In 1974 I was living at Happy Acres with my girlfriend, Diamond Deb. I was in my mid-twenties. I was slim, strong and in very good shape from numerous strenuous outdoor activities. Deb, on the other hand, although equally young, was not slim or particularly strong and engaged in zero outdoor activities. She worked in a doctor's office and had the envious privilege of a two hour lunch break every day. This was before the era of jazzercise or dancersize or any of the other aerobic workout activities that were about to become all the rage, especially among women. For her lunch break, Debbie would come home from work (five minutes away) and lie on our waterbed and watch soap operas for two hours while eating her lunch. I was playing music at night for a living and had my days free to play volleyball doubles at the College of Marin with my buddies or run the local trails of Mount Tamalpais near our house. I was usually outside, when Deb came home for lunch, doing something manly and physical like the aforementioned, or collecting all the junk that lay all about this former horse pasture of three+ acres, and tossing it in the dumpster. My plan was to clean the place up so I could board horses here again for a little extra dough.
My music partner and I were just another Steak & Lobster guitar and voice duet. My father's admonition that music was a good avocation was never far from my thoughts. Although we garnered a modest following at our various venues, I had no presumption of making music a career. I mean; what was the next step up the ladder for us? Polka dot jump suits in a side lounge in Reno? I don't think so...
Debbie always demurred when I suggested some kind of healthful outdoor activity like going for a hike on the trails all around our homestead. That Spring I prepared to make my annual backpacking
sojourn to Yosemite. "Diamond Deb", says I, "I'm getting ready for my annual trek to Yosemite. I'll only be gone for four days and tell Dave (my musical partner in crime) I'll see him in Fresno for our gig at the Refectory Steakhouse." "Wait!", protested the Diamond D, "you're not even asking me if I want to go with you? Ever occur to you that I might like to go backpacking too?" "Listen Deb", I replied, "Backpacking requires a certain amount of...I dunno...being in shape! Since we've been together I haven't seen you doing anything remotely physical in nature." "Listen, you jerk! (she actually used a somewhat stronger epithet ending in 'hole' ", the Diamond Diva retorted, "I'm younger than you are and I swam in high school! Just for you knowledge Mr. Smartee Pants, I almost made the swim team!"
I tried to talk her out of it, but she employed the nuclear option. "If you loved me, like you say you do, you'd let come with you", simpered DD. And with that, the matter had been settled. She procured various camping and backpacking gear from similarly doubtful friends and we loaded up her VW camper. Our weekly three night gig was in the bay area and after the last gig was finished, Deb and I headed out to Yosemite at 2:00 AM (the gig finished at 1:00 AM, followed by a couple of pops at the bar before closing time) and drove all night. I had found what looked like a nice little hike with the trailhead at Wawona at the southern entrance to the park. It wasn't overly long and the loop included a nice little alpine lake at each night's stopping point. My little tourist map of Yosemite, unfortunately, did not include any topographical lines, connoting altitude change.
The next morning, though a bit red-eyed from no sleep, we eagerly embarked on our first camping adventure as a couple. "See Mike, doing stuff like this is what will bond us together. To make love last, you have to water the garden. It says so in my relationship book". With that positive and pleasant thought hanging in the air between us we headed up the trail. And I do mean up. Fairly shortly into our hike, Diamond Deb let out an anguished cry, threw off her backpack and flopped down on top of it. "My God! I'm having a heart attack!" She cried. "Feel my heart! It's beating at, like, two hundred beats a minute!" As she lay there on her pack with her chest heaving at, like, two hundred beats a minute, I realized that having never done any sort of aerobic exercise, she had never experienced a significant elevation in heart rate.
