Backpacker

We learn that a helicopter is on the way; the search leaders downin Bishop want us to return to help identify more of Pops’s clothingand understand his backcountry habits. They also need access to his carfor scent articles so they can deploy dog teams. It sounds plausible butI’m suspicious. Perhaps they want us out of the way of the professionalsearchers. Looking for Pops myself—instead of waiting for word fromothers—has so far saved me from becoming a total wreck.The flight down to Bishop takes barely 10 minutes, but it’s a rev-elation. A dozen lakes you can’t see from the trail parade by in rapidsuccession. I think of how Pops would love to be in the seat betweenTim and me. He has spent so much time exploring this valley; hewould be fascinated by the view of it from the air.At the landing pad in Bishop, a Park Service employee namedJessica, who is coordinating the search efforts, suggests we get lunchat the airport restaurant while she arranges a conference call with thesearch leaders. Just then, our lifelong buddies Steve and Danny showup. They’ve known Pops since we were kids. After hearing the news,they decided to drive up and help the search.We’re drinking sodas, chatting with them, and waiting for foodwhen I’m overwhelmed by the absurdity of relaxing and enjoying ahot lunch while Pops could still be alive and in trouble. I head over tothe ranger office and ask Jessica to get the conference call organized.We wait for the longest 15 minutes of my life.After half an hour of answering questions about Pops, I get the offi-cials on the line to promise that they’ll helicopter me and one otherperson back into the wilderness at the end of the call. I will regret notgetting names to hold accountable.We decide that Tim will stay behind and help with the search fromthe Bishop office, and that Danny will go up the mountain with meto continue searching the high country. That’s when the higher-upsrenege on the helicopter ride, and we’re forced to accept Jessica’s offerto drive us back to the trailhead.I’m deeply annoyed by the setback. We’ll have to hike back up to thealpine zone to resume the search. During the 20-minute drive, I letthe scenery take my mind off the frustration. I remember making thissame trip many times as a kid. After breakfast in Bishop, we wouldpile back into the car and Pops would steer us upward, from the wideOwens River Valley to the base of the high peaks. This time of year,aspens along the South Fork Bishop Creek glow a vibrant yellow.The road dead ends at South Lake, already close to treeline, but itstill takes more than four hours to climb back to Bishop Pass. The alti-tude slows Danny, just as it did Tim and I on the first day. We makecamp well after dark, but I’m glad to be back in the wilderness. Welost two people searching for more than half a day. What might havebeen missed?Day 5: FridayThe hike to Thunderbolt Pass is easier than the first route we tried,but it’s off-trail, and still slow and difficult going. We navigate across2 miles of talus; it feels more like 12. The extreme angle means anymisstep could lead to a long tumble.On Thunderbolt Pass, we meet five different SAR teams, three ofwhich came up from Barrett Lakes and the surrounding PalisadeBasin, where search efforts are concentrated. This area has likelynever seen so many people at once, and I can’t help but think howPops would be appalled by the hordes.By his own admission, Pops is a shy person. As a butcher, he washappy to work out of sight in the refrigerated confines of the super-market’s meat department. However, his work ethic earned himpromotions, and in the new roles he needed to engage more with cus-tomers. When I was in high school, he helped me land a job as a boxboy, and I would sneak up and surprise him as he chatted with people.Watching him, you wouldn’t have known he was shy at heart. But forPops, I always knew that the greatest appeal of the backcountry wasthe solitude.Danny and I eat lunch at the pass with the other searchers. Seeingall of them gathered in one spot like this, and hearing about all theother teams spread across the area, starts to crack something insideof me. Too many days have gone by, too many teams have looked intoo many places. Pops is gone.I don’t know why, but the realization makes me tell Danny thatif Pops had a mean bone in his body, I never saw it in five decades.Danny hugs me and I cry for the first time.When we return to camp, I know what I want to do. I will makethe trek to my Pops’s last campsite at Barrett Lakes, where I willcamp exactly one week after he did. I tell Danny that I need sometime alone to memorialize my father and that he should head hometo his family. I help him pack his gear and watch him disappeardown the hill.For the first time on this trip I am alone. Another round of sobbinghits me. The Tim McGraw song “Humble and Kind” has been stuck inmy head since Pops went missing, and now I listen to it on my phone.I know you got mountains to climb but always stay humble and kind.It brings comfort as I reflect on how lucky I am that the most humbleand kind person I know is my father.As an adult, I became keenly aware of his character when I wentinto real estate at the same time Pops retired from his career as abutcher. He started his own handyman business, and from the begin-ning just about all of my clients used Pops. Over the last decade, hespent more time with them than I did. Many of these customers are74 10.2017