T. Duren Jones - Trail Mix

To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence.Mark Twain

We found ourselves onwell, I had carelessly led us toa cliffy, slippery incline, with seemingly no way up or down. We were stuck. Each step on the decomposed granite felt like we were trying to climb over marbles.

I have always loved the wildernessnot just scenic drive-bys, but actually getting into the great outdoors. Growing up at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains in Sierra Madre, California, northeast of Los Angeles, as an active latchkey lad, I was out every hot summer day, riding my Schwinn Sting-Ray bike to grand adventures. My working parents trusted my independence. And I (mostly) behaved myselfI guess thats not entirely true, but thats another story.

I explored Bailey Canyon near my house, snuck into the fenced reservoirs above the Little League field for a refreshing, prohibited swim in my underwear, built tree houses, dug holes in the backyard for dinosaur bones or buried treasure (none found, and my fatherwho was clearly more interested in safety than untold wealth and famemade me fill in my unfinished archaeological sites). I pretended to be Tarzan in a Lost World of the untamed jungle section of the Los Angeles County Arboretum not far from our home, and had heroic neighborhood battles with grenade oranges and metal trash can lids, before the orange groves were converted to housing subdivisions.

Nothing changed for my love of the outdoors (except that I had fewer fruit battles) through high school and college. I could now drive to the next adventure. I hiked the Mt. Wilson Trail, trekked Eaton Canyon above Pasadena, overturned ocean tide pool rocks in a search for hidden marine surprises, camped at Joshua Tree National Park and climbed the huge boulder piles, and photojournaled the California coastline from San Diego to San Francisco. I thought of myself as quite the National Geographic explorera triple-combination of Sir Edmund Hillary, Jeremiah Johnson and Ansel Adams. Truly a legend in my own collegiate mind.

So it was natural that I take my friend, Diane, on a hike up to Chantry Flat in the Big Santa Anita Canyon area, not far from my home. I had an interest in being more than friends. She, unfortunately, couldnt see past my flaming red hair, having some kind of mental block against carrot tops, perhaps after a bad childhood experience with a circus clown. But I would win her over with a demonstration of my mastery of wilderness exploration, and prowess as a trailblazer.

Chantry Flat is a designated Recreation Area in the Angeles National Forest. An 8.8 mile trail system offers scenic views, shady forested sections, abundant wildlife, a tranquil creek with large boulders, and waterfalls. Its nice that all this is available so close to the city. And it was a great place for me to show off.

At some point on the trail, and for some reason that now escapes me, I thought it was a good idea to lead us off the designated path. I know now, and probably knew then, that this is usually not a good decision. The trail is there for a reason. Not sure what I was thinking, but maybe it was for a better view of the valley below us. Or a different angle to see a waterfall below. Did I want to separate us from the other random hikers for some quiet reflection and conversation? Perhaps, I did it intentionally to put us in a dangerous situation to show how I could get us outto save her life! In any case, here we found ourselves, on a cliff side, slippery gravel under our feet, stuck, with no clear way up or down.

Humility bears a great weight when it arrives as a result of stupid decisions. I was embarrassed. Great impression I was making! Dumb as a vegetable. More than a bit nervous, frozen really (although, stoically, I tried not to show it), with nowhere to sit, unable to move in any direction without the ground moving with us, and closer to the drop-off, we leaned against the cliff wall. Tennis shoes were not the right footwear for this hike (duh), we had no water or food as I remember, and no spend-the-night-on-the- side-of-a-cliff clothing. We evaluated our options. Diane was athletic, confident, self-reliant; I dont think she was fully looking to me to solve our dilemma. But Carrot Top, who had ignorantly gotten us into this predicament, needed to get us out.