Hey Todd,
I'm the boyfriend of the girl who got lost on Monday, October 20, 2003. I posted the following story already in a different section of the Message Board, but I though you would be interested in reading it, since it has more details than the Sheriff report. Thanks for your concern...
Mount Whitney Area Rescue 10/22/03
My name is David Lindsay. My girlfriend Olivia Djeke and I decided to climb Mount Whitney after attending a lecture on the subject. We were both in good shape, and trained for a long time by working out five days a week, going on weekly hikes with the Sierra Club, and practicing rock climbing at “Rockreation” in Costa Mesa, CA. We also hiked in the Santa Monica Mountains and summited 12,590 ft. Mount Conness in Yosemite (mostly off-trail hiking) the month before our Mount Whitney hike. Besides going to the Whitney lecture, we also prepared for the hike by reading books on the subject, and talking to people who had done it. We had all the necessary gear and clothing, and experience using them. Here is what happened:
Sunday, October 19
We hiked up to Trail Camp from the Whitney Portal Trailhead, and spent the night there.
Monday, October 20
9:00am - Leaving our tent, sleeping bags and main packs at Trail Camp, we set out for the Mount Whitney summit. We were each carrying two liters of water, some food, and clothing layers for every occasion, including down jackets. Olivia is a strong hiker, but takes small steps, so I rationalized that the “tortoise up / rabbit down” approach would help us avoid altitude sickness. I had her hike in front of me the entire trip, so she could go at her own pace.
When we hit the dreaded “97 Switchbacks,” we told each other stories while climbing, in order to keep our minds off the steepness. It worked, because we made it to the top of the trail with hardly any stops. At the Trail Crest sign, where the Mount Whitney Trail intersects with the John Muir Trail, we encountered zombies on their way back down from the summit; a 20-ish guy with a bloody nose complaining about the hike, a 30-ish guy who said that he almost died five times but the view was worth it, a girl with asthma and altitude sickness, etc. Olivia gave me the “are we sure we wanna do this” look, but we were both up for the challenge. We headed up the ridge to the summit. At about 14,000 ft., we both began to get slight headaches, so we rested a few minutes. As we neared the summit, everyone coming down gave us encouragement and told us how beautiful it was.
4:00pm - We arrived at the summit much later than I had anticipated. But the weather was absolutely perfect, with no wind at all, and it was a gorgeous, cloudless, sunny day. We did all the requisite summit stuff; signed the ledger, touched the U.S. Geological Survey markers (all of them), took photos near the plaque, checked out the summit cabin, and sat on the highest toilet in the contiguous United States.
5:00pm - When we left the summit for Trail Camp, Olivia got her second wind and made it clear that nothing was going to stop her from getting to our tent as soon as possible. I told her that she should slow down because her footing was getting sloppy and I didn’t want us to get too far apart. But she kept the same pace and said that she just wanted to get down. We had originally planned to go home that day, but the hike took too long and she was tired. I tried to boost her morale by reminding her that when we reached the intersection at the Trail Crest sign, the trail back to camp would be an easy downhill hike. I stayed behind her and took a couple pictures of her hiking in front of me. But just before the Trail Crest sign, the trail passed behind a boulder and so did she. As I followed her around the boulder, I came to the Trail Crest sign, but there was no Olivia.
The Inyo National Forest Side – Fearing the Worst
7:00pm - Thinking that she was barreling down the Mount Whitney Trail switchbacks, I turned left toward them but could not see her. I called her name, but heard no reply. I went back a short way in the direction of the summit, calling her name and blowing a whistle, but no response. I looked down the talus field on the west side of the ridge to see if she had somehow fallen, but saw nothing. The only explanation I could think of was that she was going down the Mount Whitney Trail switchbacks, and I could not see her because of the rocks.
It was starting to get darker and colder, so I put on my down parka, hardshell jacket, and headlamp, then headed down the trail hoping to catch up to her. When I got about halfway down, I saw someone flashing a light at me from Trail Camp below, and I thought it might be her. But it turned out to be some other hiker, trying to signal his friends. I ran to our tent and saw what I feared most - no Olivia. My heart jumped into my stomach, as I realized that she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. But how could this have happened? I was just a few yards behind her. The Mount Whitney Trail was the best-maintained trail I had ever seen, and was really easy to follow.
