True Tales

It was our third year of a father/son camping trip. Sat Sangeet was six years-old and we were venturing farther from home than the previous two trips which were in the Angeles Crest Forest, only a few miles from Los Angeles. This time we were going up north to the Sierra’s, to Tioga Pass, the highest paved passage over the Sierra’s at over 9000 feet. We loaded up our Toyota pick-up we had named “Ralph” (just where that name came from escapes me now) with our new 2-man domed tent, sleeping bags, cooking utensils, gas stove and food which included mung beans and rice, buckwheat pancake mix, Wha Guru Chews, and some of those not-so-yummy freeze dried dinners.

We waved good-by to Mata Ji standing on the steps of Guru’s House on Preuss Road and hit the freeway, heading north on our six hour journey. It was mid-summer and we drove with the windows down, playing Michael Jackson tapes mixed with Gurbani Kirtan. It was my habit to pretty much “wing it” when it came to finding a camp spot, though Sat Sangeet and I had agreed we wanted to get high up in elevation so we could possibly see some snow this time. When we got to Tioga Pass we pulled into a campground next to a small high mountain lake, parked the truck, walked in about 200 yards and pitched our tent. By that time it was pretty late so after getting everything set up we crashed in our warm sleeping bags, breathing deeply the sweet smell of the mountain air.

The next morning we did our usual ritual of making flapjacks over an open fire, smothering them with maple syrup and sipping our yogi tea for breakfast. Even now, 25 years later we both still revel in the challenge of making a perfectly round pancake in the adverse conditions of the small frying pan and the miniscule “flipper” needed to accomplish the feat. After cleaning up from breakfast we prepared for our big adventure for the day, which was a hike up to the patch of snow I spotted on a peak above the campsite. Sat Sangeet had grown up in Los Angeles and had little exposure to snow, so this was an exciting proposition. We put water and snacks in our backpacks and set out on the trail. This is where the story really begins….

We started out full of energy and anticipation to get to the snow, but because of the depth perception in the thin mountain air it seemed that even though we kept hiking, the snow patch we were trying to reach kept retreating further and further. For a little six year-old this can dampen the enthusiasm pretty quickly. The terrain was getting much rougher to navigate as we were above the tree line, where there were many gullies, large boulders and a few places where the trail disappeared altogether. We kept walking and walking and soon we came upon a small lake where we stopped for a break because Sat Sangeet, in spite of being a pretty good hiker, was getting tired up in that thin air. Along the way, whenever he would complain or want to go back, I’d point up at the patch of white and re-inspire him by saying, “Look up there. We’re almost to the snow.” As we went higher and higher there was less vegetation and wildlife, even though we did see bear scat here and there, which I pointed out to Sat Sangeet.

We hiked on past the lake for another 45-minutes or so and at this point, after being on the trail for a couple of hours, Sat Sangeet pretty much decided he wasn’t going to go on anymore and wanted to go back to the camp, but I was determined to get up to the snow. I figured it was only a few minutes more up and then back to where we were, so I told him to stay right there on this large rock and I’d go up and bring him back some snow in my backpack. I took off and was back in about twenty minutes, but when I returned Sat Sangeet was nowhere to be found. Initially I was reasonably calm as I thought if I just called him he would be within shouting range. I figured he might have just crawled a few feet away and fallen asleep. My hope diminished moment by moment when he didn’t respond to my calls and I didn’t see any trace of him nearby or see him in the distance. I began to retrace my steps and looked, without success, for his small footprints.

It was beginning to get dark and I started to consider that I would have to alert someone at the Forest Service and that meant going down to our campsite as quickly as possible and driving to the station back at the turn-off to the campground, some fifteen miles away. As I passed the lake where we had stopped for a break I spoke with two hikers who had been there since we had left. I figured they might have seen him, but they had not seen him at all. I was really getting concerned now, especially when I remembered the signs of bear we had seen earlier on the trail. I kept heading down the mountain, getting closer and closer to our campground, all the while plotting my next move and how in the hell I was going to explain this all to my wife—that I had lost our only child in the woods.

When I was about 200 yards from the campsite I could see the tent and was hoping beyond hope that I would see some sign of Sat Sangeet around the tent, but all I saw was the tent all zipped up like we had left it. When I got there I unzipped the tent I was shocked when Sat Sangeet’s cheery little face popped up.

“What happened? Why didn’t you wait at the rock like I told you to?”
Sat Sangeet looked up at me and said, “I just got tired of waiting and started to walk.”

“How did you get back here to the tent?” I really couldn’t imagine how he had gotten there all by himself, down that mountain, over that patchy trail in the fading light of day.

He looked at me, the way kids do, and said very matter-of-factly, “I just chanted to Guru Ram Das and he showed me the way.”

When I found him safe and not eaten by a bear and knew there would be no search party combing the mountains for him that night it was a tremendous relief. What happened on that day was another dramatic validation to me of the power of Guru Ram Das to protect and guide us in any circumstance or peril. Sat Sangeet and I still camp every year together and we have gone back to the Sierras many times as it is one of our favorite areas. These trips we take every year together are a special time for us both to share our love of the outdoors. We often sit around the fire at night and reminisce about our adventures, with the “Guru Ram Das story” being one of the favorites and definitely more death-defying than most.  

Postcard of Lee Vining Canyon in Tioga Pass. I didn’t have a camera on the trip and wanted some kind of visual to remind me of the experience.

Back side of the postcard where I made a note about the adventure.

This picture and the next one were taken the year before on our second camping trip.

Just this past year up in the Cascades at Three Creeks Lake.