(Note: this is an absolutely true account of our Mount Baldy Hike of December 18, 1999.)

Nick: As we left things last week, Joe and I were nearing the top of what we hoped was Baldy mountain. The sun was setting, Joe’s girlfriend Kari was calling the police, Chris Ross and Rich Park were preparing a rescue mission, and we were on the brink of collapse. Our eighth hour of hiking had come and gone and we were still lost on the wrong side of Baldy. After having played our "tree-hopping" game for nearly an hour, Joe and I were finally nearing the top. Sucking it up for one last push, we scrambled our way up to the crest and looked out over the valley just as the last traces of sunlight faded.

Joe: To the West we could see the sun setting over Los Angeles. For a moment we paused and looked out at the spectacular view, both awestruck by its beauty and fearful of the black night soon to follow. We both knew that there was absolutely no turning back now. At this elevation we would freeze to death if we tried to spend the night and so we had to hope that in the remaining twilight we could make our way to the peak and find our way out.

Nick: The hiking had gotten a lot easier up on the ridge. Feeling a second wave of energy, I was walking a bit ahead of Joe. After a couple of minutes, I noticed a rut in the rocky crust of the mountain. Following it for a for a few seconds, I became convinced that it was a little-used trail. I turned back to tell the good news to Joe only to hear him mutter, "Another one of your goddamn water runoffs."

Joe: I watched Nick with scorn as he walked back and forth on another one of his make-believe trails. "No, really Joe, I think this is the real thing!" A split second later, a portion of his "trail" was illuminated by the moonlight and I realized that he was right! After a short dance of joy, we began skipping along the trail like the Scarecrow and the Tin Man and soon we were at the peak of what we believed to be Baldy. I looked around and noticed the metallic glimmer of a familiar sign, which read: ‘Mt. Baldy: 10,086 ft.’ We were back. It was the scene of our original folly. And now we had a second chance to make our way out.

Nick: Being back to the top of Baldy gave us both a temporary sense of euphoria. We knew that we were going to get out that night. The trail that we had been following continued down with a sign that said "Baldy Village." We both realized that this was probably not the way we had come up, but were too tired and happy to be on any trail to bother looking around in the dark. What should have been a two hour walk down to our car at the Falls turned into a four hour trudge to Baldy Lodge.

There’s not too much to say about the walk out except that it was painful. Our temporary high quickly wore off as we took turns being "trial spotter" to make sure we didn’t stumble off in the dark and get lost for a second time that day. The only part of that march that really still stands out in my mind was when the trail hit a small paved road. Wincing from the light of the street lamps, I lay down on the cool, rough concrete. I was so happy and delirious I made a snow angel patterns on the ground until I realized that there was no snow and we were in the middle of somebody’s driveway. I felt pretty stupid until I looked over to see Joe having some private time with the concrete himself, passionately kissing the street a few feet away.

The moment passed and we decided we should leave.

Joe: We both seemed to float along the street, greeting every house, car and other man-made structure with a smile. After about a quarter of a mile, a stone church came into view and it seemed to be saying, "Go forth, my sons, and eat to your hearts’ content." Just beyond the church, the neon sign of Mount Baldy Lodge and the tantalizing smells of grilled delights beckoned our re-entry into civilization. Bartlett headed into the bar to order everything on the menu for us (including a few stiff drinks), while I hung back to take care of matters on the pay phone outside.

Nick: I entered Baldy Lodge with wide eyes and a growling stomach, scarcely aware that the entire clientele had turned to look at the crazy-eyed, bleeding, shaking wrecks that had limped up to the porch. Not waiting for a waiter or even a menu, I walked up to the bar and asked for something hot and filling. The barman informed me that the grill closed at 10. I looked down at my watch and realized we were ten minutes late. If only we hadn’t been distracted by the driveway! I ordered lemonade for myself, not allowing the barman to leave until I had downed four straight glasses. My thirst quenched, I went about looking to get Joe and I a ride back to our car.

Joe: As I made call after call, I realized how far the news of our foolishness had traveled. Mom sounded as if she had lost a few years from her life and Dad told me that in the last few hours he had taken up smoking again. As I was doing my best to calm Kari’s emotions, Nick came out and reported that the mountain was having one last laugh by closing the kitchen early, but he did manage to find us a ride back to our car from an upstanding local citizen.

Nick: The only person that had been willing to give us a ride was this really friendly guy who had been sitting by himself at the bar. He checked out with a $40 bar bill. I got into the front seat of his truck, thinking it would be just the three of us until he informed me that an acquaintance from the bar was coming too. Joe and I piled into the back and settled in for an interesting ride. As he noticeably swerved back and forth through the poorly lit switchbacks of Mount Baldy, our friendly driven was making some earnest conversation with his lady friend. We don’t have time to reproduce the full dialogue here but our favorite pick up line of the trip was, "Have you ever seen the inside of my house before?…Well, you need to soon." Joe and I sat in the back, trying not to laugh while at the same time being very scared.

Joe: As our driver was crossing the center-line more times than a two year-old with a coloring book, I started to long for the feeling of having my mortality in my own hands. To make the ride even more enjoyable, our drunken chauffeur began playing tour guide after his failed attempt at romance. "You see that there tree. It’s called Wedding Tree. But I call it Death Tree ever since four of my friends crashed into it and died and last summer." The Blair Witch in the passenger seat decided to do some uninvited sharing as well. "I’ve lived up here all my life. I always knew that I was going to die early, but I wasn’t sure if it would be from my abusive ex-husband or from… well… let’s just say that I’ve seen some things up here that people are not supposed to see." FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET ME OFF THIS MOUNTAIN!!

Nick: They dropped us off and at last we were safely reunited with Joe’s Nova. Just after passing the "Death Tree" on the way down, we noticed flashing lights behind us and pulled over. One of Baldy’s best came up to the car. His first words were to Joe, "So, you missed your flight, huh?" As the cop filled out the missing persons report, I asked why my parents hadn’t been called. He answered my question with scorn, saying it wasn’t worth bothering for a "flat-country easterner." Just as he was leaving, Chris Ross and Richard Park pulled up. They had just returned from an hour-long "rescue mission." After the happy reunion we followed them off of that godforsaken mountain.

Joe: Arriving in the safe confines of Lawry Court, we were greeted by Kari with an emotional embrace and a grand InNOut feast. I threw off my shoes and blood-soaked socks and buried my face in animal style bliss. Our terrible experience was over and we had survived.

Nick: The next morning, after saying a goodbye, finishing up the final chapter of my thesis, and getting absolutely no sleep, I was in the St. Louis airport on my way to a job interview in London. I asked a flight attendant for some iodine and was busy cleaning up in an airport sink. Staring at my raw, bleeding hands, a traveler at the sink next to me flashed a smile and asked, "Have problems booking a flight?" I didn’t laugh. Back on the plane on the way to London, the Baldy experience was still fresh in my mind. I sat back in my seat and turned on my TV console, ready to forget the events of last 24 hours with a fun movie. I started laughing to myself as I recognized the what was on the screen. The Blair Witch Project.

Joe: The next morning as I awaited my flight to Portland in the airport Applebee’s, I tried to make sense of everything that had happened on the horrendous day before. I thought about our mistakes, and I thought about our victories, and I wondered exactly what I had learned. After finishing my eggs I looked at the memorabilia on the wall next to me, and a small engraved plate caught my eye. It read: "He who hesitates is not only lost, but miles from the exit."