It was finally Tuesday, and that meant “girl’s night out” for Leesa who planned on linking up with some friends for dinner and good times in Lynnwood. So, with nothing better to do, and no movie times lining up with my schedule, I decided it would be a great night for a hike in a sprawling area known as the “Cougar Mountain Regional Wildlife Park.”
Cougar Mountain – with over 3000 acres of varied terrain and 36 miles of trails, it’s hard to stay away and not hike since it is only minutes from major population centers. Add to that that within the park there is an old Nike Missile base, as well as hundreds of old mine shafts (most closed), and more wildlife than you could count makes this a popular destination year-round.
On this trip (and as is normal for me) I planned on taking my whole pack load as you never know what you are going to run into while hiking (amen!) whether you are a quarter mile up the trail or ten miles up. I also made sure my cell phone and amateur radio were charged as well. Also on board was the SPOT (personal satellite tracker), and a high-end EPIRB (aka ELT – Emergency Locator Transmitter).
I put a blurb out in my Facebook page, inviting anyone that wanted to pound some trail to meet me at 6pm at what is known as “Anti-Aircraft” peak, so named since back when the area was a missile base they had AA guns in place there.
Throwing the pack and a Green Trails map for the area into my truck, I rolled out into the 75+ degree weather and turned onto 405 heading toward Bellevue without a care in the world. The day was perfect, and even though I was not jumping off till 6pm, it would not start to get dark until about 9pm. I also knew the park would not close until dusk – plenty of time to put some miles on my boots before I had to drive home.
In no time I was at the trailhead, and I noticed there were only two cars in the gravel parking area. I found this odd since this was such a popular place to hike and walk. Regardless, I broke out my gear, gave it a last once-over, and waited a few more minutes to see if anyone would show up (no one did).
At 6:10 I finally decided to get moving, and started down what is known as the “Shangri La” trail that roughly heads SE and away from the areas that I have hiked in before. While the route was relatively easy, it drops elevation rapidly and I had to continually remind myself that sooner or later I was going to have to come back UP this way. Ugh.
Saying there were a few bugs out that night would be an understatement, so I stopped after 10 minutes of hiking and slathered on some DEET. I also took a minute to relieve myself in some bushes nearby, and by doing so got stung by some Nettles on my legs. While highly uncomfortable, it’s pretty standard out here, and the pain eased once I put on some topical Benadryl I carry in my first aid kit. Since I was not anticipating doing any “bushwhacking” on this hike, I didn’t bother to wear long pants.
Little did I know I would later pay dearly for this oversight.
I reached the first junction, and there I could either go right on the “Protector Trail,” or continue down Shangri La and intersect one called the “West Tibbetts Creek Trail.” Since I was looking to stretch my muscles a little on this hike, I decided to continue farther down knowing the route back would give me a good workout.
Soon I was at the junction of West Tibbett’s Creek Trail and Shangri La. I took a left, jumping on Tibbett’s for the short jaunt over to the “Bear Ridge E3 Trail,” and eventually down to the “Fantastic Erratic” glacial boulder. With a name like that, I just HAD to see what this is all about! Unfortunately, it meant even more elevation drop. “No pain, no gain” I thought, and continued on my way.
Reaching the rock (it’s just a big rock… go figure), I started to get a little concerned at the time I had left. I had to make it back to the parking area before dusk, otherwise my truck might get locked in (not good). So, checking the map I noticed a little crossover path from Bear Ridge Trail (that I was currently on) to the West Tibbett’s’ Creek Trail. I decided to drop down, take the crossover, then start to ascend back up the mountain eventually picking up the Shangri La trail again and then back to the truck. By my calculations, I would have just enough time to do that and be back by dusk. I was now about 900 feet below and over a mile (as the crow flies) from Anti-Aircraft peak.
This is where things started to get a little strange.
Upon reaching the crossover trail, I turned left. The trail was very nice with some benches planted along the way (nice, but unusual). After a minute or so I wondered why I had not reached the West Tibbett’s Creek Trail yet. Instead, I reached a very nice bridge and could not help but notice the construction machinery and outlines of new homes looming through the trees. “What the hell” I said under my breath as I climbed the trail into the new housing complex.
While the homes were very nice, and I knew that even on my best day I could probably only afford a garden shed (barely) in this neighborhood, it still left the nagging question of were the hell did the trail go and which way now?
I would like to point out that I have hiked in the Cascades over some of the most rugged terrain there is. I have forded creeks, rivers, and crossed bogs. I have climbed mountains, hopped over talus slopes, slid down tailings piles, and waded through snow drifts. All seasons, in all weather conditions, and all terrain types without much trouble – but this “urban” stuff had me stumped. Maybe I just do better where there aren’t $700 custom made mailboxes and visitor centers with espresso carts.
