POV: You're finishing up a rather grueling hike on the tallest mountain in Los Angeles County. You're enjoying the peaceful sounds of Mother Nature until a woman hysterically runs past you screaming, "I ALMOST DIED ON THIS TRAIL!"
The year is 2019. It's mid-May. I just turned 29 and I am training for my first ultra marathon. It is a 50k trail race in the Angeles National Forest with a lot of vertical gain. As part of my training, I challenge myself to summit the tallest peak in Los Angeles County - Mount Baldy. Also known as Mount San Antonio.
I get to the parking lot at Manker Flats trailhead and notice the temperature is dramatically cooler than it was by my home in Marina Del Rey. Thankfully, I have a windbreaker in the back of my car and can use my buff as a head warmer. I also have a pair of shitty gloves. I throw on my hydration vest with its 1.5 liters of water and begin the 3 mile hike up to the "Top of the Notch" - a restaurant at the top of the Baldy ski lifts.
The air is thin and I'm huffing and puffing. I'm extremely cold but the view is out of this world incredible. I make it up to the Notch and check the AllTrails app to see where I go from there. I pick up the trail and head up a steep shoot of loose rocks (what I now know as "scree"). I get to the top and assess the situation knowing I still have at least 2 more miles ahead of me before getting to the summit. Then it's 4 miles down to the trailhead.
I take into account that I am moving much slower than expected. Also, the dropping temperatures and dark clouds forming in front of me... I have to be honest with myself. I am not prepared for this.
So, I take a few photos for the 'gram and run back down the way I came. Chalking it up to a lesson learned, I promise myself that the next time I come back I will be prepared and finally bag the summit.
It began to flurry as I drove away from the trailhead. I took it as a sign that I made the right choice by aborting mission and going home.
ONE WEEK LATER.
It's Memorial Day Weekend and I am visiting my friend Liz for a couple days up in Monterey. Instead of staying Sunday night, I am driving back to LA so I can beat the MDW traffic and make my second attempt at summiting Mount Baldy.
Liz knew I was training for a big run and understood my fixation on getting in my training. (In hindsight, I am now realizing she may have been the only person who knew of my plans that fateful day).
The race is 5 weeks out and summiting this mountain is going to be a test of my readiness.
Monday morning I am greeted with wonderful news! My older sister is pregnant! We talk on the phone for hours. I lose track of time with all the excitement and realize I need to get on the road.
By the time I get to the trailhead it's nearly 2pm. I have a therapy appointment back in Marina Del Rey at 7pm. If I do this 10 mile loop in 3-3.5 hours, I should make it back in time for the appointment.
I don't tell anyone I am attempting to summit Mount Baldy again. No one knows because I don't want to share it until I actually make it to the peak. The feeling of fulfillment that will come with knowing that I did this alone is already gratifying to my ego. I let those feelings carry me up to the Notch and onwards to the Devils Backbone.
The trail is covered in snow - a winter wonderland. The sky is clear and blue because I am above the clouds! I can't believe what I'm seeing. Is this heaven?!
I am careful not to slip while running up the Devils Backbone but it's impossible to be truly aware of how steep the drops on each side are when the clouds are covering everything.
Ignorance is bliss.
I get to the top of the summit and take a photo by the Mount Baldy plaque/sign before beginning my way back down. I realize that I am very behind schedule and I need to get down from the summit ASAP if I want to make my therapy appointment.
AllTrails shows a trail that is invisible to me due to the snow. I figure that if I just keep going straight that I will eventually find the trail but two people coming up stop me and redirect me in the direction I need to go. I thank them and start to head down to the Baldy Bowl and Ski Hut Trail.
(It turns out that this hike is best done clockwise because finding the Ski Hut Trail from the summit of Mount Baldy is pretty difficult, especially at this time of the year).
I take a look at my phone and notice the battery is dying. It's at less than 10% and I still have 4 miles to go. I put it away to save the battery and won't take it out again unless I absolutely need the map.
After twenty-five minutes of hiking down a sketchy snow-covered trail, I fall on my ass and slide into a pile of huge rocks. I nearly knock the wind out of me and injure my right shoulder. I take out my phone - now at 6% - and see that I am off the trail.
I try to climb back up but I am unable to get a good grip on anything. I feel like I am sinking into the dirt the more I try to move around. I hear a stream below me. It must be the stream that leads to the waterfall at the trailhead. I start to follow the sound of running water until I realize that following this leads to a massive drop off the side of a cliff.
Now I'm 10 meters further down the canyon and I can't get back up.
The sun is setting.
