They made a backpack in Big sur. Then their plans ignited

It was in October 1996, and my boyfriend Gary and I were on a weekend date in backpack. We had planned to hike on the Pine Ridge path to the hot sources of Sykes near Big on. It’s about 20 round trips.

Gary and I have been going out together for a few months. We worked together in an environmental engineering company. Everyone was very “campy”, as if to enjoy the outdoors, and we all loved going to Hot Springs. It was only one of the most local that everyone wants to check on their hiking lists they made.

It was supposed to be just a beautiful natural hot source in the middle of nothing. The perfect hippie weekend. Doesn’t that seem to be romantic? It would have been.

We had learned in the news that there was fire somewhere in the surroundings, as it was normal in California during this time of year. But it was small and distant, so we were not worried.

It had to be a Friday afternoon. We had all the equipment and we parked in the parking lot. The hike has an steep initial slope, and it seems endless. They are all giant redwoods, and it’s beautiful. There is no visibility of the sky. You can only see the hill so far or at the bottom of the hill. It is especially a direct hike and then you are almost there.

But when we were perhaps a mile approximately at the top of this hill, we started to hear this strange sound behind us. The sound that I will never forget.

This “oh, cha cha, oh, cha cha cha.” We have no idea what it is. We don’t see anything.

We continue to hike. Finally, we see these guys coming to the street behind us on the track with this song. They are in yellow helmets and yellow jackets, and they are in training, two by two. It’s like 10 guys, and everyone is carrying an ax, and they really have nothing else.

When they came by us, we still do not understand what they were. It was like: “Is it a fraternity? Who does that? It was only when they exceeded us that we realized that they were firefighters walking on the same hill.

When they came across us, it was then that they said, “You are heading for a fire area. We are going in this direction. You should probably leave.

We looked at each other, look at them and they exceeded us. They only stopped so long to tell us. We hesitated. We really wanted to see Sykes!

But, instead, we (hiking back). There are a lot of firefighters, a lot of staff and many people like us. And it was not only the people of the Hot Springs Trail sykes. There are many very popular campsites in this neighborhood. I think Big Basin was there.

We had been at the campsite for a while, and they (announced) they will evacuate us to Pfeiffer Beach.

So we set up sleeping bags with what looked like 100 other campers on Pfeiffer Beach.

And around 3 am, we were woken up again with the blow at once with an ad saying: “You must leave this area, we use it for the staging.”

They gave us a new destination to evacuate and wait for the fire. The thought at the start of the firefighters was: “We will control it, and you can leave in an hour.” And then, “we will control it, and you can leave tonight.” (Then) “We will control it, and you can leave tomorrow.” And then it was: “No, you will have to leave this area.”

But it was after 3 am, and this city girl was over. We led to a motel, and it could have been the end of our relationship. We were tired and irritable, and it was the hiking trip to hell. We have never seen the fire. We have never felt it.

I wouldn’t have done it now. With age, I am more sensible.

Forest fires are so frightening. (Fire) moves and it moves quickly. Here at La, I have my fire application and my aerial quality application. Now, at the minute you send me back, I would have abandoned. What was it: “No, we’re going to do it at all costs?” We were not the only ones. We were there a lot. We all had this state of mind of: “We will do it all the costs. We are just going to wait for him.

When there is a fire, stay at home. Not only for your own safety, but to get away from firefighters.

Gary and I are still friends. We are talking about once a year, and we are still talking about this hike. None of us have since tried to go to Sykes. One day, maybe! But water is not as high as at the time. It was a moment, and I missed it.

(We) are in admiration before this experience and laugh at our stupidity. We lived to camp another day.

Marjorie Almer lives the ownership of his family to the manager. She likes to swim and surf in the ocean, play the guitar and practice yoga. She dreams of one day planning a yoga and guitar retirement.

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