Lost Hiker: Alone in the Desert
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Joshua Tree National Park in Southern California. A relentless mid-afternoon sun hangs malevolently over the Mojave Desert. The desolate scrubland is devoid of vegetation save for the occasional yucca palm or Joshua trees, as they're better known. The Spanish had another name for them: "Bizotes de Desierto" - Desert Daggers. Today, as he staggers through the haze, dripping with sweat, delirious and dehydrated,

64-year-old Ed Rosenthal can see why. The palms jut up, knife-like out of the ground. Their thin, spiny fronds and needle-covered trunks offer precious little shade. Ed wipes his face. He's beyond exhausted. It's been over 48 hours since he last saw another hiker, since he last knew his location, and since he first realized he was lost. Ed stumbles down another dried-out riverbed and descends into yet another canyon.

He steadies himself against the tall sandstone walls. He's just considering how long he has before the sun catches up with him. When he spies a narrow opening up ahead, he limps over to it. It's a crevasse, and it offers proper shade. It was so unbelievably hot. It was all, everything was pretty much white hot. I headed for that opening. I got inside and

pretty much collapsed, happy to be there and get in there. I was already limping and couldn't really walk well by that time, but I did find that place to stay. Lying on the cool sand within, Ed gingerly touches his sunburnt arms. His legs are an even worse shape, crisscrossed with lacerations. He will call this place Salvation Canyon, even though deep down,

he knows it's where he's likely to die ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes if your life depended on your next decision did you make the right choice welcome to real survival stories these are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations people suddenly forced to fight for their lives in this episode we meet ed rosenthal he's a 64 year old los angeles real estate broker and a keen hiker

One afternoon in September 2010, Ed is out walking his favorite route, when a small lapse in concentration nearly costs him his life. One wrong turn sends him on a mind-altering march across a pitiless landscape as he is drawn deeper and deeper into the desert. Where you're going is like into hell. Extreme heat, exhaustion,

and the light, intense light in your face from the sun. I was ready to die there in the desert. I was ready to just become part of the Mojave. Yet even as the outlook gets ever bleaker, there's still the faintest thought that help could be just around the corner, through the next canyon, over the next slope, until ultimately Ed must answer a terrifying question. In stumbling ever onwards, is he any closer to salvation?

or is he just going round in circles i'm john hopkins from noisa this is real survival stories friday september 24 2010 southern california ed rosenthal is rolling along route 62. receding in his rear view mirror is the town of desert hot springs where he's staying in a hotel glancing to the west he can just make out the snow-capped peaks of the san bernardino mountain range

Their pine-covered slopes, sparkling waterfalls, and forest trails are heaven for most hikers looking to escape Los Angeles. But not Ed. He loves the outdoors, but it's a different kind of landscape that calls to him. As he turns north, the vegetation dwindles. The sun-baked hills give way to arid scrubland. Finally, the vast expanse of the Mojave Desert is revealed. Even the derelict storefronts lining his route seem to underline nature's message to outsiders.

But life is hard out here, not to be taken for granted. This isn't lost on Ed. He's done this drive multiple times before and always respects the elements. Ed isn't just a successful real estate broker. He's also a poet and social campaigner. He writes about homelessness and housing issues in classical verse. Real estate is a high pressure environment. After sealing a big deal, aside from writing poetry, Ed loves nothing more than to flee the city.

His favorite place to go is Joshua Tree National Park, 150 miles east of LA. Once there, the first thing he always does is to hike up to Warren Peak. I always took the opportunity to separate from the real estate and go on this hike. And this had become my regular hike since 1992.

And over that 18-year period, I hiked that same exact hike possibly 10 times without any incident. On this occasion, Ed plans to make the most of a long weekend. His wife, Nicole, isn't expecting him home until Monday. He has three whole days to commune with the rugged California wilderness. And he can't wait to get going. But as he approaches the turn off to Black Rock Canyon Campground,

He can't help glancing at the digital temperature readout on the car dashboard. Before he left, Nicole had warned him that a major heat wave was forecast. She had told me, "Maybe it's not such a good idea for you to head out on this same hike." And I said, "Well, no, it's the same one I always do, and it won't be any problem, and I'll just go."

