We started our climb in daylight, believing we were on the trail to the lake. Passed creeks and wonderful drinking water. (This was before bacteria spoiled the streams in the High Country) and all was just a beautiful hike in the forest. Soon the forest was behind us, as were the springs, and It grew dark. I suspected trouble, and I began to think we might be on the wrong trail. But we had been on the trail for a few miles, and I thought that heading back might get us in real trouble, so we continued onward and upward.
On top of this, it was a moonless night, and darkness enveloped us. Lenette and I strung a long rope from her to me, and all the kids and staff roped between us. On top of this, we were running out of water and began to ration it. We also started to suck on pebbles (one way to keep our mouths moist). We continued to climb, and eventually, we all went down on our knees. Tripping and falling had to be avoided. Our hike continued, and my concern mounted, and I considered stopping, climbing into our bags, and waiting until dawn. Suddenly one of the campers screamed, “I hear music!” In silence, we listened, and sure enough, the music was not far from us. We followed the sound and came to the campground on the shores of Lake Tenaya.
The campers and staff instantly fell into their bags. I made a fire and boiled some soup to give to each. I did not know that behind me was the “caregiver,” adding to the fire and helping serve each some soup. This 10-year-old had it in him to help others he knew needed help. He never changed from being what he was then to what he still is today. How do we not love a guy like this?
They give of themselves—It is who they are each day—Not special to them
Sy