My phone is dying.
No one is out here.
No one knows I'm here.
I don't have enough food.
I don't have warm clothes for the night.
I start screaming for help... But no one hears me.
I look up at the trees surrounding me and the walls of the canyon, which the sun is quickly dipping behind. I feel helpless.
I think about the mistake I made by not telling anyone what I was doing. How selfish and stupid that was of me. A decision led by ego.
I think about the irony in coming back here a second time thinking I was prepared when I clearly was not.
And then I think about survival.
My brain quickly scans over my surroundings and takes inventory of what I have on me.
Water I can get from the stream close by. So that's good.
What about food? I'm down to a Honey Stinger waffle, a Gu packet and half a pack of Honey Stinger chews.
Everything is energy at this point. Every sound and every move I make has to be done intentionally. If it isn't guaranteed to help me survive, then I cannot risk it. It's best I shelter in place and stay quiet until sunrise when more hikers will be on the trail.
I accept my fate and succumb to the wrath of Mother Nature. I suddenly realize how easy it is to become a statistic on this mountain. Any mountain.
Then I change my mind.
I am not spending a night on this fucking mountain.
I take out my phone knowing that using up the battery life to get me back on the trail is pointless if I'm still left in the dark... but at least I'd be on the trail. So my mind rationalizes it and I pull up AllTrails.
The trail is right above me. I cannot get to it by hiking up the canyon. The ground is too loose. I have to climb up the side of the canyon. So I start grabbing onto tree roots and bush branches.
I pull myself up despite not knowing if the trail is even there. "I could be exerting all this energy for nothing", I think to myself. "I'll really injure myself if I slip".
But I know I have to keep grabbing and pulling. I am talking out loud to myself as the adrenaline rushes through me. I feel zero pain in my shoulder as I use my two hands to leverage myself over the ledge and back onto the trail.
I MAKE IT TO THE TRAIL!!
There is still a little bit of sunlight left so I take advantage and begin FLYING out of here.
I'm crying. Snot dripping down my face. All I want is to get the fuck off this mountain.
I see another hiker!! He is startled by me as I run past him hysterically screaming. But, damn, does it give me a sense of relief knowing that there is another human on the trail!
I get back to trailhead and take out my phone. It has been over an hour since it was at 6%. Usually iPhones die by now but mine was only at 4%. I had enough battery life to quickly document myself in this moment of terror and amazement (which you can watch in the video below).
I realize I survived something that was fucking terrifying and traumatic. I survived it by relying on nothing but survival instincts and intuition.
I missed my therapy appointment that night but my therapist was very understanding. I contacted her as soon as I got off the mountain and back into service. She helped me process a bit of the experience on the phone and we worked through it in our next session.
It turns out that I made a mistake that many people - even seasoned hikers - make when summiting this mountain. It's not uncommon for hikers going counter-clockwise to end up in Goode Canyon because the dirt between the boulders in the Baldy Bowl can be easily mistaken for the trail. It's not until hikers are deep in the canyon, like I was, that they realize they are lost.
While doing research on where I ended up, and what I did wrong, I felt extremely lucky for getting out of there without having to be rescued. There was a press release for every search and rescue (SAR) mission that has taken place in that area. It would have been really embarrassing to have been the subject of one of those.
(Remember my idea about following the stream? Well, a dude had the same idea and it ended up making it harder for the SAR personnel to get to him).
Because I was alone in this experience, I could have locked it away in my memory and never mention it ever happening. I could have just posted my summit photos and acted as though I made it without an issue. Use it as a way to prove my fearlessness and that I was ready for the upcoming trail race in the mountains...
But I was traumatized. It was a month before I went on a trail again.
What happened to me is a scenario that I feel could happen to anyone. It's not until you're in it when you're finally realizing that Mother Nature doesn't give a fuck about who you are or what obligations you have. This wasn't just a lesson in survival and wilderness prep but a lesson in not being led by ego.
Today, I am comfortable running Mount Baldy in the dark with friends, or by myself. I have summited the mountain handful of times and can navigate it like the back of my hand. I am prepared when I go out there and I always make sure to tell someone when I do.
"Mother Nature is so unforgiving to those that underestimate her power".
- Talia Landman as she ugly cried her way back to her car after getting lost on Mount Baldy. May 27, 2019 | 7:23 pm PST
I am running Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim across the Grand Canyon (~50 miles) & raising money for Lili’s fight against a rare form of Stage IV Ovarian Cancer. PLEASE DONATE!!
This is being done in memory of my father who passed away from cancer on March 8, 2021.
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