She had warned me about high temperatures in the desert and I, you know, I kind of just pushed it out of my mind. To make matters worse, Ed is running late, two hours behind schedule, which means he'll now be hiking right in the middle of the day. In his hurry to get out the door, he's also skipped breakfast, except for a glass of juice. Walking on an empty stomach isn't ideal, but this will only be a short excursion and he has enough food and water in his rucksack to get by.

Ed joins the line of traffic waiting for the car park. He wants to get cracking as soon as possible, before the trails get too crowded. When I got there, the rangers were not there, but for some reason the entire park was crowded.

and I looked for a space and some elderly gentleman showed me, "You can park there, that's where day hikers go." And I parked in the spot he told me and I pretty much just rushed off to start the hike. Stepping out of the cool air-conditioned car, the desert air hits Ed hard. He moves to the rear of the vehicle and pops the trunk.

Retrieving his bright orange rucksack, he pauses for a second to look at his neatly ordered stash of gear. Batteries, compass, water purifier, energy bars. There are some additional water bottles that he could take. He considers the extra weight, before deciding one water bag should be plenty. The heat will make the going tough, but it's only five and a half miles, nothing he can't handle.

I neglected to take any extra protective clothing and I just went in my shirt sleeve without a jacket expecting, you know, a three-hour hike. I had no idea what was about to happen and I was just rushing off to go up to my viewpoint to see San Jacinto, the mountain, which means a lot to me, and then to turn around and go back and relax

It's close to 1pm as Ed sets off. Before long he reaches the beginning of the Warren Peak trailhead. But then something strange happens. Something that suggests this hike will be different to previous ones. When I started the hike, which had never happened before, a coyote just stood right in front of me and stuck his face, just stood there staring and stuck his face right in my face.

for quite a few minutes and then finally turned around and left. That was very unusual. I don't know whether your followers are interested in signals from the universe. That was one that was unusual. He watches the coyote scamper away, vanishing into the scrub. If it is an omen of some kind, but now its meaning is unclear.

Ed takes a sip of water from the plastic tube protruding from his backpack and steps back onto the track. The road starts out in a kind of pebbled, what was a riverbed, and you proceed slowly at first up through this pebbled path and, you know, there's grasses alongside of you and the trail gradually starts to climb.

And then you reach a series of dried out hills. And then you start to come up into forested area where it's more wooded. It's 2 p.m. After an hour of hard climbing, Ed has reached a portion of the trail that's lined by prickly pears with purple blossoms. There are also plenty of spiky succulents, the famous Joshua trees.

The story goes that these unusual palms with their outstretched limbs once helped guide early Mormon settlers safely through the desert. They reminded them of Joshua pointing the Israelites towards the Promised Land. Ed too pushes on. At around 2:30 pm, he comes to the final fork in the path. He's approaching Warren Peak now, the halfway point in his hike.

For this stretch, the trail peters out. It emerges from the wooded area, but soon becomes indistinguishable from the surrounding scrub. But Ed knows the way. He keeps heading up the incline. Then, just minutes from his goal, the glorious silence is suddenly shattered by a shrill ringing. It's his phone. Irritated, he has to stop. He fumbles to find it. It's a colleague trying to get hold of him.

He hesitates and puts the phone back in his pocket and lets it go to voicemail. He's here to get away from work. With one final push, Ed reaches the Warren Peak summit. The sweat is now pouring off him, but the view is glorious. To the north, the Mojave Desert stretches to the horizon. To the south, the rolling hills of the Coachella Valley. And beyond that, looming 10,000 feet out of the desert, is Mount San Jacinto.

Ed flops down to enjoy his picnic and take a well-earned break. I went up there and sat down and I felt great. I ate my lunch and I witnessed San Jacinto, which is just gorgeous. It was hot, but I wasn't worried about it. And after a few minutes of enjoyment, I came down off of my viewpoint.

And then that's when the trouble started.

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But as he starts the descent, his boots slip on loose rocks and he almost falls. The terrain isn't as firm underfoot as he remembers. It's steeper too. Something doesn't feel right. He casts around, searching for the trail. He can't see it. If only he hadn't been distracted by his phone on the way up. That's coming back to bite him now. I started heading down and I noticed that there were no footprints to follow.