The night was now pitch black and it was very cold. From my position at Trail Camp, I could see a small headlamp in the distance descending the switchbacks from the top of the ridge. I just knew it had to be Olivia, so I began to climb up the switchbacks as fast as I could, flashing my headlamp, blowing my whistle, and calling her name. I got about half-way up, when I heard the person above me calling out - with an Irish accent. It was a guy named Ronan, who had passed Olivia and me a few hours before as we were leaving the summit. I asked him if he had seen her on his way down, but he had not. He said she may have gone down the John Muir Trail instead of the Mount Whitney Trail. I had not even thought of that, but now it seemed to make the most sense.
9:30pm - Two more headlights came down the switchbacks and I started back up to meet them, but they turned out to be two rock climbers named Andre and Todd, who had lost their way. At this point, I had to make a decision; should I spend the night at Trail Camp, then in the morning hike up the Mount Whitney Trail switchbacks to Trail Crest, down the John Muir Trail switchbacks toward Crabtree Meadow, and to try to find Olivia, or should I hike the six miles back to the Whitney Portal Trailhead that night, where I could phone Search and Rescue? I decided that if Olivia was injured, waiting until the next morning to hike up and down the ridge without adequate food, not having resources to carry her with a broken limb or hypothermia, and not having any idea of her specific location, was too much of a risk. It would be better to get to a phone as soon as possible and contact Search and Rescue.
10pm - Ronan, Andre, and Todd were all going back down that night anyway, so I left Olivia’s pack and sleeping bag in the tent in case she returned. I also left her a note, telling her to stay there if she returned, and we left Trail Camp wearing headlamps. 2½ hours and 6 miles later we arrived at the Whitney Portal Trailhead. At 12:30am I called 911, but the rather rude operator told me to wait a day to see if Olivia finds her way back to Trail Camp. I explained to her that I could not do this, since I was no longer at Trail Camp. She replied that I would then have to wait and call the Inyo County Sheriff Department at 7am.
All the guys wished me luck and said that their thoughts were with me. I went to lay down in my truck. I had been hiking 15 hours straight, but could not sleep. I felt guilty that I was safe and Olivia was not. All I could think about was Olivia in the last stages of hypothermia, alone and lost, or her body being found lying twisted at the base of a talus field like George Mallory’s was on Everest. I knew that as a nurse, she would know what to do in spite of her lack of wilderness experience, but I didn’t know if her petite frame could handle a full night at high altitude without a tent or sleeping bag. The night seemed to last forever.
Tuesday, October 21
7:00am - From a payphone at the Whitney Portal Store, I contacted Cpl. Keith Hardcastle at Inyo County Search and Rescue. I told him the situation; I thought that she would probably stay put and wait to be saved, rather than wander further. Keith told me that the Inyo County Search and Rescue team only covers the Inyo (east) side of the ridge, and that the Sequoia National Park Service only covers the Sequoia (west) side of the ridge. But he had some contacts at Sequoia whom he would try to coordinate things with. I asked if he wanted me to hike back up to Trail Camp, but he said that I should wait at Whitney Portal in case he needed to reach me.
Doug Thompson, owner of the Whitney Portal store, began to open up the store for business. I told him about Olivia, and being one of the foremost Whitney experts in these here parts, he immediately began to put my mind at ease. He said that people take that wrong turn down the John Muir Trail all the time; even the Army Corp of Engineers did the same thing once. “She’ll be scared, cold, and uncomfortable,” he said, “but she’ll survive.” He told me if I needed anything after store hours, to just knock on his trailer door. In an effort to stay positive, I bought two “I Climbed Mount Whitney” mugs.
10am - I called Keith back at Inyo, and he told me that there was going to be access to a helicopter, as well as approval for a “wilderness landing” which was rare. Most of the area on the west side of the ridge is rocky, so it would be easy for a helicopter to see Olivia. He assured me that he would do everything he could for a successful outcome.
12pm - I got a call at the Whitney Portal Store from Pat Grediagin. She is the supervisor for Sequoia National Park Rangers. She told me that their regular helicopter was out fighting a fire, so they were getting a CHP helicopter from Fresno in the afternoon. The helicopter would search both the Inyo and Sequoia sides of the ridge. I asked her how late I could call her, and she said she would be there until the problem was resolved.