I stopped and took a good look at the map, trying to correlate what I saw on paper with what is in front of my eyes. I DID find a water tank symbol on the Green Trails map, but saw three tanks in front of me up on the hills. Other than that, not much was lining up and there sure-as-hell were no house symbols to be seen.
I had to make a decision – backtrack to the trail I came down on and risk not making it back to the parking area in time, or forge ahead and try to find a trail, ANY trail that went the direction I wanted to go. I decided to see if the trail I wanted was up near the water towers and went up the road. A few minutes later these tanks loomed above my head, but no trail. Damn! More time wasted!
Just as I was about to give up and head back down to the trail I came out from, I saw a small trail-like track heading just under the tanks and up the hill. Bingo! This MUST be the trail… right? So up I went, confident that even if it wasn’t the correct trail I could bushwhack up to the ridge and pick up the lower Sangra La trail that would get me back.
This would prove to be the decision that would seal my fate that night.
Higher and higher I climbed up that track, soon coming out to an open area that at one time looked like an orchard. I reached the end of the track, and then switched back left to go even higher up the mountain – the trail getting tighter and narrower as I went.
About 10 minutes later, I was up on the hill just waiting to hit the lower Shangra La trail that (according to the map) ran right along the top of the ridgeline. Getting to the top, I did not find the trail as expected. Very strange. I figured that I just did not calculate correctly and plowed ahead, fully expecting to find the trail just past next bush. But, it was not meant to be.
Now, I was up on the ridge, plowing through moderate vegetation, and looking for a “ghost” trail. The only way through all the crap in front of me was to follow the game trails zigzagging through the brush, but eventually even those ran out. I consulted the map again, and thought perhaps if I start to move more to the left (SW) that I may pick up the trail that way. I ended up just getting into the brush even deeper.
Meanwhile, with all the bush-bashing I had been doing, I did not initially notice that my legs and arms had started to hurt. This was from blasting through all the vines, ferns, bramble bushes… and nettles. In fact, it was getting downright uncomfortable. But, stubbornly, I pushed on, thinking I could handle it ok. Besides, how much farther away could the damn trail be? I was bound to hit the trail… ANY trail soon… right?
Stopping for a rest, I decided I needed to call Leesa and let her know that I was having issues, but not to worry. I knew were I was (overall), and that I still thought I had time to reach the truck. All I needed to do was find the trail. She (bless her heart) offered to come and be with the truck so the gate would not be closed. I told her no, that other than being in a little pain I was doing OK and that I would call her as soon as I reached the trail.
After I hung up, she called our friend Brad who lived about 15 minutes away from Cougar Mountain. He volunteered to head up, find the truck, and standby. Brad then called me for directions, radio repeater info (so we could talk on our handhelds instead of cell phones), and asked if he could do anything else. I could not think of anything, and he quickly packed up and headed out.
Checking my GPS, I found I was just under ¾ of a mile from the truck – but still with no trail, on unknown terrain, and in unknown territory with 500’ of elevation gain to go. I HAD to find that damn trail, and I started to push forward as hard as I could.
Later, Leesa called again to check up on me having just left her friends. I must have sounded pretty awful, because she noticed it in my voice. It was the tone of desperation and pain, and there was no hiding it from her. She asked what she could do. I said it might be helpful if she could get to a computer, bring up the SPOT tracking page, and see if she could correlate what she sees on the screen with were a trail might be. She turned around and immediately headed back to her friends house. I stated I was in severe pain, but was still moving forward hoping to find the trail and get out of the sea of underbrush that was easily 6 feet high.
About ten minutes later, I began to notice how dark it had become. By this time my legs and arms were on fire from the stinging nettles, biting bugs, scratching sticker bushes, and God knows what else. I looked down at my legs that were now badly swollen, and I was starting to get a little wobbly. The pain had increased to the point were even my stubbornness was not dousing the waves of anguish. Each step through the chest-high vegetation brought increased pain, but I was determined to continue. I got myself into this, and I will get myself out.
Hoping there was someone nearby on ANY trail, I took out my whistle, plugged my ears (this whistle is VERY loud), and blew it three long times – then listened. Nothing. A second round of blowing and a fair bit of yelling was answered with silence. Not good.
I took a few more steps through the brush and paused - it was then I noticed the shaking.