I had gone up in a hurry and when I started to return, I saw that there was no trace at all of any of my tracks and any of my movement in these like knee-high grasses that filled the area. Then, with a sickening jolt, he remembers a previous trip to Warren Peak.

maybe two visits earlier, I had been with a bunch of locals and one of them, who was a military type, was making fun of the others

that they didn't even know their way around and he didn't want to lose them and have to report to their mother that they were absent. So I got afraid because then I realized, oh, now I remember that those were locals that grew up in this area and they were having trouble, you know, getting back and forth from the viewpoint. And I got nervous and I, you know, did my best to try to remember, well,

Can I find the viewpoint that I went to with those guys? Will that help me? And I couldn't. It's nearly 4 p.m. now, and the afternoon heat is getting brutal. Ed should be well on his way back to his car. Instead, he's still scrambling around the Warren Peak summit, still scouring the scrub for a footpath. I was getting nervous, but I didn't quite realize how serious it was. I thought...

On the way here, I saw a sign that said West Trail. And then I became obsessed with trying to find this West Trail sign. And I looked all over around the viewpoint, going back up and could not find it. He can't stay on this summit forever. If he can't find the way out, he at least needs to find shade. So when Ed sees a possible route down, he decides to go for it.

I looked over the edge of where I was. I was at a precipice and I could look down below and I saw a trail. So I got all excited. That must be the trail. And if I can only, I'll have to just jump down there. And I ended up jumping down. And that was the decisive moment where once I jumped down, I saw, oh, I can't get back up.

At all. Dropping down seven or eight feet, his landing is cushioned by his rucksack. Now, at the bottom of the vertical rock face, his only option is to keep descending. It's not long before Ed recognizes that he's in serious trouble. He's completely lost his bearings now, and he hasn't got a map. It won't be long before the sun sets, and although the thought of cool evening air is wonderful, the idea of spending the night in the desert is not.

That said, while Ed is no survivalist, he is a seasoned hiker, and he prides himself on being well-prepared. He may be traveling light, but the pack on his back does contain plenty of useful gear, the kind you'd hope never to have to use. An emergency thermal blanket, a head torch, a length of rope, a whistle, matches, a fire lighter, and a first aid kit. Also some dried fruit, but right now, he'd trade them all for a glass of water.

His mind drifts back to those spare water bottles in the trunk of his car, the ones he had neglected to bring. I was sweating. I was worn out. Pushing on it, I could hear a click in the water bag that that was the end of it. There was no water left, so I was already out of water. Pushing on, Ed squints at a shape in the distance. He thinks he sees a path. It could even be a trail the local cowboys use.

But as he heads that way, after a few meters, he finds himself on the edge of a sheer 15-foot drop. Walking through the knee-high grass, he very nearly missed it and stepped into thin air. He takes out his bright yellow safety rope from his pack. Apparently, this is the kind of situation he's prepared for. He looks around for an anchor point. There's a large stack of rocks nearby. It's a reassuring sign that hikers do visit this area. But tying a knot that will support his weight

is easier said than done. He tries again and again to get it secure, but it's no good. He'll have to find another way down. Ed leaves the rope by the stack of rocks as a marker. Maybe someone will come looking for him and know he was here. After an hour or so of picking his way down the steep slope, he finally arrives at the thin gravel path, the possible cowboy one. Where it will lead, he has no idea. He has little choice but to follow it.

This trail that I followed, it never ended. And I ended up on that day going so many miles thinking I was making some progress, getting closer back to where I belong, where I might find other people. And I never did. The thing was endless. And by the end of the day, I had gone forever.

possibly 16 miles in the wrong direction. I realized it when I saw that the vegetation was starting to change and you started to get more plants that might be in the southern desert. And that I realized that I had totally, I was gone the wrong way. As dusk approaches, desert sky turns a brilliant purple.

