On a July 9, 2004 trip in the Inyo Mountains, I attempted to drive to the Betty Jumbo Mine, over a narrow, Class-3 trail cut into the side of the rocks.  The trail got really scary, so I found a very rare wide spot, turned around and decided to head back, park the truck and walk the rest of the way to the mine.  Alas, that wasn't to happen.

As I headed back, I noticed that the trail conditions had changed drastically.  All of a sudden, only a few yards in front of me, a large boulder the size of a washer came crashing down from the slope above and landed on the trail, partially blocking the trail and making it a very narrow passage.  (Why didn't I remember my geology and park at the Alhambra Mine?)  About 20 feet past that rock, there were several more falling rocks, forming a large pile that really complicated my egress.  That pile wasn't there when I'd been by that spot, 10 minutes earlier.  So much for unstable geology...

Left:  I'm trying to winch one of the boulders that are blocking my way off the trail.  Right:  A friendly husband/wife team stop by and try to give me a bit of help.

So I got out of the truck to look over the situation and measure to see if I could get around the boulder.  It was do-able, as I had a total of about 18"; I figured that I could put 12" to my left, the drop-off side, and still clear the rock by a good 4-6."  As far as the other pile, I'd worry about that after I'd negotiated the first rock.

As I crawled slowly forward, all went well until the trail gave way and the truck started to slide over the edge of the trail, in the direction of Bee Springs Canyon.  Naturally, my first instinct was to bail out, which I did but that turned out to be a mistake, as I slid about 30 feet down the loose shale slope until I was able to stop myself.  I was dirty, cut and bruised, but ok.  It was quite interesting to claw my way up the slope to where the truck was perched.

The truck was situated in such a way, that my winch was almost useless.  Wait a minute!  There's that boulder 20 feet in front of me; a good winch point.  So, out came the winch, but I only succeeded in pulling the boulder a little closer to me.  Now, it was time to try something else.

Ok, so the easy way is no good.  After looking over the situation a bit, I came to the conclusion that I needed to angle the rear end of the truck over a couple of feet to the right and then I'd be ok.  Out came the high-lift jack, but in the attempt to position my jack, the bank gave way, and I found myself heading down Bee Springs Canyon AGAIN!  After another 30-foot slide, I was able to stop myself. However, there was no way that I could claw my way up the bank, as it was too loose.  Not to mention that little rocks and dirt kept cascading down and the truck was perched 30-feet above me, teetering on the edge.  I was also hurting, and didn't have the strength that I normally do have. Uncomfortable, to say the least to have to claw my way up the bank.

Well, it looked like I'd have to find another winch point.  There was a pinyon pine on the hillside about a hundred feet away, which would involve a difficult climb up a loose, rocky slope, but I had little choice.  So, with the tow strap over my shoulder and the winch hook in hand, I managed to scale the slope and attach the strap to the tree, and the winch hook to the strap.  Then I started to climb down the bank. As you probably know, it's harder going down steep, loose slopes than it is climbing up, and this one was no exception. I fell AGAIN, this time falling and rolling down a near-vertical slope and landing on the trail, on my stomach.  

Left:  The winch is attached to a pinyon pine, growing just above the vertical, white rocks.  I fell down the  slope just to the right of the rocks.  Right:  This photo gives you an idea of how close I came from going over the edge.

I can only attribute the fact that I was alive, or not seriously injured to the Grace of God.  Basically, I fell, rolled, whatever, off the cliff for 10 or 15 feet; I lost count of how far I fell.  It all happened so quickly that I didn't know what was going on until I was brushing myself off.

Next, I attempted to winch the truck forward, using the tree as my anchor. This accomplished nothing, as the bank caved in even more, the left front tire sidewall was punctured on a sharp rock, and I was going nowhere, except, possibly, into Bee Springs Canyon.  After this maneuver, more of the trail gave way and the now-flat, left-front tire, was gripping only air.  However, the truck was stabilized and was in no more danger of sliding off the edge into the canyon.  I sat down and analyzed the situation and decided I needed help.  A skyhook perhaps?

No, I'm a realist and I knew that I was over my head and in need of professional help.  Here's a good thing about getting stuck in the Inyos:  At 8000 feet, your cell phone works.  I called my wife, Sharlene, and gave her a brief account of what had happened; of course the first thing she was concerned about was that I wasn't injured.  I told her that I had a few minor scrapes and bruises, but I'd be ok and I wasn't going anywhere for a while, not to worry about me that I'd get out of it ok.

Well, time to call Miller's Towing again.  I explained to them my predicament and they let me know about how much it would cost me:  $225.00 an hour as soon as their wheels left the pavement.  Ouch!  I agreed to their terms, and they said that I'd need to meet them at Mazourka Canyon Road, an eight-mile walk, from where my truck perched on the edge of the canyon.  I had little choice but to agree to their terms.

Left: My truck is close to sliding down the mountain into Bee Springs Canyon.  Right:  Even in a situation like this, I try to retain my sense of humor.  Yes, that's dust falling down the slope  to the right of me. One of my visitors was kind enough to snap my photo.  Note that the tire is trashed and the truck is balanced on the edge of a shaky 45-degree slope.