2:00pm - I spent the rest of this very long day feeling powerless, asking hikers if they had seen Olivia or to keep an eye out for her, calling Keith and Pat, and listening for any sound of a helicopter. At about 2:30pm, Doug came running out of the store… “Did you hear that? That‘s a helicopter. I know, I flew ‘em for 15 years!” After that, every time the phone rang I jumped ten feet in the air. But the call I was hoping for never came. A U.S. Forest Service Wilderness Ranger checked the Mount Whitney Trail from Iceberg Lake (east side of Mount Whitney) to the summit and down to the Whitney Portal Trailhead, but no sign of Olivia. I called Inyo and Sequoia, but they had not heard back from the helicopter yet, which I was told probably meant that they had not seen her. Trying to keep the tears back, I told them that I didn’t think she could take another night.
5pm - I called our families, because the outcome now looked so uncertain. My Mom’s church would be praying for Olivia, and so would the PTA at my niece’s school. My cousin’s band cancelled their gig and actually organized a search party of friends that were hikers. My brother and sister posted messages at
www.whitneyportalstore.com. Olivia’s sister Marilyn, brother Val, and daughter Julia all decided to drive up to Lone Pine because they could not just sit at home and do nothing. My family was crying, Olivia’s family was crying, and I don’t think anyone slept. At this time, Pat was still coordinating rescue efforts, and Keith called me to meet him at the Lone Pine airport the next morning at 7am. He said that Inyo County Search and Rescue and the Sequoia National Park Service were going to conduct a joint search operation with multiple helicopters, plus foot searches on both sides of the ridge, and emphasized that, “she WILL be found.”
Wednesday, October 22
7:00am - At Lone Pine Airport, I met Keith and also April (Search and Rescue #23). They explained to me what was going to happen next. As a helicopter took off, I kept pushing the image out of my mind of Keith coming up to me and saying, “Dave, I’ve got some bad news…”
The Sequoia National Park Side – Survival (Olivia)
Monday, October 20
5:00pm - After Dave and I left the Summit for Trail Camp, I was tired and realized that there was no way we could make it back to Whitney Portal Trailhead before dark, as we had originally planned. But I at least wanted to make it back to Trail Camp before dark. So I was hiking at a quick pace.
7:00pm - I passed the Trail Crest sign and followed the trail to the right which was going down. (This turned out to be the John Muir Trail, which went in the wrong direction.) Since it had switchbacks, I thought I was on the Mount Whitney Trail. I hiked non-stop to the bottom, but then the trail sort of disappeared. I decided to stay put and wait for Dave to come behind me. But when I saw two lakes in the distance, I realized that I was not in the right place. I could not find the trail and it was dark, so I called for Dave until my voice was hoarse, and blew my whistle. I left my headlamp on “blinking” mode so someone could still see me if I fell asleep or passed out. It was dark and cold now, so I decided to sit up against a big rock to protect myself from the wind. The ground, which was also solid rock, was too cold to lie down on. I could not open the knot on the bag which contained my down jacket, so I cut the bag open with my knife, slicing my left finger in the process. I used my bandana to stop the bleeding, then used a spare pair of socks as mittens.
I thought, OK what now? I need to do everything I can to survive, so I can see my daughter graduate from college, see her get married and have kids, and see my family and Dave again. Since Dave had not come down, I thought that he had perhaps fallen over the edge of the ridge while taking a picture, so I stayed up all night, waiting for the sunrise so I could look for him. I prayed, “Please God, let Dave be OK, I love him very very much.”
Although I was wearing a down jacket, long underwear, waterproof/windproof jacket and pants, and a cap, the cold and wind still cut through to the bone. I wrapped my emergency blanket around myself, and started doing Salsa moves to keep warm. (I laughed about this to myself, to keep from being scared.) There was a rock in front of me that kept reminding me of a coffin. I heard thunder in the distance, but thankfully, there was no rain. I kept thinking that I heard footsteps around me, and never went to sleep.
