight shining on the bushes beside the trail looked like animals slinking through the night. I searched nervously for bears. Why else would this be called the Cub Creek Trail?

Then I received the first really good news since I had found the trail after I became lost. I passed a sign, facing in the opposite direction from where I was heading. I turned around and read it. The sign welcomed hikers to the Mt. Evans wilderness area. I reasoned this meant that I must be leaving the Mt. Evans wilderness area—and, hopefully, approaching civilization.

Another sign marked the national forest boundary. At about 11 p.m. I reached a fence that marked the end of the trail. I was never so glad to see a "No Parking" sign. I was now on a dirt road. There were houses along the road. I would go up to one of the houses and ask for help.

Most of the houses were dark. I took the road in the downhill direction, looking for a house with lights on. I spotted one with a relatively short driveway. I shone my flashlight on the porch by the front door and a large dog, stationed there, started barking at me. I quickly decided against seeking help at a house. It occurred to me that dogs and people made this area more dangerous than the woods.

The road went steadily downhill, but it seemed to continue forever. I flagged down the first moving car I had seen since coming out of the woods. I asked the two teenage girls in the car how to get to a telephone. They said to go all the way down to the bottom of the road and turn left. I finally reached the telephone at 12:30 a.m. I called 911 and a deputy sheriff came and stayed with me until my aunt arrived and rescued me.

Charley and the Alpine Rescue Team didn’t get credit for a “find” because I walked out of the woods before they caught me. Finds are what they live for since they don’t get paid. However, Charley found something better—a wife. He and Christiane started dating. They are now married and have two daughters.