I had been pushing so hard that I failed to notice my hands were shaking so bad I could not even read the GPS without putting it on the ground. My legs were doing the same, and I then started to feel nauseated. It dawned on me I was starting to have some kind of reaction… to what I did not know, but a reaction nonetheless. Not good……
At what point, one wonders, do you follow the advice you have tried to teach others. I have told people over and over that if you FEEL you are in over your head, then you probably are. If you THINK you need help, then you probably do. And more importantly, don’t WAIT till it is too late to make the decision to seek help. Do it NOW.
With my own words of advice ringing in my ears, I took stock of my situation:
1. I was not “lost,” but did not know how to make it back safely.
2. I was in unfamiliar territory, off trail, and could not see what was in front of me, not to mention what lurked under the brush (such as old mineshafts or drop-offs).
3. It was getting dark.. fast. While I am no stranger to hiking in the dark, this area was not conducive to navigating at night even with lights.
4. I was having some kind of reaction to something – and if it got worse in some way, I did not know how much time I had left.
Bottom line and all things considered, it was time to admit I needed help.. and fast. I stopped moving, made a little clearing next to a tree, and then called Leesa asking her to make the call to 9-1-1 so I could conserve my cell battery in case I needed it later.
It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, since it marked the first time in 100’s of hikes that I could not make it out on my own. I felt embarrassed, defeated, and very alone.
Forcing myself to think through the situation and do the right thing (all I wanted to do is collapse at that point from the pain), I started gathering information 9-1-1 and the SAR team may need like my medical condition, coordinates, equipment carried, communications, etc. I reviewed what I had in my pack that I could use, and started laying out things I might need immediately such as my GPS, cell phone, flashlights, map, and radio. I also made sure that my SPOT was functioning correctly so that Leesa would have the proper coordinates that we could also compare to the GPS unit and make sure they matched.
A few minutes later, Leesa’s friend Cass called back and relayed to me that 9-1-1 wanted me to stop moving (I had), let me know they are on it, and that 9-1-1 would call me directly in a few minutes for more information and to just hang tight. “No problem” I said, adding I was not going anywhere.
In the meantime, I started to bring my amateur radio portable on-line and search for a local repeater that would work. I tried the “511” repeater first since this is the one Search and Rescue would use. No dice, I was hitting the repeater, but was not getting through for some reason. The same thing happened on other local repeaters as well including Tiger Mountain that I was literally line-of-site with. Crap.
I realized that my portable radio - the same one that I carried everywhere while hiking for just such an emergency - was not working properly. The only repeater system I was having any luck with was (go figure) the Cougar Mountain system and that was iffy at best. It is located just on the other side of the mountain from the parking area, but still close enough to get my voice through. It was this channel that radio coordination would have to happen on.
I keyed up an explained the situation to the other amateur radio folks on the channel. Bless them all, because as is traditional for this sort of thing, they cleared the channel and monitored in case I needed anything else.
Meanwhile, Brad called on the cell to get better directions to the parking area. I brought him up to speed and told him to contact Leesa and let her know he was aware of what was happening. Once he knew exactly were I was parked, he headed that way to make sure someone who was aware of what was happening was present and could answer additional questions if needed. What a guy.
Soon after that call I received a call from the 9-1-1 dispatcher. She was very professional and did not make me feel like I was the idiot I felt I was at that moment. She asked some basic questions, and then got down to the business of location. She asked if I had GPS coordinates available. I said “do you want that in LAT/LON or UTM?” She laughed, and said LAT/LON would be preferable. I gave them to her, and she then said to sit tight as things with SAR were rapidly spinning up. I thanked her profusely, and hung up.
By this time it was pitch black out, as the moon had not come up over the mountains. A light breeze ran through the trees, and the woods got very quiet. I figured I would have some water and a little food and see if it would stay down. While the intensity of the pain in my legs and arms was still going full-blast, the nausea has subsided, and I was indeed able to keep it all down (thank God).
I then turned my attention to the next issue: mosquitoes. They were now swarming all over my head in force. I did not know if they were going after my arms and legs as I could not feel them beyond the waves of pain. It occurred to me that I could have pulled out my bivy sack and climbed in, but I was too tired and wanted to be able to move quickly if needed.
I also totally forgot that I carry a bug shield in my pack too – but pain will do that sometimes; fog normal thinking. So instead, I pulled out my bandana, covered my neck and half my head with it, and put my hat back on. This worked pretty well. I could have put on more DEET, but the thought of adding more chemicals to the mix on my body did not sit well, so I passed on it, sat on a large blowdown, and just watched, waited, and listened.
Sometime in this mix, I received a call from someone in SAR on the radio, stating they were working the communications/coordination end of things, and asking for refreshed information, my condition, and current coordinates. I gave him all I had, and he stated teams were on the way but it will be awhile. I thanked him and let him know also I wasn’t going anywhere.