Tuesday, October 21
6:30am – I thought I could retrace my steps when the sun came up, but I still could not find the trail. I had no idea where I was, or even where Mount Whitney was. But I thought that Trail Camp had to be somewhere nearby. So I got up and hiked around, hoping to see the distinctive “solar toilet” building of Trail Camp, and to find Dave. After hours of no success, I hiked over some low ridges and decided that I was not getting anywhere. I then took inventory of my supplies: ½ liter of water, 1 Kraft Cheese ‘n Crackers pack, 2 Cliff Bars, a small bag of nuts and raisins, 1 lemon Starburst, 1 piece of ****y, 1 signal mirror, 1 whistle, 1 emergency blanket, 2 trekking poles, 1 small daypack, and my clothes.
1:00pm - I hiked toward some trees, hoping to find some water and people. I crossed a river and went down to a meadow. I thought it would be best to stay there, and it was a good place for a helicopter to land because it was flat. Feeling helpless, I sat down and prayed, “Please God, I don’t know what else to do, please give me some ideas.” I then picked up some rocks, and used them to write the word, “HELP” in the meadow. Next, I made a larger “HELP” sign facing another direction. After noticing a lot of jets flying overhead, I thought that maybe they could see a REALLY big “HELP” sign if I made it out of boulders. So I tried that, but by this time I was so tired that I could only spell “HLP.” As I was working on these signs, I was still blowing my whistle and yelling for help. I was becoming very hungry and thirsty, but knew that I had to conserve, so I only had a few nuts, and a few sips of water.
This next part is a little spooky; I sat down in the middle of the meadow and waited for help. All of a sudden, I thought I heard Dave shouting, “HEY OLIVIA…” I replied, “Dave?” When I looked up, I saw what appeared to be Dave, sitting on a bench at the top of a ridge, smiling down on me. I looked down because I could not believe what I was seeing. Then I looked up again, and he was still there. I knew that I must have been hallucinating, but I still felt that it was a sign Dave was dead, and that he was trying to look after me. I moved from side to side to see if the image would disappear, and it did. But I avoided looking in that direction for the rest of the afternoon.
2:30pm - I heard a helicopter and it passed by my side. I was thrilled, because I knew this meant that someone was searching for me. I waived my bright yellow jacket to try and get the pilot’s attention. He banked and went directly over me, but then disappeared over the ridge in the distance. Disappointed by this, I began to wonder if I would be found in time.
The meadow was swampy, so the only area I could sleep on was over rocks. I gathered some grass to put underneath my body when I slept, hoping that this would block some of the coldness, and I built a small wind-block out of rocks. I did not want to use my daypack, which contained food, as a pillow, because I was afraid that bears would eat my face. So I hid the daypack in between some rocks, because I remembered hearing that bears don’t like having to climb around them.
5:00pm - I heard another helicopter and saw it hovering over the Mount Whitney summit. This was the first time I actually realized where Mount Whitney was. Also, because the helicopter was hovering, I thought they were looking for Dave’s body, and might throw down a rope to bring his body into the helicopter on a backboard. The helicopter then came toward me, and I started waiving my arms. It hovered to the left of me, then hovered behind me, then disappeared. I bargained with God, saying, “If I have to stay here a second night, I will, but I don’t think I can survive a third.”
7:30pm - I laid down, but could not sleep. It felt colder than the previous night, and I was shivering more. Because of my training as a nurse, I saw this as a sign of possible hypothermia, and knew that I had to keep moving in order to stay warm. I tried to move my feet and hands as much as I could. But eventually, I began to get a feeling of warmth and extreme comfort which did not seem normal. Knowing that this could be a bad sign, I forced myself to stay awake. This was the longest night of my life, because I truly felt that I could not make it through the next if I was not found.
Wednesday, October 22
6:30am - Dawn broke, and I was very thankful to have survived another night.
7:30am - A helicopter flew straight over my head. I got on a rock and waived my trekking poles, but the helicopter disappeared over the Mount Whitney summit.
8:00am - Another helicopter flew straight over my head. Once again, I waived my trekking poles, but the helicopter disappeared over the Mount Whitney summit. After being missed four times, I decided that I really had to be prepared for the next helicopter, should it come. The best thing I could think of was to stand on a high rock and waive my emergency blanket, which was reflective. I also had a small signal mirror, but the sun was not yet high enough to use it.