It's stunningly beautiful, but having spent hours going in the wrong direction, Ed's spirits are fading fast. Not for the first time, he checks his mobile phone. Still no signal. He tries it again anyway, dialing 911. Nothing. He stumbles on. By 7pm, he must accept that he'll be spending the night in the desert. In the Mojave, temperatures can drop well below zero at night. It'd be a grim irony to survive the scorching heat of the day

only now to freeze to death. Good job he has that emergency thermal blanket. He takes out the silvery metallic sheet. Shivering, Ed lies back and looks up at the starry canvas. Among the sparkling constellations, he makes out passenger jets crisscrossing the California night. This gives him an idea. Ed rummages in his pack once more. This time he retrieves his head torch.

Shining it onto his foil blanket, he makes three quick flashes, followed by a pause, an SOS. He repeats the sequence again and again, but it's no use. The planes are far too high to see him. He lies back down and tries to get some sleep.

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It's Saturday, September the 25th. Ed wakes before daybreak. He has survived his night in the desert, but the sun will soon return with a vengeance. He scales a small hillock and looks around. He has absolutely no idea which way to go. All he can do is guess. He picks a direction that seems to head downhill. The going's even harder than the day before. Ed's tongue feels like sandpaper and his head is pounding. He's now seriously dehydrated.

Ed's muscles are cramping and he's feeling increasingly confused and disorientated. He does still have some dates left in his rucksack, but as he tries to eat them, his mouth is too dry to swallow. He spits them out. He remembers tales of people drinking their own urine to survive. He decides to give it a go. He pulls out a collapsible plastic cup from his bag and tries to urinate in it. Raising the beaker to his lips, he grimaces, pinches his nose, and shuts his eyes.

before retching violently. He won't be trying that again. For the rest of the day, Ed walks mile after mile, one hour blurring into the next. He loses track of time and place. I had an experience of feeling like I was part of the hillside and I was being pulled up. So I was being pulled uphill alongside the clouds and everything moving up.

But then I reached an impasse of an extremely hot, blazing heat in my face, and I wasn't going anywhere. I had fooled myself to thinking I was getting somewhere, but really I was getting nowhere. Where you're going is like into hell. So I had to try to escape. I had to escape that.

Thankfully, there in the middle of the expanse of scrubland, he spies a lone pine tree. I was able to get up, pull myself up and get under that tree. And that's saved my life on the second day. Ed spends all day under the tree, adjusting his position to follow the shifting shade, trying in vain to keep out of the sun's glare. And then the rest of that day,

It just got hotter and hotter and I could look back on the stones I had passed and they were all flashing in the light. They were so hot and by the end of the day I had cleared out everything under that tree as I got closer and closer to the trunk just to stay out of the sun. Evening approaches again. It's around 36 hours since he last had a drink.

But now, thinking back, he recalls the words of a hiking friend. She had once pointed to a succulent, telling him how the plant's spiny limbs contained water, and that he should remember that should he ever find himself lost in the desert. At the time, he'd smiled at the outlandish thought. He's not smiling now. That night, tried to cut into a yucca that I found.

And I had this battle with this yucca that it won, basically. It was very difficult to get any water at all out of this plant that I had cut into. I ended up pulling out some of the fronds.

and trying to put them in my backpack thinking, "Oh, they have a little moisture in them and I'll take them with me as I try to escape this area." And that was quite an experience to see that this single plant was much stronger than I am. Whatever blades I had attached to my Swiss Army knife to try and cut into it, they had no impact and that really impressed me. He retreats back under his pine.

But as night falls and in his semi-delirious state, the tree no longer feels quite so comforting. In fact, he's finding it disturbing now. The angular branches silhouetted menacingly by a silver moon. Despite being utterly spent, Ed can't sleep. I withdrew from the tree at night

And there was an experience of, well, this tree doesn't really seem that friendly anymore at night. It's kind of turned back into like a threatening presence. Back out under the stars, Ed retrieves the safety matches from his bag and tries to light a fire. He builds a small pyramid of twigs and dry grass and strikes a match. He managed to get a small orange glow. It quickly sputters out. He pulls the thermal blanket tighter around him and shuts his eyes.

