Trinity

by Josh Jamieson

It was the summer before my sophomore year when I finally got to accompany my buddies Alex and James on their yearly trip to the Trinity Alps in Northern California. Alex and James were both big outdoors types; I however, was not. I was a city boy, born and bred to feel comfortable on the hot asphalt. I wasn’t agoraphobic, but I had never even really been camping except for when I was a little kid, and I was completely unprepared for the raw, natural, beauty that lay secreted away in places like Trinity.

After two straight hours of winding mountain roads I was eager to get out of the car when we finally got to the cabin. But the minute I opened the door I knew something was different. The air was thick and crisp and I was drinking it in rather than breathing it. There was no hint of car fumes or burned rubber that I had become so used to in Berkeley. It felt like I had landed on an entirely new planet.

The whole place was actually quite unnerving for me. I felt as if I would be swallowed up by the unending wilderness of tall pine trees if I took one step outside the cabin enclosure. The lack of traffic noise made it so every snap of a twig echoed throughout the forest and made me jump a mile. My breathing had already begun to quicken as the three of us walked along the path toward the main cabin. As James and Alex laughed and joked I struggled to keep from covering my face with my hands.

Once the cabin door closed behind me I breathed an immense sigh of relief. The cabin had all the conveniences of any new age suburban home; a flat screen TV, a microwave, a stainless steel refrigerator, you name it. I instantly felt my heart rate drop and my breathing began to slow. For a few minutes I felt as if I was back in the good old city, surrounded by drug stores and shopping malls and all the other comforts that I had become so used to.

But the feeling of comfort was only fleeting. The second the three of us had settled into our room and thrown sleeping bags on our bunk beds, James grabbed his backpack and said Enthusiastically:

“Okay guys, grab your stuff. We’re going on a hike down the river so we can swim in Lake Trinity while its still daylight.” Before I could stop myself my jaw dropped all the way to floor.

“We’re going outside already?”

“Of Course dude. We’ve already been sitting on our asses here for like 20 minutes. Let’s get this shit started right?” Alex laughed and slapped James high five. “Get your gear together, Josh, we gotta move!” And the two of them swung their rucksacks up with practiced ease and strolled out the door.

I hastily stuffed my bathing suit, water bottle, and towel into my bag and hurried after them shouting: “Wait up guys!” like some tag along little brother. I must admit that I was seriously starting to feel like one at that point.

Our hike took us along a large stream as it wound its way through the mountain. According to James, our master of direction, the stream was supposed to flow into Lake Trinity about four miles downstream. This didn’t strike me as such a huge distance because usually run ten miles every day for soccer. But I didn’t take into account the fact that running across cement in high tech running shoes is a lot easier than traversing four miles of fast moving water over jagged rocks, wearing only a pair of flip flops.

Even my seemingly invincible companions were having the same amount of trouble that I was. The hours we spent slogging through the freezing cold water were punctuated my each of us periodically slipping on the moss slick stones and being carried bodily downstream, head over heels. But on we went, unperturbed by the copious amount of blood that was now dripping from our elbows and knees.

After what seemed like several more hours, I was sure that we were nearing our destination. I spoke up finally,

“James, we’re getting close right? I’m pretty sure the water’s starting to move faster. Doesn’t that mean it’s about to hit the lake?”

“We should still have about another mile to go.” He answered. “But your right, the pace of the stream has picked up. There’s gotta be some kind of drop off up ahead”. And sure enough, 50 feet downstream we found an enormous waterfall. Straight out of National Geographic, this sheer drop plummeted what looked like thirty feet into a clear blue pool with white rapids frothing on its surface. Taken aback by the sight of it, I could scarcely believe what my friend James said next

“Wow we should defiantly jump off this one”

“What?! Are you joking, dude? That’s like a thousand feet” I sputtered incoherently

“Naw it looks deep enough. Stop being a woman, Josh.” He laughed. “You ready Alex?” and both of them leapt off the precipice with smiles on their faces, leaving me alone staring out into the abyss.

There was no way I was jumping off. With my luck I would hit a rock and end my soccer career forever. But the sound of their laughter from down below hit my like a slap in the face. I had to do it; I would not be outdone and conquered by this new world. I closed my eyes, and jumped over the edge.

The fall only lasted a second. The wind whistling through my ears was silenced by the deep splash of cool, fresh, water. I came up out of the water with a smile so wide that it stretched all the way back to Berkeley and saw how boring it really was in the dirty city.

After that, the old Josh that was scared of a few trees was gone. Suddenly I loved the whole place down to the very last overly large bug. The 20 mile bike trips, and mountain climbs through the scorching sun became like some kind of super- addictive drug that I could not get enough of. I could not get over the feeling of conquering the elements every time I was out in the thick of it, finally keeping up with my two best friends in the whole world.

Towards the end of our trip, the three of us were mountain biking on a narrow downhill slope that dropped steeply of to one side to a dry streambed about twenty feet below. Usually such a precarious situation in the middle of the wilderness with no hospital for miles around would have definitely tripped every panic switch in my body; but my newfound feeling of confidence with the elements made it feel completely exhilarating. I took the lead, followed by James, and then Alex; and the three of us flew down the mud slick slope at break neck speed.

Suddenly I heard the sound of skidding tires from behind and I turned around ust in time to see Alex slide right over the edge of the trail. He plummeted straight down to the dry streambed below and landed on the smooth stones with a loud crunch.

“Holy Shit, he just went straight over!” I exclaimed, slamming on my brakes. James was already hurrying back to the spot where Alex had fallen. He shouted down the slope:

“Alex! Are you alright? Are you Conscious?” A muffled groan came up from below. From on top looking down it seemed as Alex’s limbs were completely entangled with what was left of the bike.

“Let’s Get down there”, I said. And James and I slid down the steep ledge all the way to the bottom. Once we were able to separate him from the bike, we were relieved to find that, although quite shaken, Alex’s injuries were only superficial. But there was still the issue of getting back to the cabin. We still had another good ten miles to ride and Alex’s bike was severely battered. Both wheels had been considerably warped by the impact and the frame looked like it was on the verge of collapse.

Being the most experienced rider, I volunteered to ride the wounded bike home. The problem was that the warped wheels made it so that the brakes would have to be disengaged so that the wheels could turn. This meant that I would have to make it all the way down the mountain with no way of stopping.

The whole ride down was one of the scariest things I have ever done in my life. As the rickety bike careened down the muddy slope, I could do little more than hold on for dear life. But I somehow managed to survive until we made it back to the main, flat, paved road, and I could finally breathe again.

But honestly now that I look back on it, those few adrenaline-filled miles were actually amazingly fun. I guess it was my newfound joy in the extreme version of outdoor life. Trust me, once it takes hold of you, it’s just like some kind of drug.

When we finally packed all our stuff up into the van and started the long drive home, I took a good look at myself for the first time since the start of the trip. I was covered in cuts and bruises. And my skin maintained a thin layer of hardened mud and dirt that no amount of scrubbing could take off. But I was happy; happy as hell that I had gone and done something new and conquered it.

I was glad to be going home though. All that trekking through the wilderness really does take its toll on a person. And I was definitely ready to get back to my warm cozy house in the middle of the city with the grocery store right around the corner. But every summer since seventh grade I’ve headed back up to Trinity with James and Alex to get just one more taste of life in the beautiful outdoors.