It was early afternoon and we had accomplished the first goal of the day, a delightful hike up Little Baldy in Sequoia National Park.  Rather than a hike at a lower elevation as originally planned, we opted for something higher to escape the heat and were rewarded with cool temps and spectacular panoramic views of the Sierras.  Now we were in search of lunch and the Christian Camp at Lake Hume was the most promising option.  Windows down and soaking in the intoxicating mountain air, we were driving along the western edge of the lake when a frantic young man flagged us down.

Wearing only white swimming trunks he ran in front of the car, “Do you have a cell phone?  I need to call 911!”  Of course I did have my phone, but there was no service.  We asked what he needed.  He blurted out his friend was drowning.  He had just slipped below the surface and they could not locate him.  We told him to wait right there and we would drive and get help.   It wasn’t more than a quarter mile to the camp center and I immediately flagged down two maintenance guys loading up a truck.  “Do you have a radio?  Someone is drowning!  They need help!”  One of them ran off to get a lifeguard.  A moment later 3 park ranger vehicles drove by with lights flashing.  Someone else had obviously raised the alarm.  I jumped into the car and we raced back to scene.

But to our horror, when we got back, no one was there!  The young man had returned to lake to help with the search, so the rangers not knowing where to stop simply drove past the scene and were headed off in the wrong direction.  I left my wife there and told her to flag down the trucks if they returned.  I drove back to get help, again.  This time I found a lifeguard with a radio.  Before I said anything, he asked me if I knew about a drowning.  I told him I did and my wife was waiting at the scene to guide in the emergency crew.  I explained to him exactly where to find the incident.   He promised to send help.  I asked, “Are you sure?  You’ve got this?”  He insisted he would get help.  I sped off back to the scene.

When I returned the second time there was no one there but my wife.  I pulled over to wait with her.  In the lake, about 50 yards down from the road we could see some had organized themselves to search for the missing swimmer.  A young man was barking out commands to about 6 other swimmers.  They were in a line and simultaneously dove down and scoured the lake bottom.  They resurfaced and repeated the process again and again. Someone on a paddleboard was going down the shoreline calling out a name just incase he had surfaced at another spot.  While we waited another young man walking away from the lake said it was too much for him to handle.  He had seen a group of about 4 young guys horsing around, when one panicked and then slipped under the water.

I wasn’t watching the time, but it felt like 10 minutes before the first emergency responders arrived.  A group of rangers pulled up in their trucks and immediately ran down to the water’s edge.  Then the firemen arrived and followed by more rangers.  Then the ambulance and Camp Security arrived.   But it didn’t seem like they knew what do.  Where to start looking?  Actually there really wasn’t much they could do.

One ranger took two of the boys involved back to her truck next to where we were standing.  She began to ask them questions.  One of them began to sob. The other did his best to answer questions about their lost companion – his name, where he was from.  He kept asking if he could use her phone, but she just kept asking questions.  She was firm but very calm and tender in the way she treated to him.  Then she asked had they consumed any alcohol?  His responses were all over the map.  First he insisted they had no more than 8 beers each.  Then it was definitely less than 6 bottles.  She tried to console him and assured him it was not illegal to be drinking.  She just needed to know.  They had eaten lots of food implying the effect of all that alcohol was negligible.  He kept insisting they were not drunk.  But you could feel the weight of the tragedy begin to set in.  The panic of looking for help was quickly turning to the sober realization that their friend was gone.  He was dead, submerged somewhere nearby at the bottom of the lake.  And although not malicious, in some way they were partially responsible.  And they knew it.  Who was going to call his parents?  How long would it take to find him?

She told them the divers were on their way and would search for the missing young man.  My attention then returned to the lake.  A fireman had brought out a long metal pole, hooked at the end like a giant coat hanger.   I’d never seen anything like it but I immediately knew its purpose.   At that point I decided I didn’t really want to have the image in my head of a pale lifeless body being pulled from the lake.  My wife turned to one of the young men being questioned and asked if there was anything we could do.  Still weeping, he said no, and then staggered back to the water’s edge.  We climbed back in our car and drove off.  There was really nothing else for us to do.

From there we drove to the very end of Kings Canyon.  It is quite a lovely drive with breathtaking views.  But we were both stunned by what we had just experienced.  We talked a bit, but the mood had changed.  After a lovely, if sober, hike through Zumwalt’s Meadow we headed back up and out of the Canyon.  We both decided to go back to the lake to see if they had made any progress with the search.  It was sunset and the lake itself was the picture of tranquility.   All the swimmers and boats were gone.  A few ducks disturbed the glassy smooth surface.  Families and kids were strolling about on a perfect summer evening, the longest of the year.  A handful of emergency personnel milling around the snack bar were the only sign of what had happened.

Someone told my wife it took about an hour for divers to find the drowned young man.  We were glad that he had been recovered.  But while this idyllic summer scene was playing out all around us, somewhere in the Central Valley a family was coming to grips with the realization that their son would never return.  What was supposed to be a fun weekend jaunt to Lake Hume had turned to tragedy.  And on this Father’s Day, that young man’s dad would be experiencing a father’s worst nightmare.