It's Sunday morning, September the 26th, Ed's third day in the desert. At first light, he resumes his battle with the yucca. Eventually, and reluctantly, it does surrender a little liquid. Better than nothing, and just enough to see him back on his feet. It's on with the endless trek. It suddenly occurs to Ed that Nicole, his wife, will be expecting him to call home today. And when he fails to make contact, she'll know something is up.

But how long would it take them to send a search party? He can't count on it. He must continue picking his way down the canyons and gullies, searching for a way out himself. At one point, he feels a sudden burst of clarity. He recognizes this landscape, and then he realizes why. Somehow I had been through this space before and found my own dates that I had spit out that I couldn't swallow.

In other words, I had gone and circled through that same space before. Staring down at the shriveled fruit, it hits him that he's been going around in circles for the past 24 hours. What felt like forward momentum was merely aimless rambling, getting him nowhere, exposing him to the heat, and using up energy. Something shifts mentally. Ed is sure now that his only hope is to seek shelter, stay put, and pray someone finds him.

It's a gamble, but what choice does he really have? I decided, okay, I have to find a place that's not cold at night and protected from the sun during the day. And that's what I set my mind to do. Ed navigates his way down yet another narrow canyon. Hugging the sandstone walls, he slinks from one sliver of shade to another.

I thought I noticed an opening in a place in these rock walls. So I headed for that opening and I was right and it could shelter me. I got inside and pretty much collapsed, happy to be there and get in there. Compared to what's outside, this deep fissure in the canyon wall is an oasis. It's maybe 50 square feet.

And though the rock does not quite converge to form a ceiling, the 20-foot high walls do provide ample shade. And standing right in the middle is a tall acacia tree with bright green leaves. He might last a few more days in here. Either way, this is where they'll find him, dead or alive. Later that afternoon, Ed has a thought. He retrieves a ballpoint pen from the pocket of his short-sleeved shirt. Looking for something to write on, he settles on his sun hat.

He starts scratching notes on the side flaps. When he fills up the space, he moves onto the crown. Then, the peak. You know, I wrote quite a bit on the hat. I told myself, well, if they don't reach me in time, at least they will find my hat and I can communicate what my family should do. Who to say hello to.

what to do financially, who to go to for money I'm owed, and so on and so forth. As well as notes regarding his estate, Ed writes funeral instructions, then final messages to his loved ones. I found that it helped me because I felt I had a connection with my family and friends through this writing on this hat. And it did help.

Afterwards, Ed settles down in the shadows of the canyon walls. He slips into an hallucinogenic state. He imagines he's back in his childhood home in New York, or with his wife and daughter in L.A. I would fall asleep, and I would believe I'm back in my normal situation. And then I'd wake up and see these walls, these, you know, high walls,

gray walls of this canyon all around me and I'd remember, oh, no, you're not. You're stuck in this desert canyon and you're nowhere near all those things that you're talking about. And the sense of unreality was very prominent. Tuesday, September the 28th. Night blurs back into day and the visions continue.

I had an experience

Wednesday, September the 29th.

This is Ed's sixth day in the desert. As his visions take an increasingly spiritual turn, they produce a profound moment of religious reconnection. I had a visitation from this Jesus figure in the canyon. It seemed to me that this figure had moved tons of rock

out of the canyon, out of the wall, in order to make a platform for him. And I approached this figure and asked, "What should I do?" Obviously, tremendously powerful figure. He's able to move like all these tons of rocks out of the way just to have a platform there. And then I went through a religious questioning of my own religion, my Jewishness.

and ultimately determined that, you know, I didn't want to make a conversion and ended up reaffirming my Judaism. Sometime later, Ed awakes from a deep sleep. He feels a cool breeze caressing his burnt skin. He's only semi-conscious, but he's alert enough to recognize the small miracle that is unfolding above him. His cracked lips even manage a smile

By the end, I wasn't expecting to wake up and everything was flashing by me.

but I wasn't really like, I was just a witness, not like I was a person anymore. I was just laying there like some entity that was witnessing what was going on around him in the canyon, but no involvement. At one point, only half aware of what he's doing, he arranges his personal items around him in a circle. His boots, torch, knife, first aid kit.

this thermal blanket it's a sort of death ritual i was ready to die there in the desert when i was laying with that with my things around me and i was ready to just become part of the mojave thursday september the 30th early morning ed wakes lying face down in the sand he's surprised to wake up at all

It takes him a while to focus and longer still to become aware of the odd buzzing noise in the distance. He strains his ears trying to discern the strange but familiar mechanical sound. Squinting through the fissure opening up at the sky, he thinks he sees an oval object a hundred feet in the air. That was really amazing to hear the sound of an engine, something metallic.