"Deb, just take it easy and breathe. Your heart is just doing what it's supposed to be doing under the circumstances. You're not feeling any searing pain and crushing weight on your chest are you?", said I. "Well, no, not yet. But at this rate my heart's bound to give out soon. I can't sustain this level of breathing and heart rate for long." "Just rest and you're breathing and heart rate will start to slow down. You're just not used to this level of exertion", I tried to reassure her. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to be scaling a damn mountain!" she retorted between sobbing breaths. "I'm sorry, Hon, there was no elevation change noted on the map; just these little lines connecting these three lakes. I'll tell you what", said I, "It's probably only a couple of miles to our campsite. I'm feeling fine so I'll carry your backpack for you and that will make your hike a lot easier."
As we slowly ascended up the trail, we began to see snow all around us and it eventually covered the trail as well. Things were warm and sunny down at Wawona, where we started, but I should have factored in the fact that it was April... As we proceeded, the trail disappeared and we had only the opening between the pine trees to guide us. That did not help alert us to streams beneath our feet that we would have stepped over if we had seen them. Deb was feeling better, now that her eminent heart attack had been averted, and offered to take up her backpack again. Soon after strapping up again, she had her first plunge through the snow to one of said streams. "Shit! I just broke through the snow and stepped into ice water! My feet are sopping. Oh, God! Why did I ever consent to go on this stupid trip with you!" "Well, if you'll remember, it was you who asked to come; I tried to discourage you." "Oh shut up. What's that up ahead. Is that a tree trunk over a river? Are we supposed to cross over on that thing? Look how fast that icy water is moving. Is there another way around? I've got a bad feeling about this."
"That little brook is called the Chilnwalna and it leads to the Chilnwalna Falls. It's probably really pumping with all this snowmelt. Maybe we'll be able to see it from our campsite which, I'm sure, is just around the bend up there, on the other side of that swiftly moving stream of icy water that's heading for the falls." "Shut up! I know what you're trying to do. Why are you trying to scare me? I'm already freaked out enough about trying to make it across that log." In my most soothing voice I tried to reassure her about the log crossing. "Listen, Hon, I'll go first. Follow my foot steps. Put your arms out for balance and look straight ahead. Just walk normally, but carefully. Think how good you'll feel when you get to the other side! You only have to cross about eight feet of stream."
I started across with Diamond Deb close behind me. I was about three feet from the end of the tree trunk bridge when I heard a splash behind me. Turning around, I saw a pair of hiking boots, sticking up in the air; midstream; heading merrily toward the Chilnwalna Falls. In a moment Debbie had managed to right herself. As soon as her very cold and wet head broke the surface she started screaming hysterically. Between shrieks, and many epithets, all of them aimed at me, she managed to slog her way to snowy river bank where I was able to help her clamber up and back on the trail. I was once again handed her pack and told what I could do with it. After a short interval we came to a lovely alpine lake... surrounded by snow. There was one patch that had been mostly in the sun and it was relatively dry. That was where we made camp.
Debbie immediately ordered our camp instructions. Pitch the tent, gather firewood and start a huge bonfire, cook dinner and set out all our wet things to dry. She was, understandably, too pooped to do anything but lie there and shiver, having run clean out of adrenaline. I did as I was bid and we soon had a roaring fire going. We propped our wet clothes on sticks near the fire. My beloved Purvetta-Cortina hiking boots were sopping and icy cold. If I was to have any comfort for tomorrow's hike I had to get those babies warmed up in a hurry. We lay there near the fire smoking a joint and enjoying a bit of well earned grog while we watched our clothes steaming in the firelight, our bellies full of freeze dried din-din. Suddenly Debbie let out a shriek and pointed to my boots. The heat of the fire had caused a huge goose egg to swell up out of the vibra sole of my left boot. I quickly jumped up and grabbed it and plunged it into the snow. Eventually the swelling died down but those boots never quite fit the same again.
The next year I did a forty mile hike along the John Muir trail heading south from Tuolomne Meadows. Diamond Deb, the gal with ice water in her veins, didn't ask to join me. As I was leaving I thought I heard her mutter something about being eaten by a bear...
Happy trails, campers! Mickey da Mayor of Happy Acres
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