Brad finally made it to the trailhead and called to say he was there. We then tried to see if I could hear his car horn from were I was. I could not, even though the GPS said it was only ¾ of a mile away. I started to question if my GPS was working correctly, but I have come to rely on that unit over the years and it has not steered me wrong yet. Still, not being able to hear that horn was a little disconcerting.
Next we tried to establish direct communications between the radios. While I could hear him a little scratchy, he could not hear me at all. Now I was positive my radio was having issues, and that we would just have make do. We switched back to the Cougar repeater and hoped for the best. Towards the end of the conversation, Brad mention that a King County Deputy Sheriff had just rolled up, and that he was going to brief the officer on what he knew.
About 30 long quiet minutes past, and even though I knew I was supposed to conserve my cell battery, I texted Leesa an “I love you.” It made me feel better, and gave me something to do. A few minutes later Leesa called, and said that even though 9-1-1 told her not to call, that she just had to see how I was doing. I brought her up to speed, and she stated that her and Cass were heading out from her house to Brad’s location up on the mountain since there was not much more they could do there. We hung up, and again I felt utterly alone.
I don’t know how long I sat there listening to the sounds of a million mosquitoes trying to drain me of vital bodily fluids - but I started to realize two things: my legs and arm pain had subsided a little, and the woods were getting lighter. I attribute the lessening of pain to the fact it had been hours since I came into contact with any nasty plants – a good thing. The increased brightness of the woods was caused by an amazing moon-rise over the distant mountains. It was very beautiful, and allowed me to at least see shapes in the woods without a flashlight.
Upon seeing the rise in ambient light, it occurred to me that I should have some light set up so the searchers if need be could see it from a distance. I then hung my primary light from a tree branch and activated one of my backup LED lights (also hung in the tree) and set it to flash – an instant and very effective visual beacon.
Sitting there, watching the light flash, time became a strange thing. I was no longer checking my watch, and didn’t care what time it was, or how long I had waited. It was all very surreal, and my thoughts revolved around all the people I have now inconvenienced and the ruckus I have caused. My emotions ranged from guilt to anger that I was now someone else’s “problem.” It was a little hard to swallow, even though I knew deep down I did the right thing.
Somewhere in that “time fog” the radio crackled to life. The SAR teams were on the ground and wanted to verify my LAT/LON again. I read them off the coordinates and they told me to stay put and call if anything else came up. Since they did not know 100% were I was, or the terrain thereof, they were launching two teams each coming in from a different direction. I was happy about that, and started to wonder from which direction they would come.
After that it got very quiet, and the wait continued. Bugs continued their onslaught on my head and all exposed skin parts. I shuddered to think how I would look the next day – probably like a pin cushion above my shoulders, and like I had been hit with a zillion needles below the knees. Touching the front of my legs, the skin felt dead, like all the sensation had been drained away. My arms on the other hand were doing a little better, and the shaking had subsided considerably.
More time passed, and it dawned on me me that I had not been making any noise. I pulled out my whistle again and gave it three long blows, then listened. Nothing still. I repeated this a few more times with no indication anyone had heard anything. It was very discouraging.
Had I indeed given them the correct coordinates? Signal bounce (where the signal from the satellite bounces of something and then reaches the GPS, giving a false location) happens and is common in the hills and mountains, and with the luck I have been having it would be par for the course this night. But, I have to have faith that it was right, and things would work out in the end.
After what seemed like an eternity sitting on that blowdown, listening past the buzz of the insects, I finally heard what I thought was a far of shout. Judging the distance, it was WAY far off. I decided to just sit tight and see if I hear it again. Maybe three minutes later, I heard another shout and this time it seemed closer. But it was still far enough away that I could not judge the distance or direction. “Well” I thought, “at least I hear something out there.” Taking no chances, I again blew the whistle, and was greeted with silence. “This could take a lot longer if they are looking in the wrong place” I mused.
But, now that I knew they were in the area, I focused all my attention on any noise out of the ordinary. I started hearing far off noise that seemed to be above the normal forest sounds - but again I could not identify them or the direction they came from. Surely they would be yelling or something as they went? I did not know.
Just as I was about to sit back down I heard a glorious sound - a human calling my name about 100’ away! YEEEESSSSSS! I let out a whoop and lit up the forest in their direction with my primary light to guide them in.
It was then I noticed something odd – they walked very easily to with about 50 feet of me and stopped. All I could think of was…. ‘crap, you have GOT to be kidding me.’
