Deadliest Shortcut (eBook)

Lee Bergthold (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2022 | 1. Auflage
480 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-3485-6 (ISBN)

Infos

Lee Bergthold and three companions set out to retrace the infamous Hastings Cutoff. They trekked cross-country with backpacking gear on foot and with excerpts of crude maps to guide their way: Donner Springs, Utah, and westward to Battle Mountain, Nevada. This is a true account how four intrepid hikers sought out what might remain of the original Hastings Cutoff, a 350-mile, 35-day sojourn that would be an exploration of a portion of the Donner Party route-east to west-that the Donner's traveled. Experience the personal vulnerability and angst of being in a strange land as you discover a Donner Party wilderness. You begin to experience the hardship, which becomes survival.

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Lee Bergthold and three companions set out to retrace the infamous Hastings Cutoff. They trekked cross-country with backpacking gear on foot and with excerpts of crude maps to guide their way: Donner Springs, Utah, and westward to Battle Mountain, Nevada. This is a true account how four intrepid hikers sought out what might remain of the original Hastings Cutoff, a 350-mile, 35-day sojourn that would be an exploration of a portion of the Donner Party route-east to west-that the Donner's traveled. Survival techniques were initiated by Bergthold (former Marine Corps) which united the group into a cohesive unit. The narrative addresses a no-holds-barred account of what it's like to 'feel abandoned' on a harsh mostly uninhabited environment. Periodic humor was interjected throughout the trek to stave off days of isolation and loneliness which can create a sense of desperation. Bergthold's narrative is authoritative and bears out his years of experience in trekking (on foot) following the various survival routes the Donner's could have taken or at least considered. The reader follows along vicariously and experiences unsuspecting trials of desert/mountain exploration. The reader suddenly experiences the personal vulnerability, and angst of being in a strange land. You discover a Donner Party wilderness; you begin to experience the hardship, which becomes survival.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 1

The Great Salt Lake Desert

“Utah!” Phil William’s announcement had a strange and ominous ring to it. As unnerving as his middle of the night driving, I still relished the comfort of a vehicle, hot and/ or cold air, a padded seat, and the fact that, for once, I was a passenger in an up-dated motorized vehicle instead of working, hiking, or trekking during which most of the time I felt the mission at hand would never end.

The sun was up bright and the early day was spreading its month of May warmth. From the comfort of the vehicle, I slowly began to awaken; my view through the side window became crystal clear as I scanned the landscape that lay before us, and why should it be any different than all the other treks? It was desert, nothing but desert, no different than northern Nevada’s Humboldt River Basin, no different than Death Valley’s cracker-like bogs, no different than the fetid Salton Sea Playa, just more desert, the mighty Southwest of America’s dry lands. From my perspective, I was looking out toward the north and slightly east. There it was again, more desert, but this time it was the Great Salt Lake Desert, and beyond. Out of sight lay the imposing Great Salt Lake itself. It wasn’t within viewing distance, but I knew it was there. I also knew that that great body of water had been a significant crossing point for the thousands of early pioneers who had migrated from east to west in the mid-1800’s.

As leader of our group, what was I getting my comrades into that they hadn’t already been exposed to? My most experienced partner would be that of Christine ‘Tina’ Bowers (hereafter referred to as Tina) who had worked with me for the past 20 years or so; summer 10-20 day forays; long haul treks: Battle Mountain to the northern boundary of Death Valley, and then on to the Salton Sea. From subzero conditions to blazing hot; Tina was tough and had paid her dues many times over: superbly conditioned, mentally tough, EMT1 trained, plus all the additional training I had offered through my own survival training sessions (CWS-Center for Wilderness Studies).

Al Caler was of equal value in his own way. An experienced Alaskan/Yukon veteran trekker, plus extended long-haul time on the Salton Sea trek; he was physically, and mentally fit plus being meticulously detailed in geo mapping our way through uncharted territory, whereas Tina simply put one foot in front of the other, never questioned where we were or where we were headed? She simply heft her loaded pack and headed on. Al was more detailed and plodded along determined to complete the mission; hot, cold, maybe no water2.

Water would always be of major concern: desert country and water are practically synonymous. Not a concern on a cool May morning, but once you leave your support system behind, you quickly find yourself vulnerable to the elements. This mindset begins to permeate the individual’s survival instincts. Is one prepared for such an eventuality? No water in the desert?

Connie Simpkins was of concern. She was physically fit but didn’t have the proven long-haul mental capacity experience that’s required for days on end working under questionable conditions. In other words, she wasn’t tested, whereas Tina and Al had at least 20 years’ experience each, having worked with me in demanding, high-risk situations and being able to withstand the emotional rigors of tedious isolation.

After my 60 plus years of backcountry experience and being witness to the few candidates who wished to experience ‘survival,’ too many so-called applicants—even after all the training and testing that I insisted on—many (male and female, all ages) failed when thrust into the throes of ‘non-civilization.’ For the most part, it was the mental stress and the pangs of ‘non-comfort zone’ that most of our populace are not prepared for.

