05/27/2026
Good Samaritans
Sitting in a small cafe in Yosemite Village, down in the famous and glorious Yosemite Valley, I find that I have a strong cellular signal. So while I munch my muffin and drink my dark roast coffee, I will tell you about one of the adventures I had here at this amazing National Park.
Last Friday, 22 May, was my first full day in Yosemite. I had arrived the previous afternoon, and by the time I set up camp, the day was waning, so I didn't have time for more than a little scouting around to get my bearings and begin to understand where I was. On Friday morning, then, I was up before dawn and eagerly went into the Valley to explore. I hiked around some gentle trails, viewed waterfalls and Half Dome (from below), and wandered the eastern portion of the Valley. In all, I walked about 3 miles in the morning.
Having had only a breakfast bar and water when I got up, I then stopped in a cafeteria and had brunch. It was a relatively hearty meal, eggs, bacon, croissant, coffee, and it filled my empty. Then I went back to camp to change clothes (morning had been quite cool, but the day was warming) and fritter around the campsite briefly. And then I headed toward my primary goal for the day, the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, which is in a far northeast part of Yosemite—far enough away that you actually leave the park, drive awhile in the Stanislaus National Forest, then re-enter Yosemite again. From my camp, the drive takes about an hour. Because I'd had brunch at 10:30am, I didn't feel hungry, so I skipped lunch. [This is known as foreshadowing.]
I planned to hike a portion of the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir trail, from the dam at the base of the reservoir out to Wapama Falls. I arrived at the location, walked across the dam, and through a dark, wet tunnel to begin the hike. The trail is not steep (apart from a few short portions that are rock steps to climb up) but it is, for basically the entire 2½ miles to Wapama Falls, a continuous upward grade. I do very well on level ground, but the exertion of climbing tends to make me winded. I stopped often, to catch my breath, take in the scenery, and capture an occasional photo, like the one here, which I took when I was getting quite near the falls. I also paused a couple times to drink water. Did I mention I had not bothered to eat lunch?
I reached the falls feeling good. I stood with my back against the rockface, leaning and breathing heavily. Then I started to get dizzy, and then I felt myself sliding down the face of the rough rock, and things went black. Next thing I became aware of was someone helping me down to the ground and talking to me, asking if I was alright.
The two people helping me were (I eventually found out) Bob and Marnie. (I omit their last name out of respect for their privacy.) In the next hour or 90 minutes, we got to know each other—at least, I remember babbling much of my life's story, whether they wanted it or not. They fed me snacks, and water with electrolyte supplement, and took care of me while I was weak and shaky and rather out of it. Other people also contributed snacks and helped nurse me. Bob & Marnie had also dispatched a hiker who was returning to the parking lot to notify the National Park Service rescue squad about me, and ask them to come and assist.
Gradually, my strength and my senses returned, and as the afternoon waned into evening, I realized that all of us had 2½ miles to hike back, and we didn't want to be doing it in the dark. I assured Bob I was strong enough to start the trek, and he (though still skeptical about my ability to make the hike) agreed that we should get started. Holding my belt, Bob walked behind/beside me, ready to support me if I should faint. I felt much better, and we made slow but steady progress. After perhaps a mile, the NPS rescuers arrived, a team of three: Brandon, Riley, and Veronica. They accepted custody of me so Bob and Marnie could continue on their own, at a more rapid pace.
We resumed the hike, and I felt just fine. We stopped a couple times to rest (which the young, fit park rangers did not need), but I completed the hike out to the parking lot under my own power, and was not even especially tired or winded when we got there. (The hike back was mostly downhill.) At the waiting ambulance a paramedic took all my vitals, and even did a field ECG, all of which showed I was fine. Per their protocol, he also called an M.D. at a nearby hospital and went over the situation, I talked to the doctor, and they declared me fit.
I drove back to camp, had a snack with more water, and got a good night's sleep. That was four days ago, and I have felt fine ever since, with no lingering after effects or even any undue fatigue. The next day (Saturday) I felt it would be wise not to do anything strenuous, and I made darn sure I ate three good, filling, hearty meals (with protein bars and electrolyte supplements in between). Sunday I resumed my usual activities, although I only made a couple of short hikes. Sunday afternoon, while on one of those short hikes, I got caught in a thunderstorm which turned into a ferocious hailstorm, but that is an adventure for another post; this one is already way too long.
Good Samaritans have helped me many times in life: when I had a flat tire or car trouble in the days before cell phones; when my car skidded off the road in a snowstorm; other times I needed a hand. I believe most people are good-hearted, and will lend a hand, but some people—Bob and Marnie, from Olympia, Washington—are exceptionally kind, and will go far out of their way, interrupt their own lives and plans, to help someone in distress. I have often said that my life has been blessed with good family and friends, but I have also been blessed to encounter strangers who treat me as a friend. I will never be able to repay these people for their help in my time of need. But I can say thank you: you will always have my gratitude, and a special place in my memory.
