2024-08-20, 10:47 AM
I'm copying this over from the Death Valley Hiking FB Page. This is the story of the hiker Richard Mulligan from the Panamint Butte rescue the other day. It's a good reminder to us all.
This next journal entry is a cautionary tail. One that I’ve debated sharing out of feelings of embarrassment. However, I think it’s good, nay imperative, to show that even an experienced hiker can get themselves into trouble, and to show how important it is to be prepared for the worst.
I woke up at 3:30 AM and was out at 4:00 Am after grabbing some provisions and close to 9 liters of water. I began across the Panamint valley. My goal was to summit the Panamint Butte from the West face of the mountain range. This is one hike I’ve been researching since I’ve moved into the national park, one that I’ve discussed heavily with my friend (and DV expert) Chance. The west face is incredibly steep and would definitely be an all day scramble.
My first 8 miles to the base of the mountain were delightful. Around 75-80°, with the Perseid Meteor Shower providing a brilliant light show overhead. The peak of which was happening as I was beginning my hike. Meteorites exploding and streaking in the air in a stunning display of color delighted me as I put one foot in front of the other. About a mile in I noticed some eyes with my headlamp following me. As I brightened my headlamp I distinguished an adorable Kit Fox with the biggest ears, bigger than its head even. My canine companion sheepishly followed me across the valley floor for the next 4 or so miles until I reached Lake Hill, jumping in and out of cover slyly.
I followed the gravel road north after lake hill for another two or so miles after eating a snack or two. I reached the Big Four Mine, at which point I began my steep ascent. Steep is not a good enough descriptor for what I was about to do. For the next 5 hours I climbed on my hands and knees up a class 3/4 scramble, absolutely obliterating my hardly used arm and back muscles. It was incredibly slow going, around .75 miles per hour, and the sun began scorching overhead.
By noon I had finally reached the flat summit of the Butte to find the classic military ammo box with the logbook inside. This logbook was the original one from before the park received its national park status, dating back to 1978. There was so few names in the logbook, and even fewer who mentioned hiking it from the route that I took. I felt like I joined a select few psychos. I felt proud. I even had a little bit of signal to FaceTime my momma and talk for a bit. I checked the weather, even at 6,500 feet it was still 85°. I can only imagine what the valley floor or even Badwater Basin was at, significantly hotter, no doubt.
I consulted my topographical maps and decided that the canyon back down towards the valley floor was not incredibly steep. I started descending. Over the next few hours I ran out of my 20 pounds of water that I had brought, around 4:00 PM. I then reached an incredibly steep dryfall- around 30-40 feet maybe- with rappel points and anchors bolted in the wall. Not good. I did not have any rope or climbing equipment and decided that it would be much too risky to try and down climb in the event that I either fell, or came to something steeper. The topographical map had lied to me!
Seeing no other option I headed back up the incredibly steep canyon to down climb my previous ascent route, now waterless. More class 3 and class 4 scrambles up, very slow going, and I was starting to feel weaker and weaker, until eventually I completely lost consciousness, and began sliding down. I awoke to me about 20-30 feet lower than the last time I was conscious, with my head severely aching and against a big bolder. No blood, but it was clear I had hit my head. There was no telling how long I was unconscious for as I didn’t keep an eye on the time diligently, but it couldn’t have been for more than 5-10 minutes.
At this point I hit my SOS button on my Garmin InReach to get into contact with Search and Rescue to help me get out. I climbed up again to get to an easy evacuation point. By 7:00 PM I had reached the ridge and stayed put. My friends and trail family from the Colorado Trail had been following along, watching my back, and noticed I was no longer moving. Bus Stop and Banshee called SAR, as well as my job to alert the people closest to me of the situation.
I then sat there for 3/3.5 hours until a helicopter was able to pinpoint my exact coordinates that I gave them, and see my headlamp flashing in the darkness. Jesse “Petey” Peterson descended from the navy helicopter to check me out, and make sure that I was still alive. Luckily I was. He fitted me with a harness and connected me to the rope dangling from the helicopter. I was flung up into the air, where I was given some ice cold water, and hooked up to a machine to monitor my vitals.
We then B-lined it to the nearest hospital, Ridgecrest Regional Hospital, roughly 70 miles away. It was a really cool experience, aside from the grappling with my mortality. It was my first time in a helicopter ever. It hardly felt like we were moving, it was so level.
We got to the hospital around midnight, where they put me through a Cat Scan to check on my head- luckily no concussion. Afterwards they pumped me with 2L of IV fluids, and took my blood to run some tests. At around 3AM and after a door dash of del taco I was discharged to get back to Death Valley.
I was picked up by a mustang driven by JimBob, a delightful guy who relished conversation. By 4AM I was back on property to rest up on my second day off.
Please take heed of my story. I am an experienced hiker, and have lived in the park since November. This sort of thing could happen to absolutely anyone. If I did not have my Satellite Communicator, my headlamp, and friends who knew where I was supposed to be and when, I might not be alive to write this out. Please be prepared for the worst out there, and of course being way more water than you need.I want to extend an indebted thank you to the China Lake Search and Rescue squad for getting me out of this dicey situation safely. Along with that I want to thank Banshee and Bus Stop, and all the Panamint springs employees for realizing something was amiss.