8:45am - I saw another helicopter coming over Mount Whitney, so I got up on a rock and waived my emergency blanket back and forth. The helicopter was hovering low to my left, then it came toward me and circled over my head a few times before landing in the meadow. When Sequoia National Park Service Pilot Kent Pierce stepped out, I was crying and ran over to him. I gave him a big hug and thanked him. “Are you OK?” he said. “Yes, I’m just cold,” I replied. He asked me my name and I told him. I asked if he had received any information about David Lindsay, and he looked at his paper. My heart sank, because he could not give me an immediate answer. He then told me that Dave was OK. He said, “I know you’re a nurse, but do you want to go to the hospital?” I told him I was fine. The Park Helitack Captain, John Ziegler, then came out and I hugged him and thanked him too. He told me that I did all the right things, and that the emergency blanket made me much easier to spot. Then Kent said, “Let’s go home!”
We took off, flew over Mt. Whitney, then flew into Lone Pine Airport where I could see Dave waiting for me below. After we landed, I grabbed my gear and my emergency blanket, and ran over to him as fast as I could. We hugged each other and kissed some very, very chapped lips…
Epilogue (Dave)
Another helicopter brought back Olivia’s tent, pack and sleeping bag from Trail Camp. After a huge breakfast and two root beer floats, I took her around town and introduced her to all the folks who were pulling for her. Her family arrived, and we all went back up to the Whitney Portal Store, where Doug Thompson gave her a big hug, and also a copy of his book, “Mount Whitney - Mountain Lore from the Whitney Portal Store,” signing inside the cover, “To Olivia - Great to see you back on this side! - Doug.”
So what caused all this to happen in the first place?
- Was this an example of hikers “not sticking together” on the trail? Not really; sometimes just a few seconds or a blind curve is all that it takes for people to lose each other. Although Olivia was going fast, I was only a few yards behind her, and my view of her was obscured only when she passed the boulder before the Trail Crest sign. But this taught us that it is a good idea for hikers to wait for others in a group, whenever coming to a sign that is at a trail junction.
- Did we summit too late in the day? Probably; although it was still light when we approached the Trail Crest sign, it would be darker as we got to the bottom of the switchbacks. The book “How to Climb Mount Whitney in One Day” by Sharon Baker-Salony lists the average ascent time from Trail Camp to the summit as 4½ hours. It also says that this is supposed to be for “middle-aged, weekend and amateur hikers.” Even though we were allowing for 7 hours, the sun was already starting to set when we got back to the sign.
- Were we both “self-sufficient?” No; although we each had proper clothing and supplies, I had the map and compass, so she was relying on me. If I had given her a duplicate map and compass, she would have had more resources to find her way back, once she realized that she had gone the wrong way. I also think it would really help if the Sequoia National Park Service would put a sign on the upper section of the John Muir Trail coming down from Trail Crest, indicating the direction of the Whitney Portal Trailhead. This might be a good idea, based on what I heard about others making the same mistake over the years.
For example, on July 17, 1898, John Herr of Pasadena, CA left the summit at the exact same time we did, and took the same wrong turn that Olivia did. Here is his direct quote: “At 5 o'clock we commenced the descent. I, having started on ahead, took the wrong direction and lost my way, causing some delay and anxiety to the boys.”
The coordination of rescue efforts between the Inyo and Sequoia teams was not the only example of different groups banding together; Keith put out the word with all the locals, and Doug told hikers going up to keep an eye out for Olivia, as well as asking hikers coming down if they had seen her. When I drove into Lone Pine to get some money and more supplies, the attendant at the Mobil station said, “Have you heard about that missing girl?” The pharmacist at Lone Pine Drugs expressed concern, and even people in the Carl’s Jr. knew about her! When I got back to the Whitney Portal Store, everyone was wishing me luck and telling me that they would pray for her.
We gained a lot of insight and a lot of friends on this trip. I hope this story will be of some help to future Whitney-ites. Mucho mucho thanks to Pat Grediagin, Keith Hardcastle, Bill Lutze, Doug Thompson, John Ziegler, Kent Pierce, Bob, April, Karen, Andre, Todd, Ronan the Irish dude, the Lone Pine community, fellow hikers, our families, and countless others for bringing Olivia back!
