I’d poured over my technically topographical Fancy Pants map all that previous night and decided on a spot I thought I might be in. I was in no way convinced I was right and had no faith it its reliability, but what else did I have to go on so I continued west through the strange twin mounds plain.
My visions of CIA men watching me continued on even after I got a closer look at the mounds which were simply on either end of various ditches through out. I suppose my imagination gets the better of me at times, or it simply entertained me. I aimed for what I thought was a significant landmark from my map where a creek ran down and veered west. Theoretically I would follow that on a two track alongside it to another river that would then guide me out of the Basin by the end of the day. I had gone 25 miles the previous day and had figured by the cops telling that the Basin was about 50 miles wide, 60 at best. My water was at about a quarter strength but I’d started out with it about there so I wasn’t terribly worried about it, I just didn’t cook. The wind was keeping me cool enough from sweating it all out of me.
I aimed for this landmark ridge and when I deserted my trail to go over to it I found no creek, but I did discover a solid dirt road. That was good enough for me. Following that I spotted signs that told it was BLM road 2317 which I located on map many, many miles north of where I thought I was. I plotted a new course thinking I’d now found a way out, but the error lay in that this road did not connect with a road that lead to the exit I wanted, it lead to Atlantic City, a town about 20 miles north of where I wanted to come out. I’d have to take a shortcut or go the super long way around.
Having a decent idea of my bearings now I followed the road several hours until it reached a creek I felt I recognized. I left the road that was beginning to head north and followed the creek that headed west and somewhat south. My mountain compass was proving to waver quite a bit whenever my head popped over a ridge to see it.
I was happy again, convinced I’d found my way out. I began picturing happy times in Seattle with the family, and karaoke with Angie. A lot of my dreaming had to do with food as well, mostly cheesecake and the upcoming wedding feast. It was not dawning on me that in my water conservation I was not eating properly and was merely surviving off of energy bars and oatmeal alone.
My creek trail crossed out of itself as I’d expected and I followed it merrily until it turned a way I didn’t want it to, a way it wasn’t supposed to. Consulting my map I was not at all where I thought I was. Frustrated with all the dirt roads, two tracks, and sage brush I angrily crossed overland again now with no goal in mind other than the setting sun and the westward mountain.
This was the plan of an idiot. I stomped, tripped, and plowed my way through the tangled sage, passing the wild cows grazing long since over my fear of them trampling me in a cattle uprise. There was a bluff I headed for for no real reason other than its look and from there I stood on high ground to try to get some view of a westward heading, two track, or trail. All the while in my head thoughts of eating and feasting ran through me as well as the desire to leave this cursed Basin. I wished mainly for the Sweetwater River, because that I could identify from its size and from there I could properly place myself and guide my way out at long last.
I spotted a two track. It was a little ways off over sage, but what else was new. Stumbling to it, I followed it over a hill and into a valley pasture where cows angrily mooed that I was disrupting their sanctity, but as the sun hung low behind them I spotted at the base of the valley a grove of trees. This meant a stream or creek, and as I made for it it indeed proved to be the Sweetwater River I had so desperately prayed for.
Lush green grass surrounded it, the water bubbled and gurgled magnificently clear. I could eat, cook dinner, clean, and not go the next day on another pittance of water supply. More importantly I had a shot at getting out of the place. I’d gone 30 miles in all that day over land and on trails. In celebration I had a hot cocoa and some Chili Mac with Beef.
I laid to bed that night happy and read my gift from Angie, The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.