After being out in nature all of that time, I was really astounded to hear the sound of a machine getting closer. And I heard this, someone yell, are you that Rosenthal that's out here? Which was really shocking. And I still had maybe a sense of humor thinking, well...

There's no one else out here. Like, yeah, he's in the next room or something. It was very strange. And I said, yes. And then he said, well, we're coming to get you. And they did. It's only when a helicopter pilot rushes over to him with a bottle of water, reality really sinks in. Ed hears him radio back to the search party. We've got him. It turns out that when Ed had failed to return to his car on the Saturday, a camper had raised the alarm.

After calling his hotel, then-wife Nicole, the authorities launched a rescue mission. After five days scouring the desert, they'd all but given up hope. But then someone had found footprints. Tracking them prompted the rescue party to shift the search area, until finally, they got here. Ed, it transpires, had stumbled 13 miles off course, into an area far south of Warren Peak. In fact, he's almost made it out of the park altogether.

Despite the footprints, despite the authorities scouring the terrain from the air and on the ground, finding him here inside a crack in the canyon wall is still a miracle. Albeit one partly of Ed's own making. The helicopter pilot had spotted his reflective thermal blanket glinting in the morning sun. Rushed to intensive care, Ed is treated for severe dehydration. Eventually he's discharged and makes his way home.

He passes posters tacked up on trees and buildings, alerting people to look out for a missing hiker. It's unnerving, seeing his own image and description in print, a moment's distraction in the desert. When his phone went off and he lost the trail, that's all it took to spark this whole ordeal. But his preparedness and his deep respect for the landscape probably saved his life.

I also befriended one of the searchers that was involved in my search. I have returned to that area and I was informed by another hiker that you should never take the trail you took.

and give me a lecture that, oh, no one takes that trail. It was a dangerous trail to begin with and you shouldn't take it. So that was confusing to know. Oh, so the trail that I took for 18 years is actually regarded as not a great trail to take. That surprised me. The lesson he learned the hard way.

In the months and years after his escape from Joshua Tree, Ed finds his thoughts returning again and again to his place of refuge, that rocky crevasse he named Salvation Canyon. To him, his time there was a profoundly spiritual and genuinely miraculous event, one that reconnected him with his faith. It was very much a spiritual experience, including getting comfort out of riding on the hat

and feeling closer to my friends and family. Yes, that was a spiritual experience. All of it was, including this affirmation of my Judaism, you might say. When it came down to it, that was the most amazing experience of the entire thing. I think there's a toughness

that comes into you from surviving something like that, that does impact others. It sort of comes in handy in the real estate. But yeah, there's a toughness that I feel that I didn't feel before. See, the thing is, I'm not sorry about my experience at all. I don't really think about, oh, how could that have been avoided?

You know, you don't want to look for these kinds of experiences, but if they happen accidentally, then you're happy that you happened to go through it. I would not give up that experience. In the next episode, we meet Jean Munschrath. In 1982, she's an intrepid young adventurer and recent college graduate who embarks on a cross-country skiing trip with her boyfriend.

After months of preparation and training, their thrilling adventure is all going to plan until it isn't. When a storm swallows up Mount Whitney, the young couple are forced into a rapid, unplanned descent. Jean will find herself stranded, all alone, and staring death in the face. With no help in sight, she must dig deep to find an inner strength she never knew she had. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.

If you don't want to wait till next week, listen to Gene's story right now by subscribing to Noisa Plus. Hit the link in the description or head to Noisa.com to find out more. Get to Smoothie King today and try the new blueberry, raspberry, or watermelon lemonade smoothies. They're all made with real fruit, real juice, and no bad stuff. Just check out the no-no list at SmoothieKing.com. Try the new lemonade smoothies at Smoothie King today.