Editorial: The shortcut

I'm so stupid, she said. Olga was telling a story to me and other members of Auburn's Newcomers & Neighbors walking group. Hidden Falls Regional Park was the subject. The name was familiar because of the public outcry from residents impacted by the park's expansion. Olga, however, was not talking about the expansion. She was talking about the hike she took three days earlier. A long-time member of the walking group, Olga regularly joins the twice-weekly hikes. Because of mobility issues, she and her fluffy 12-pound Pomeranian, Chloe, stay in the back of the pack. They typically take the less challenging route of a hike if there is one. That option was available at Hidden Falls. While the rest of the group navigated down the trail to the waterfall, Olga took the easier path to a bridge. After she and Chloe rested and enjoyed the view, Olga, who may not have read about the Donner Party, decided she'd take a shortcut. Instead of returning the way she came, she crossed the bridge, reasoning that the trail along the creek would lead her back to the car park. After walking on the trail for longer than she expected, she asked directions from two cyclists who had ridden up behind her. They replied with three words no hiker wants to hear: "You are lost." They advised her to turn around and go back to the bridge. Olga is 79 years old. She emigrated from Czechoslovakia 50 years ago, and she and her husband owned and operated a local restaurant for 15 years. Olga trusts her instincts. She ignored the cyclists. She continued on and eventually came to a directional sign. Although it was difficult to read without her glasses, she realized the cyclists were right. She should have turned around. Now, she decided, she had traveled too far to go back. On she trudged. Olga's knee hurt, her feet hurt, her head hurt. She was exhausted. She had no water, and no phone. But, she said, I knew I had to keep going. After reading a second park sign, she realized just how lost she was. Olga had walked further and further away from the parking lot, and deeper and deeper into the remote area of the park. Olga eventually reached another bridge, and to her immense relief, saw a small group of people. They were a family from Folsom. They gave Olga and Chloe water and crackers. Hopefully, in that order, I thought. They had walkie talkies. One woman contacted her husband, who was cycling up ahead, to request he use his cell to call for help. The family was wonderful, said Olga. They stayed with her, and one woman carried little Chloe. Help was on its way. But it took a while. Hidden Falls Park, even before the expansion, is over 1,000 acres with 30 miles of trails. A ranger arrived in a pickup truck 45 minutes later. The wait showed how far into the park Olga had strayed. I was so thankful to see him; she told us. And very grateful for this rescue service. Curious to find out how many hikers get lost, I telephoned Casey Lyons, Senior Supervising Parks and Grounds guy. He didn't have the numbers, but guessed the people who request rescue rides are unprepared, rather than lost. They underestimate the hike - a mile and a half down to the falls and a mile and a half back, uphill. Often they have no water or dress inappropriately for the hike or the weather. The Parks and Ground supervisor had the following advice for potential hikers: Pick up a trail map from the kiosk in the parking lot, dress appropriately, carry water and a snack. Mountain bikers and equestrians, not to mention sun-bathing rattlesnakes, share the trails, so it's important to stay alert. Hikers should keep their dogs on leashes and out of the brush, to protect them and their owners from ticks and poison oak. Casey also said additional signs are in the works. One by the bridge would have helped direct Olga. Her one and a half-hour hike had lasted over four hours. You must have been so relieved to get back to your car, I told her. I would have, she said, if I could have found it. So many vehicles had arrived since she'd parked that morning, that she couldn't see her car. Neither could her hiking pals who assumed she'd doubled back from her shortened route and had left. "I don't blame anybody but myself," Olga repeated several times. As Olga wandered around the parking lot before finally locating her car, she recalled muttering to herself, "This is just what I need. More walking." Pauline Nevins is the author of the memoir, "Fudge" The Downs and Ups of a Biracial, Half-Irish British War Baby; and Bonkers for Conkers, a compilation of personal essays. She can be reached at paulinenevins.com.