Rescuing Don

May 10, 2008
Tags: Mount Tamalpais

On the Wednesday of my trip to San Francisco, Jennifer took off work so that we could visit Muir Woods and the East Peak of Mount Tamalpais. We completed the circumnavigating trail, stopping along the way to breathe in the beautiful views of the bay area. Once visitors complete the 1.2-mile trail that goes around the peak, most head up the steeper 0.3-mile trail to the peak itself as we then did.

As Jennifer and I headed up the peak trail, we met a group of retirees who were looking for someone named Don as they headed back down from the top. Apparently Don, who they described as an older man with white hair, had left on his own and they hadn't met him again like they'd expected. Since there seemed to be no sense of urgency, Jen and I told them that we'd send him to the parking lot below, should we cross paths. They then continued downward and we headed up.

About 1/10 mile later, we hear a "help" from the hills above. "Hello?" got a "help!" reply. "Are you Don?" ... "Yes. I fell up here and I can't get out. I've got this 2-by-4; can you see me?" At this point an 8-foot pole appeared about 20-25 feet above us. We told Don that we could see him. He wasn't injured, but our vantage point and his resting spot were separated by a thick layer of prickly greenery. Jennifer headed up the path some more to see if she could find where Don had fallen, and I tried to push my way into the bushes with little success, as they were healthy enough to resist breaking. Jennifer returned having found no way to reach him and we traded spots - I went up myself while Jen headed down to meet Don's party and let them know what was up.

At the top I wandered around the various dirt tributaries, which led me all over the peak except on the side where we had seen Don's 2x4. I could tell by the way the paths branched that it was reasonable for someone to take the wrong one; while there was one clear path on the way up, there seemed to be several potential paths down, all but one of which led to prickly stops. I ran into a late-20's hiker at the top named Amy. She explored the top as well before eventually following me back down to where we could communicate with Don. Jen had brought up Don's party, and the woman presumed to be Don's wife began talking to him. "Just push the branches over! Break your way through!" I failed to articulate in any audible form that it would be pretty much impossible for him to do that, but I laughed a bit inside as he began tossing tiny twigs into the air to indicate his progress.

By this point we had placed three separate calls to emergency services, and since there was no sense of urgency to the situation, I figured we were mostly content to let the authorities show up with some rope (to get to Don from above, somehow), or a saw to cut away some of the bushes. Amy, apparently, didn't see any reason to wait, and she began climbing over the bushes to make a path to Don. (Of course I felt a bit helpless as I'd resigned to making any progress, while Amy was clearly making plenty ... but this was later softened as we learned that she would later be heading to climb Alaska's Mt. McKinley.) Eventually she reached Don and began to reverse her path. As they slowly worked back down to meet the group, Don's wife revealed that he had recently undergone brain surgery to remove a tumor, and the surgery had affected parts of his memory. While he seemed completely lucid as we talked to him, this helped to explain how he might have ended up in this predicament in the first place. Apparently he had simply chosen one of the incorrect paths down, and when it trickled off he just kept going.

Amy eventually made her way down, speaking in a light Minnesota-style accent ("doncha know!") with the poise of a rescue worker, conversing with Don the entire time. As she and Don joined the group, we all sighed with relief as everyone exchanged hugs and said their thank-you's. Don's group headed down to the parking lot, leaving me and Jennifer to contemplate what had just occurred. "Should we go back up to the peak?" "Naaah."