Years ago, individuals were much tougher-minded compared to the younger generations of today who’ve been born into lives of comfort and convenience. Nonetheless, Connie Simpkins insisted that ‘she could do it.’ How many times had I heard such a declaration only to have such individuals quit even after one day or night.

But it was Connie who had volunteered our driver, Phil Williams, and that was such an unexpected and welcome bonus; a driver, with vehicle plus a trailer to transport our intrepid crew, in addition to all our gear, to the outskirts of the Great Salt Lake Desert.

Within seconds, I was suddenly pulled back into stark reality; my daydreaming was put on hold when Phil Williams suddenly blurted out. “Hey, we’re in Utah!”

Our close-knit group: myself, Tina, Al, Connie, and at the helm, Phil Williams, along with his vehicle plus trailer, with all our supply, had traveled roughly half-a-day plus a full night, west to east, mostly along cross-state Highway 80—California, Nevada—finally pulling off onto a dirt spur of a small turnout just barely across the Nevada/ Utah border just north of Wendover, Utah. West Wendover was still on the Nevada side, the other single-named ‘Wendover’ on the Utah side, roughly 5-10 miles south of us.

Phil Williams couldn’t go any farther. We, all of us, were at the end of the line—no more road, and what lay ahead? Just plain desert. Williams had done his job, and regardless of the swerving and the occasional jolting, our appreciation of Phil Williams was truly sincere.

Even with the excitement of our arriving at our drop-off point, Williams was anxious to get us unloaded so he could return to California. The remaining four of us would be left at that small turnout to fend for ourselves for a month or so. Such a thought suddenly brought urgency to the mission at hand. The four of us would work our way back to Battle Mountain, Nevada, hopefully, in 35 days and would cover roughly 300-350 miles trekking on foot carrying our regular gear, plus start-out water. In addition, we’d be packing our first 10-day supply of food. It would be up to us in obtaining additional water such as rain puddles, frost, creeks, etc.

With that in mind, our priorities were suddenly transformed: water-desert, water-desert, fending for ourselves, 35 days, 350 miles, trekking on foot; Williams leaving us alone, no civilization, even Wendover, Utah was miles away.

We’d set our sights northward, toward Donner Springs, maybe 20 miles or so and what after that? It’s the ‘unknown’ that spurs individuals forward, to investigate, to explore, to find out what it’s all about, maybe curiosity. That’s the mindset that hopefully prepares the uninitiated. Much like the hard-core realities that military personnel are trained for: it’s called survival. In that regard, I wasn’t so much worried about Tina and Al, but what about Connie—yes, to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere, we’d start thinking about that.

With never-ending instructions, Williams directed us on how to unload the trailer. His system was the same as when we had loaded up hours earlier since there was a definite step-by-step procedure on how to balance the trailer. His buzz-word was ‘fulcrum.’ It was important that the trailer, any trailer in fact, be properly ‘balanced.’ It was similar to that of a teeter-totter or a see-saw, there’s a balance tipping point that one must be aware of.

Al Caler was the last man in the trailer passing out gear to the rest of us. Williams was directing Al as to where and how to move the last pack. Suddenly, the trailer tipped upward causing the rear end of the trailer to come crashing down against the dirt roadway just barely missing those of us standing near the tail end. Everyone was okay, including Al, but it was a wake-up call for all of us. Always be alert, expect the unexpected, and how many times had I stressed such an eventuality? And Phil, at the helm, literally at the tongue-end of the trailer was also unscathed, but a bit miffed that the trailer had actually become unhitched. Phil jumped back blurting out, “fulcrum, fulcrum!” and to think we’d traveled many miles with the possibility of an unhitched trailer-tongue hook-up. Still, no complaints. We’d made it okay thus far, plus all our gear.

For the next few hours, we began the chore of packing our belongings—our most important items crucial for our very existence— which would then be stuffed into or strapped onto our backpacks which would then be slung onto our backsides. All food stuffs would be equally divided amongst the four of us; each individual carrying segmental portions that would be doled out as certain meals would coincide with a pre-planned menu-calendar. It’s a system that guarantees equal distribution: equal weight, equal portions, nothing wasted, no priority amounts. We’d follow the delegated meal-plan, which in turn would begin to create a cohesive unit amongst the four of us. We’d eat, sleep and work as a unit.3

Each of us would pack and carry our own one-person tents along with clothing and storm gear designed to match variable weather fluctuations. Most important of all would be the care and carry of our own individual water supply in way of at least 2 quarts each during our start-out. Any additional water would be left to our own ingenuity: creeks, puddles, dew drops, wet clothing, etc.

The myriad of items to be packed became a very methodical and systematic process that we had...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 2.5.2022
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Sport
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-3485-1 / 1667834851
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-3485-6 / 9781667834856