“Please tell me you are not standing on the fricken trail right now” I yelled out. They answered (with a little amusement in their voices) “Ok, we won’t tell you.” Holy mama… I was 50 FEET from the trail the whole time. Under my breath I let out a stream of obscenities that would make a career sailor blush. If I had trekked 50 more feet in front of me, I would have hit a trail. Unbelievable.
Regardless, I was VERY happy to see them, and we all had a good chuckle as I gathered my gear and they made sure I was ambulatory. To their extreme credit, they did not make me feel like and idiot either, and upon thanking them profusely, all they would say is “that’s what we are here for.” What a class act these folks are.. really.
It took us about 15 minutes to get down the mountain, ironically, to a point in the housing development near were I started going up. The other team got there first, and we were a close second. When I reached the Command Post area, the officer in charge, with clipboard in hand, walked up to me and said “are you Mark?” I said I was, and with a deadpan voice he said “will that be Visa or Mastercharge.” Everyone laughed, including me, and I knew it was going to be ok. He took some information and they started wrapping up the mission.
I thank everyone there, and found out that they were running another SAR mission over on Tiger Mountain at the same time as mine for a gentleman who had broken his ankle. I said I felt bad that resources had to be drawn from that mission to deal with me. They said it was no big deal since they had more people on the other mission than they could use, and they were already out here anyway. It made sense to me, but it still did not set well.
Turns out one of the people on the second team that went up the other side to reach me I had known for 10 years. So, he volunteered to take me up to Anti-Aircraft Hill to link up with Leesa, Cass, and Brad that had been monitoring the progress on the radio.
It was a long drive up there, and we finally arrived back at my truck about 12:20am. My legs and arms were still on fire, I was tired, hungry, and exhausted, but I was finally out of the woods. After giving well deserved hugs and thanks all around, we convoyed off the mountain and headed home.
*******
That night back home was a rough one. After a rather painful shower, I applied topical Benadryl all over my legs and arms. I would like to say it did the trick, but in reality it did not put a dent in the pain at all. Whatever toxins had been blasted into my skin were not done yet by a long shot. I lay in bed squirming in agony as no position offered any relief.
I tried Dermoplast and Lanacane sprays, wet towels, and anything else I could think of try and deaden the pain to no avail. I would have even tried baking soda paste it we would have had any. Finally, about 4am, I passed out in spite of the pain for a couple of hours before I had to arise and take Leesa to her car she left up at her friends when they drove to the trailhead together.
After dropping Leesa off and calling into work to say I would not be in - I got to the pharmacy and purchased several tubes Hydrocortisone cream. Within an hour of applying that, my arms and legs felt very much better, to the point I could finally sleep… thank God.
******
It was not until the next morning that most of the pain had gone away. As I sit here and write this on Thursday night, it still itches somewhat, but even that is quickly going away. I am just thankful that whatever I came into contact with did not do more harm or damage than it did.
Upon downloading the GPS track, and looking carefully over the maps, it become very apparent what had happened. The trail I was supposed to find up on the ridge no longer exists. When they built the housing tracts (that are still under construction), they took it out and re-routed all the trails to different starting points along the edge of the development. They are now no longer connected in a continuous way, and the signage they have (or lack thereof in places) did not show the new entry points. In short, the lower section of Shangra La trail is now gone – the very trail I was trying to reach. What I ended up 50 feet from was the “No Name Trail” that connects to Shangra La on both ends that used to make a large loop.
The map I was using was a Green Trails special version of the park and surrounding areas dated 2004. Ironically, the map that King County has on-line now for Cougar does not show the changes either, and is two years out of date.
But, I don’t blame the maps, or the housing development, or anything else for that matter for getting me into that predicament. The blame rests solely with me.
I should have turned around when I had the chance instead of stubbornly forging ahead. And, while I was fully prepared to be out in the woods overnight if necessary, being a little late back to the truck would have been preferable to that or any SAR mission in my honor.
The bottom line is this: no matter how experienced you are, and no matter how prepared you are, things can go wrong even in your own backyard. Learn from this, educate yourself, and go out prepared. It may not help to stop a bad situation from happening, but you will be better prepared if it does.
******
I would like to thank my friends who selflessly came to my aid that night – I could not ask for any better. While not a life-or-death situation, it was nice to know someone was on the other end of the radio and phone I knew. Thanks guys.
Finally, I would like to offer a sincere THANK YOU to the men and women of the emergency services – be it the 9-1-1 operators, the police, or the volunteers who go out and give so much of themselves without compensation or the expectation of gratitude – you are the best there is. I am humbled by your dedication and service, and hope that the Man upstairs always watches over you while you are putting yourselves on the line for others. Again, please accept my sincere gratitude.