This next journal entry is a cautionary tail. One that I’ve debated sharing out of feelings of embarrassment. However, I think it’s good, nay imperative, to show that even an experienced hiker can get themselves into trouble, and to show how important it is to be prepared for the worst.
I woke up at 3:30 AM and was out at 4:00 Am after grabbing some provisions and close to 9 liters of water. I began across the Panamint valley. My goal was to summit the Panamint Butte from the West face of the mountain range. This is one hike I’ve been researching since I’ve moved into the national park, one that I’ve discussed heavily with my friend (and DV expert) Chance. The west face is incredibly steep and would definitely be an all day scramble.
My first 8 miles to the base of the mountain were delightful. Around 75-80°, with the Perseid Meteor Shower providing a brilliant light show overhead. The peak of which was happening as I was beginning my hike. Meteorites exploding and streaking in the air in a stunning display of color delighted me as I put one foot in front of the other. About a mile in I noticed some eyes with my headlamp following me. As I brightened my headlamp I distinguished an adorable Kit Fox with the biggest ears, bigger than its head even. My canine companion sheepishly followed me across the valley floor for the next 4 or so miles until I reached Lake Hill, jumping in and out of cover slyly.
I followed the gravel road north after lake hill for another two or so miles after eating a snack or two. I reached the Big Four Mine, at which point I began my steep ascent. Steep is not a good enough descriptor for what I was about to do. For the next 5 hours I climbed on my hands and knees up a class 3/4 scramble, absolutely obliterating my hardly used arm and back muscles. It was incredibly slow going, around .75 miles per hour, and the sun began scorching overhead.
By noon I had finally reached the flat summit of the Butte to find the classic military ammo box with the logbook inside. This logbook was the original one from before the park received its national park status, dating back to 1978. There was so few names in the logbook, and even fewer who mentioned hiking it from the route that I took. I felt like I joined a select few psychos. I felt proud. I even had a little bit of signal to FaceTime my momma and talk for a bit. I checked the weather, even at 6,500 feet it was still 85°. I can only imagine what the valley floor or even Badwater Basin was at, significantly hotter, no doubt.
I consulted my topographical maps and decided that the canyon back down towards the valley floor was not incredibly steep. I started descending. Over the next few hours I ran out of my 20 pounds of water that I had brought, around 4:00 PM. I then reached an incredibly steep dryfall- around 30-40 feet maybe- with rappel points and anchors bolted in the wall. Not good. I did not have any rope or climbing equipment and decided that it would be much too risky to try and down climb in the event that I either fell, or came to something steeper. The topographical map had lied to me!
Seeing no other option I headed back up the incredibly steep canyon to down climb my previous ascent route, now waterless. More class 3 and class 4 scrambles up, very slow going, and I was starting to feel weaker and weaker, until eventually I completely lost consciousness, and began sliding down. I awoke to me about 20-30 feet lower than the last time I was conscious, with my head severely aching and against a big bolder. No blood, but it was clear I had hit my head. There was no telling how long I was unconscious for as I didn’t keep an eye on the time diligently, but it couldn’t have been for more than 5-10 minutes.
At this point I hit my SOS button on my Garmin InReach to get into contact with Search and Rescue to help me get out. I climbed up again to get to an easy evacuation point. By 7:00 PM I had reached the ridge and stayed put. My friends and trail family from the Colorado Trail had been following along, watching my back, and noticed I was no longer moving. Bus Stop and Banshee called SAR, as well as my job to alert the people closest to me of the situation.
I then sat there for 3/3.5 hours until a helicopter was able to pinpoint my exact coordinates that I gave them, and see my headlamp flashing in the darkness. Jesse “Petey” Peterson descended from the navy helicopter to check me out, and make sure that I was still alive. Luckily I was. He fitted me with a harness and connected me to the rope dangling from the helicopter. I was flung up into the air, where I was given some ice cold water, and hooked up to a machine to monitor my vitals.
We then B-lined it to the nearest hospital, Ridgecrest Regional Hospital, roughly 70 miles away. It was a really cool experience, aside from the grappling with my mortality. It was my first time in a helicopter ever. It hardly felt like we were moving, it was so level.
We got to the hospital around midnight, where they put me through a Cat Scan to check on my head- luckily no concussion. Afterwards they pumped me with 2L of IV fluids, and took my blood to run some tests. At around 3AM and after a door dash of del taco I was discharged to get back to Death Valley.
I was picked up by a mustang driven by JimBob, a delightful guy who relished conversation. By 4AM I was back on property to rest up on my second day off.
Please take heed of my story. I am an experienced hiker, and have lived in the park since November. This sort of thing could happen to absolutely anyone. If I did not have my Satellite Communicator, my headlamp, and friends who knew where I was supposed to be and when, I might not be alive to write this out. Please be prepared for the worst out there, and of course being way more water than you need.I want to extend an indebted thank you to the China Lake Search and Rescue squad for getting me out of this dicey situation safely. Along with that I want to thank Banshee and Bus Stop, and all the Panamint springs employees for realizing something was amiss.
Check out my travel blog: www.pocketsfullofdust.com