Just about this time, a group of local residents showed up in a couple of well-equipped Jeeps.  They were rather jovial and seemed to be quite interested in my predicament, (easy for them!)  They offered to pull me out for an even $1000.00 but I decided to pass on their offer, but cheerfully smoked a couple of their cigars.  They also offered to give me a ride down the trail to Mazourka Canyon Road.  Not relishing the idea of spending the night there, thanked them but declined their offer.  After a bit of chit-chat, they left and I went to bed.

                                          

Saturday, July 10, 2004 - I got up at 0600, ate a cold can of beans for breakfast, grabbed some water and walked down the trail to Mazourka Canyon Road.  It took nearly 2-1/2 hours of walking mostly downhill, so I figure it was at least 8 miles, as I normally walk about 4 miles per hour on flat ground. However, I was not in my prime, as I was tired from the exertion the day before, not to mention I was hurting from the numerous cuts and bruises that I had incurred the afternoon before.

Just as they promised, the guys from Miller's Towing, John and Donny, showed at 0945 on Mazourka Canyon Road. I piled into their truck with them, and it was an 8-mile ride back up the mountain.  I recognized Donny from the day before, as he was one of the guys that pulled me off the culvert back at Independence.  

Left:  John Miller says "whew" as he tries to figure out how to retrieve my very stuck truck.  Note the bolder to the front right of the truck.  Right Donny and John attatch a winch cable to the rear of my truck.

When we arrived at my truck, they immediately realized that first the back end of it needed to be moved onto the trail, and then the front end.  They first tried attaching their winch to some rocks, but the rocks wouldn't hold.  So, Donny had to climb up the slope and attach a long cable to a pinyon pine way up the hill.  Using their front winch, and the winch on my truck, extra cable and a few snatch blocks, they managed to get my truck back on the trail. These guys know what they're doing, as they were able to get my truck back on the trail, from a almost-impossible position, with no damage from winching.  I want to note that the sheet metal damage to my truck, was caused by the situation, not by their actions or incompetence.

Left:  My truck is off the edge, but Donny still needs to make an adjustment to the winch cables.  Right:  John and Donny had to winch many of the fallen boulder from the trail so we could get out of the place.

It took nearly two hours of the most creative and elaborate winching that I've ever seen, to get my truck back on the trail.  Then, it was time to put the spare tire on the left-front wheel, as the original tire was punctured in the sidewall by a sharp rock; ruined.  To get down the hill, several large boulders had to be winched out of way, as they had fallen during the last couple of hours.  I followed these guys down the hill and to their shop in Lone Pine, where I paid the hefty bill.

Photo:  John gives instructions as Donny works the winch.  You can clearly see the intricate winch cable arrangements and the snatch block attatched to the front of my truck.

I had no more interest in four wheeling, nor did I have an interest in camping that day.  I was hurting, dirty, tired and still in a state of shock.  I decided to drive an hour north and stay the night at a motel in Bishop, before heading home the next day.

What went wrong?  Almost everything, including:

* Over confidence in my abilities and those of my truck

* Not "reading" the rocks that had fallen on the trail and the rocks read to fall from the slope above

* When conditions were getting a little "iffy" not stopping and scouting ahead

* Not "reading" the trail immediately in front of me

* Not remembering geology and the laws of physics

What went right?  These things, including:

* There were locals who came by to offer help

* My cell phone worked due to the high altitude

* My GPS mapping system worked fantastically

* I'm alive!

* The truck was recovered

To make a long story short, Murphy, and his law, were my companions, his law was prevalent, and I ignored both of them.  Not too smart on my part!

Now you ask, what did all of this cost me?  Read on:

* $1300.00 for the recovery bill

* $250.00 for a new tire

* $50.00 for a new tow strap, as the rocks ruined the one that I used

* $200.00 to purchase new suspension bars underneath the truck, plus a day for the truck to be "on-the-ramps" and for me to be "on-my-back" under it.  Oh well, the beers made it not so bad...

My injuries?  Cuts, scratches, abrasions to the front of both legs, left and right buttocks and left side and stomach. I also have minor cuts to the head and my ribs and chest are bruised, but nothing is broken.  I am in constant pain, but I can handle it, as I know I should be ok in a week or so.  I feel that I was lucky, or more importantly, God spared me as He must have a purpose for me, in order for me to get out of this with minor injuries and a moderate financial burden.  I guess I need to teach my grand kids what not to do on the trail!

Both photos:  Tuesday, July 13, 2004, 3 days after sustaining my injuries, Sharlene takes a couple of photos of some of the injuries that I can show you.  I'm still hurtin'...

If there is anything good to say about this trip, I can say that I learned a little bit more about the harshness of the wilderness, to take nothing for granted, and that, in the end, I came out alive.

By the way, after all of these hassles, I never had the chance to explore the mines or the monument that originally drew me to this trail.  Oh well, maybe next time, whenever that comes...