Impermanence
Nearly three full weeks have passed since I had the pleasure of meeting Evan and Monika at RAKFAF. They were looking at this photo from my display, and I struck up a conversation with them. We hit it off right away. A few days later, they attended my public workshop at the festival, and we had the chance to talk again. Fast forward another week, and I found myself out on the trail with them and their friend Thomas, excited for an adventure into these new “woods”. I had been wanting to explore Wadi Naqab ever since reading about it many months ago. I knew that hiking alone into unfamiliar territory wasn’t smart, and I had been warned by many about the dangers of the hike. I was so grateful to find myself in the company of these three perfect strangers who I’m now honored to call my friends. We planned to hike to Al Sanat Village and return to the base of the wadi to camp for the night. Evan and Thomas knew the route well and I was grateful for their guidance and smarts.
We started around 11:30. It was quite hot in the sun, but pleasant in the shade. The scenery was stunning; like nothing I’ve seen before. There’s no moving quickly over the terrain out there. Big rocks and steep drop offs leave lots of places for a misstep to cause an injury. It was amazing to feel the vastness and power of the place.
We reached Al Sanat Village around 3:30 that afternoon. The final climb was not for the faint of heart. So many times, I was grateful for all four sets of our eyes looking for cairns to guide us. Emerging at the top and seeing the beautiful little village, that is only reachable on foot or by helicopter, was an experience I’ll always remember. It’s an oasis of beautiful greenery in the winter months, and many tiny flowers adorned the plants at the top. (The locals couldn’t get over the flowers, and assured me it’s NOT like this at other times of the year :))
As we were about to begin our descent, we heard a noise coming from the other side of the village that turned out to be a person asking for us to wait. I could see him clearly, and I had noticed him about 30 minutes beforehand as well, moving quickly across the opposite side of the village from us. I remember thinking it was odd he was alone. We called back to him, asking if he needed help. He said yes. There was something about the sound of his voice that gave me pause. At some point as he was trying to reach us, we lost sight of him. Not wanting to leave without knowing he was safe, Evan hiked towards where we’d seen him, but couldn’t spot him. We hiked back to the top of the village to look, where we encountered a hiking guide who told us that his group had just found a lost hiker who was going to hike down with them. Relieved to know that the man was safe, we continued our hike down.
At the end of the hike, we encountered a group of very worried hikers, who showed us a picture of the man we’d seen. We told them he was safe and coming down with a group behind us. Search and Rescue was there.
Not 2 minutes later, we encountered another woman who said she was also missing someone.
She showed us a picture, and it was not the man we’d seen, so we encouraged her to talk to Search and Rescue.
We made camp, a fire, had dinner, enjoyed the stars. At about 8 p.m. we saw the Search and Rescue vehicles leave and assumed all was well. But then, about 2 hours later, two search and rescue vehicles came tearing back through the canyon. And that’s when we got worried.
By some coincidence that is beyond all comprehension, there were two lost/missing hikers at Al Sanat Village at the exact same time. It turned out the man we had seen never returned, and it was the other missing hiker who came down with the guide/group.
The following morning was full of helicopters, police, search and rescue, and we all felt full of confusion and disbelief.
The following days were full of hard-to-find information, combing through photos and talking to the search and rescuers.
Three days later, Evan and Thomas participated in a volunteer search and rescue where they found his body. He had fallen from a ledge likely trying to come down from the village alone in the dark.
We were the last people to see him alive.
Is it our fault? No. We know that. Integrity is doing the right thing based on the information you have. And we did that.
He made the choice to separate from his group and go alone on a route he didn’t know that’s poorly marked and dangerous.
Does that make it feel less traumatic? No.
Lack of culpability does not always directly correlate to how something feels.
I’ve been lost in the outdoors before. If you cannot fight the panic, death can be the result. Mother Nature’s power is absolute, and she demands the utmost reverence and respect. It can be terrifying and disorienting to be at her mercy, and if you try to fight her, she will always win. There are a million decisions he could have made that would have kept him safe. But that’s not how it worked out this time around. For some reason, it was his time.
And none of that changes the fact that the sound of his voice calling to us for help will stay in my mind and heart for a very long time.
