“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” is commonly advised to campers before heading out on Extra Day Trips. Though I have often taken this to mean, “Don’t forget your rainfly and bring enough sunscreen to share with everyone who forgets,” my adventures through the Southern Sierra last week demonstrated that this phrase should be applied to more than just the weight in your bag.
My colleague, Aaron Snyder, Latin teacher and Dorm Head to the sophomore boys, is also a frequent camping partner of mine, and he, myself, two head prefects and ten sophomores—three veterans and seven newbies— embarked on a camping trip that required preparation beyond merely a rainfly. After a five-hour car ride, we arrived at our intended trailhead. But the serene setting was instantly overshadowed by a florescent orange sign that read, “HAZARDOUS. No public entry beyond this point.” Hesitant to this unwelcoming invitation, Aaron and I returned to our maps and created a new route on a whim.
Less than a mile into our new course, the path ended and we were left bushwhacking our way along a non-existent trail. Eventually we found a road, which, according to our maps, would take us to our desired campsite. While “hoping for the best”, we initiated trail games, but before the first guess, an unnatural object appeared before us: two strangers in an oversized golf cart. Though our undertaking impressed them, they kindly informed us that our maps were dated and we had actually ventured onto their private property. Oops!
Aaron and I went back to the drawing board that night. Day Two began with a fresh course, though obstacles took new forms when a camper grew sick from the altitude and we spotted a bear just outside our next campsite. And sure enough, Day Three posed unexpected threats as well, when we nearly stepped on a rattlesnake, camouflaged in our path.
At this point, I began to doubt our safety on this unpredictable journey. But we carried on, arrived at Painter’s Camp, climbed into the brisk Kern River and headed up the stream. When we reached the waterfall, Aaron stood below the first rock and lifted a brave student up to climb the falls. A pit grew in my stomach as I watched the student’s hands blindly search the slippery surface for crevices to pull his body the rest of the way up. Had my nail beds not been black with dirt, I surely would have been biting away. I wondered about my course of action if he fell. Where should I stand? How can I position myself to catch him? My imaginative thoughts were brought to a halt when I heard a soft voice call my name.
“Ms. Witmer,” she said. “Can I do that?”
I looked back at the new sophomore’s eagerly lit face. I wanted to scream, “No! Are you crazy? But with no nails to bite, I bit back my reservations instead and said, “Of course. Mr. Snyder will help you up.”
Excitement struck her face as she looked from me to the rocky course before her. Just before she swam off, she turned back to me once more and said, “I really like this school.” Left standing in the cool river, I felt my teeth stop chattering but a new chill grew in its place. Had she stayed longer, I would have responded, “Me too.”