I don’t usually follow stories like that of the Kim family’s tragic rescue, if only because they tend to serve as macabre entertainment fodder to drive newspaper sales and television ratings. In fact, I think the last time I paid as close attention to a story like this was in 1992, when a couple of young Bay Area parents, Jim and Jennifer Stolpa, got themselves and their baby stuck miles from nowhere in deep snow near the ghost town of Vya, Nevada. I don’t know why the story of the Kim family caught my interest. Perhaps it’s because of my gut feeling that I almost certainly share at least one mutual acquaintance with James Kim, as he worked in publishing in the Bay Area. Whatever reason, I followed the story. I was relieved when Kati and the Kims’ children were rescued, and stricken when reports surfaced that James Kim’s body had been found.
This tragedy was one hundred percent avoidable. At several points during the family’s ordeal, decisions were made that markedly increased the likelihood of a sad ending.
CRN’s readership demographics being what they are, it’s a safe bet that someone reading this post will someday find him- or herself in an equivalent situation. When I had my car accident a few years back, one of the first things I did while hanging upside down in the driver’s seat of my late Nissan pickup was to turn off the engine, and the reason I did so was not because it made sense, but because in my literally rattled state the first thing that came to mind was an old Shell commercial that said “the first thing you should do in a car accident is turn off the engine.” Hopefully… well, hopefully none of you will ever get unpleasantly stranded. But if you do, perhaps this post will come to mind the way that commercial did for me.
Here, then, are a few things to commit to memory before you get yourself stranded.
1) Mapquest sucks. Same goes for Google Maps. Oh, they’ll get you to a restaurant across town fairly well, or show you the fastest way between major cities. But when your trip involves following the little one-pixel gray lines without markers on the mapquest sheet you printed out, it’s time to find a gas station and ask directions instead. This is especially true west of the 100th Meridian, though a good winter storm can make a pleasant paved Vermont lane as isolated as any Mojave desert two-rut. Use real maps. DeLorme has gazetteers of all 50 states with a scale for most of them at five miles or less to the inch, twenty bucks a state. I take the editions for California, Nevada, Utah and Arizona with me on all desert trips, unless I’m certain I’m sticking to routes I know. And even excellent maps like DeLorme’s are tricky when you get to backroad granularity. There’s a faint cow path that follows gravel washes in the Arizona Strip on which I once set confidently out, reassured by the solid red line in the gazetteer. If a five mile to the inch atlas with locations of individual petroglyphs marked on it can steer you wrong on the backroads, then Mapquest just might kill you. Disregard the online maps once you get off the limited access highways. Especially if you have failed to print them out on non-porous stock with non-water-soluble ink. A smudge from snowmelt or forehead sweat can wash out the information you need to get home.
2) Take stuff with you. Hikers of a certain age will be able to recite to you the Ten Essentials, things you should have in your daypack for even the shortest wildland hikes. Another couple recently spent five cold, hungry nights in a rugged Bay Area park, an experience they would have been avoided had they carried just two of the Ten Essentials. That said, I’m guilty of ignoring some of them, notably the pocketknife, firestarter, and sometimes the flashlight. (Also water, sometimes, as long-term CRN readers will remember.) I fail to take matches and firestarter on Mount Diablo climbs because they add weight and it’s only a few miles back to the truck. Both of those excuses are silly ones, and I should know better. By extension of the concept, there’s no reason not to keep at least the Ten Essentials in your car at all times. You don’t have to go quite as far as I did with my late lamented Nissan pickemup: that truck had a lockable shell on the bed, and I stored enough camping equipment and food and fuel back there that I’d have been somewhat comfortable getting stranded for two weeks, longer if there was fresh water nearby. But if you venture away from populated areas, a cheap backpacking stove and a week’s worth of fuel, a lean few days’ worth of non-perishable (and non-tempting in non-emergencies) food, a couple blankets and a box of waterproof matches stowed in the car can make the difference between tragedy and an amusing story to be retold and embellished over the years. And when you get home, consider leaving that stuff in the car for next time.
After you get stranded:
3) Stay with the vehicle.
4) Stay with the vehicle.
5) Stay with the vehicle.
6) Do not leave your vehicle. Unless, that is, it’s on fire, in which case you should retreat a safe distance. A vehicle provides shelter from cold and wind and precipitation and a source of greenhouse heat for people stuck in the snow, and a large shadow-casting object for you summer desert strandees. Just as importantly, your vehicle is ten or twenty times your size and made of presumably shiny metal and glass. Even an old, dented, bondoed, Earl-Scheib-repainted rusted-out El Camino will be orders of magnitude shinier than you are. Size and shininess mean greater visibility from the air, which is especially important when the Search and Rescue folks have to look for you through thick forest cover. Clearly, in many stranding situations walking out is a sensible thing to do. If you see a building, for instance, or if the weather is good and you are confident of your location and in sufficiently good physical condition to walk to your known destination (the gas station you passed eight miles back, f’rinstance) and back without taxing your reserves too much. If you are at all in doubt, stay with the vehicle. Kati Kim and her children stayed with their car, and they survived. James Kim walked away with the best and most noble and heroic of intentions, and he died. Whether you’re in the mountain snow, in rainy forest, miles off the pavement in the desert, or plunged off an ocean cliff: stay with the goddamn vehicle.
7) If you must walk away from your vehicle, stay on the road. Do not take tempting shortcuts across hills or mountain ranges. Do not reason that there must be houses downstream (as James Kim did, was reported to have done at first, though as more information reached the press it became obvious that he was misled by a cheap offline map heading into one of the most rugged and least-populated pieces of real estate in the lower 48) or that the power lines are likely to get you to help sooner than the road will. Odds are, the road is where it is for a reason, to wit: getting people from one populated area to the next on the shortest feasible path using the least-steep and obstructed path possible. Think of it this way: you’re looking for a house or a 7/11 or even just a barn to give you a bit more shelter than your El Camino. Is that destination more likely to be down an impossibly steep ravine, or along a road? Roads will generally not lead you to impassable cliffs or impenetrable thickets or unswimmable rapids, and if they do then you turn around and head in the opposite direction. Perhaps most importantly, nearby roads are where the search and rescue people will look first, perhaps finding you without even getting out of their F-250s. From the air, roads usually provide a break in overhead cover through which the helicopter pilot can see you. In open country such as deserts, roads are broad swathes of a uniform color against which you will stand out more distinctly even from a few thousand feet up.
In 1992, Jim Stolpa left his wife and baby huddled in a snow cave to keep as close to warm as possible and struggled back the way they’d come along that desolate road in Northern Nevada. He was found, in a fortunate fluke, by a local who was out cross-country skiing along the closed road. Stolpa’s decision to stick to the road saved him and his family. Leaving the road was James Kim’s final mistake, as valiant as his intent certainly was. From the San Francisco Chronicle’s story:
Had Kim known to continue down the logging road from where the car stopped, he soon would have come to a fishing and rafting resort known as Black Bar Lodge. It was vacant for the winter, but rescuers checked it several times[.]
[Added later: The news is reporting that Kim’s footprints were followed by those of a bear: Kim may have felt no choice but to leave the road. Still a bad decision, much like many we’ve all made under duress.]
James Kim’s daughters didn’t need to grow up without their father. If there is anything at all that can be salvaged from this tragedy, aside from news stories of a man who loved his family so much he risked his life for them, it is this: remember him well and do not repeat his sincere but unnecessary sacrifice.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Categories:
Recommended
Desert
Travel
Hiking
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