The Adventurer

By Fred Klein

Troy was excited to finally get his adventure started. He had planned this exploration of old mine sites in the Eastern Sierra Mountains for months. He had his high-clearance, Four Wheel Drive, Range Rover with all the supplies he would need for several weeks. He had a full-size spare tire, a winch with cable, flares, a rifle, extra fuel, a cell phone, and all the food and water he would need for several weeks. Troy brought his sole companion, Whiskey, his Pitt Bull. He had forest service maps of the area and websites for ghost towns in the Sierras. He had previously visited the easy ghost towns of Calico, Keeler, and Bode, and then the more challenging Cerro Gordo. Now he was going to Aurora and Masonic. After that, he was totally going off-roading to remnants of mines and camps that had no roads. The region was rugged, mountainous, and of high altitude.

At Masonic, he spoke to a forest ranger, “I’m going to mine sites near Elbow and Nine Mile House.”

“There are no roads up there, only cow paths, the ranger said.

“I am aware.”

“Also, it is late September, you could get an early snow at that altitude, and your cell phone will be useless there.”

“I will be careful.”

“Good, because we can’t be everywhere to rescue lost off-roaders.”

Troy drove off towards Elbow. The scenery is remote, isolated, and scenic. The path was extremely bumpy with larger ruts caused by big rains in the past few weeks. Near Elbow, he found the ruins of a miner’s cabin. He let Whiskey out to run around. Whiskey ran off to chase a squirrel. Whiskey followed the squirrel for a long time before Troy could coax him back to the vehicle. By that time, most of the daylight was gone, yet Troy ventured to go on towards Nine Mile House. Near twilight, it was hard to see all the ruts in the road, and after one very large rut, the Range Rover tilted to one side and appeared to have a flat. Troy got out to investigate. The rear passenger side tire was completely flat. He looked back at the path and found a piece of metal sticking out of the rut. It appeared to be an old axe from mining days. He was glad he brought a full-size spare, but after that, he would have no spares. He changed the tire as it was getting dark, so he decided to camp for the night. 

Troy built a fire and set up his tent. He and Whiskey ate a meal, and he got into his tent with his dog to sleep. During the night, he heard a scream from what could have been a mountain lion. After all, it was mountain lion country. To play it safe, Troy and Whiskey spent the remainder of the night in the Land Rover. The next day, they had breakfast and continued on their way. Troy noticed it had gotten colder and the sky had darkened. Still, he kept on going. He noted from his forest service maps that he was traversing a trail similar to what Fremont and Kit Carson traveled 178 years ago when they were exploring California. The area had not changed much since then. The darkened sky and the rough terrain made progress very slow. Before they had gotten very far, it began to snow. Not just a light dusting but a heavy snow that frequently happens in the Sierras.

Troy said to Whiskey, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

Because they were in the middle of nowhere, they had to continue on. The trail was extremely steep, and the path was slippery from the snow, even for a Four Wheel Drive. At a sharp turn, the vehicle lost traction and turned over. Both Troy and Whiskey fell out of the Range Rover. However, the vehicle kept sliding down the steep terrain and did not stop until it slid into a gulley several hundred feet below Troy. During the slide, the supplies fell out and scattered everywhere.

Initially stunned by the accident, Troy did not move for some time until Whiskey came over to lick his face. By that time, it was snowing heavily, and it was dark. Luckily, Troy had a heavy coat on, but he could not see where the vehicle had landed, and he did not have a flashlight with him. 

Troy moaned to Whiskey, “We are in trouble now. I can’t see the Range Rover, and we have to get shelter until morning.”

They moved to a rare clump of trees to get out of the wrath of the storm. There, they huddled together to keep warm until morning. In the morning, they searched for the overturned vehicle. The ground was completely white with no landmarks. Without snowshoes, it was difficult to climb down to the Range Rover. Troy sprained his ankle trying to climb down. The car was buried in the snow, and there was no way Troy could upturn the 5000-pound vehicle. Most of the supplies were scattered and buried in the snow. Troy thought to himself, I’m not going to find anything until the spring thaw. Still, he had to find some food and water and hopefully the flares. He searched for hours and only found a little food. and his cell phone. For water, he thought he and Whiskey could eat the snow. 

Now he had to decide what to do. Stay with the vehicle or try to travel to get help somewhere. The Range Rover was in a gulley and hard to spot from the trail or from the air. But the nearest towns were ghost towns, Fletcher and Aurora. The nearest ranger station was in Bodie, nearly 20 miles away, in the snow, and with a sprained ankle. For now, he would stay with the car. He and Whiskey ate some food. 

The next day, he saw an airplane flying over the area. He got up and tried to flag down the aircraft by screaming and jumping up and down, but that did no good; the airplane flying at several thousand feet did not see him. He stayed another night and hoped that another airplane would fly by. But he had no way to signal the aircraft, and his cell phone was useless in this area of no cell towers. Then he remembered the phone had a reflective surface. During the day, he noted that if he held it right it would reflect the sun. He continued to stay with the car and hoped for another chance with a passing airplane. A few days later, an airplane fly overhead. He tried to signal it with the cell phone, but the pilot was not looking down and did not see him. 

“So, what should we do, Whiskey? I guess we will have to find help.”

Troy made a splint for his ankle. He made snowshoes out of the car’s mudflaps and gathered the food, and moved in the direction they thought was Aurora and Bodie. It was rough going, but at least it had stopped snowing. They would go a few miles and then stop and camp near some trees to stay out of the wind. After a few days, they made it to the ghost town of Aurora, hoping they might run into a ranger or off roader. But it was now October, and most of the tourists and off roaders had gone for the year. They found shelter in the Aurora Stable, but no one came by. They were running out of food, and Troy’s ankle could not handle another trip. Thinking of the TV series Lassie, Troy said to Whiskey, “Boy, you are my only hope; go find help.” 

Unfortunately, Whiskey did not want to leave his master. Troy had to coax him 5 times before he would leave. Bodie was less than ten miles away, down a gravelly road. Troy hoped his dog would make it there and get help from the rangers. Whiskey trialed and errored his way down the road to Bodie. The rangers found him and remembered he had been with an off-roader who said he was going to Elbow and Nine Mile House. They checked that way and found the Range Rover, but not Troy. By now, it had snowed again and covered his tracks. They did not think to look in Aurora.

Several months later, in the spring, a pair of off-roaders ventured into the ghost town of Aurora. They explored what was left of the town. Joe looked around the stable and walked in.

“Larry, there seems to be recent ghosts in town.”

Larry walked in and said, “Looks like he died this year.”

They went through his pockets and found his driver’s license,

Troy Smith. They notified the rangers. The rangers tried to notify his family, but no one claimed the body, so he was buried in the preserved Aurora cemetery. 

His tombstone read: Troy Smith, an adventurer.

Fred Klein is the author of the novel Memoirs of a Road Warrior. He is a member of the Southern California Writers Association, O.C. Writers, and the Historical Novel Society. Ten of his short stories have been published in various journals.