Ascent of Red Peak 



31 



I had ascended. At six o'clock, much to my surprise, 

 I discovered that my path was leading me toward a rush- 

 ing stream coming from the south into the river course 

 in which I was, and that it was a stream larger than the 

 one that passed my camp. I saw that I had lost my bear- 

 ings, but felt that I could still reach camp if the daylight 

 lasted, since I could see Mt. Starr King occasionally 

 ahead of me as a guide. 



Six-thirty came,' and seven. I passed the conspicuous 

 red sign of a soda spring and a gorge waterfall like the 

 Rancheria Falls in Hetch Hetchy, though not as high. 

 I saw a cave, the first that I had seen in the Sierra, with 

 a circular entrance about eight feet in diameter in the 

 face of the solid granite cliff above the stream, and acces- 

 sible only at low water, but I had no time to investigate 

 then. I tried climbing the ridge intervening between my 

 present river bed and that to the north, presumably the 

 one of my camp, but was driven back by the aspen and 

 the manzanita. It was now rapidly growing dark in the 

 thick forest. Seven-fifteen came and I got around the 

 lower end of this ridge and squared away for home. 

 Seven-thirty and night closed in and I was lost. I was 

 neither an owl nor a chipmunk and was almost helpless 

 in the darkness of the dense growth of the river bottom. 

 I could not tell time by my watch, and after struggling 

 through a tamarack thicket and probably passing near 

 my camp, I fought out into the comparative open under 

 a small dome and admitted to myself that I would have 

 to pass the long, cold night practically without fire, bed, 

 clothes, sleep or food. 



I heard once that Mr. Muir had danced all night on 

 Mt. Whitney's 14,500-foot top to keep from freezing, 

 but after fifteen hours of almost continuous exertion and 

 no supper I did not feel like dancing. I tried to climb the 

 dome to reconnoiter, but after stumbling in the pitchy 

 darkness through the bafifling labyrinths of manzanita and 

 buckthorn brush for half an hour, catching my clothes 

 on the obstructions, scratching my arms and face, and 



