LOST ON MOUNT TAMALPAIS.

Gustav Herz Spends Three Days and Two Nights in the Dense Underbrush.

He Missed the Trail and Became Hopelessly Astray in the Ravines of the Range.

AWFUL HOURS OF DESPAIR.

A Seasoned Traveler, He Attempts to Descend to Bolinas, but Was Overtaken by Darkness and Could Not Retrace His Steps - He Was About to Lose Hope When He Found a Fence, and Followed It to the Cabin of Portuguese Cattle Herders and Safety.

After wandering for three days and two nights in the ravines about Tamalpais, Gustav Herz, the bookkeeper of Eppinger & Co., returned to his home in this city last night in a very weak condition.

The bottle that Herz clung to with desperation.

When Herz started out on Sunday morning last full of life and spirits to walk to the top of Tamalpais he weighed close to 140 pounds. Last night his weight was less than 125 pounds. But he is well satisfied to be alive.

Herz, a strong, wiry fellow, spending his days over books and papers, has been accustomed to a tour every Sunday over the hills adjacent to San Francisco. For years he has been running over the roads of the bay counties, and few men know more about the hill country in the immediate vicinity of San Francisco.

OUT FOR A SUNDAY WALK.

Sitting in his cosy little home at 10 Miles Court last evening he said: "If anyone had told me a few days ago that I could have been lost within seven miles of San Francisco without hope of ever seeing my home again I should have laughed at him. I have walked everywhere in this neighborhood that a human being could walk, and for the first time have learned the dangers that a pedestrian may encounter. I have also learned that a man can live without suffering for a long time not touching food if he only is provided with water."

GUSTAVE HERZ, THE MAN WHO WAS LOST FOR THREE DAYS AND TWO NIGHTS IN THE GULCHES ABOUT TAMALPAIS.
[From a recent photograph.]

With this preliminary Mr. Herz began the story of his remarkable experience and escape from a lingering death.

"I left San Francisco," he said, "at 9 o'clock on Sunday morning and went to Mill Valley. I have been in the habit of taking weekly trips and walking for hours. It keeps me in shape. On this occasion I took in my little canvas bag two eggs, a black radish, an Italian sausage, a bit of Holland cheese and a quart of white wine in one of those light bottles that Chianti comes in. When I left the train at Mill Valley I at once started out on the trail that leads up Tamalpais. I followed this to about 100 feet of the top of the first peak, where I struck the wagon road that runs up from Ross Station. I met several people, but continued on the road toward the second peak. I did not go to the top, but followed the trail that leads down to the sea. It is clearly defined, and I never thought of losing it. Passing the fence of the Howard and Shafter ranch I looked at my watch and saw that it was about 6 o'clock.

A NAP IN THE OPEN.

"A few miles to the northwest I saw Bolinas, but concluded that it was too far away for me to reach before dark. I am an old traveler, accustomed to roughing it, and as I desired to reach my office by 9 o'clock Monday morning, I concluded that I would sleep for a few hours and then start back over Tamalpais for Mill Valley.

"I turned back and walked for a little distance through the low brush and then lay down. The day had been very warm and the atmosphere was comfortable. But the mosquitoes were dreadful. I lay down about 9 o'clock. The moon was up and I could see the ocean glittering at the foot of the hills and could hear the surf breaking in the beach. I dozed until about 3 o'clock Monday morning, and then concluded it was about time to start on the homeward journey. I thought I had the trail all right, although it was not much traveled and in consequence indistinct. It led down hill a way, and I thought something was wrong, so I turned back and walked toward the spot that I had started from. But for the first time in my life I got mixed.

SEEKING FOR A TRAIL.

"At 7 o'clock in the morning I realized that I had lost my way. I sat down and considered the situation carefully. Around me were the brush-covered hills without a trail. I could not hear a sound, although the morning was as still and quiet as the interior of a church. I understood that I was in a ticklish situation, because I had lost my bearings. I was down in a gulch, and could see neither the sea nor Mount Tamalpais. The spurs shut them from my View.

"After thinking it all over I concluded there was no possible show to go over the spur confronting me as the brush was too high and thick. The brush looked clearer toward what I thought was the west and concluded that that must be the way back toward the spot where I had slept near the trail, so I went that way. God, how walked and climbed to no purpose! I traveled perhaps a mile thinking always that I would come upon the spot where 1 had spent the early hours of the night. But I was lost, lost as much as if I had been out on the sand of Sahara without a land mark in sight.

"I pushed into the brush and forced my way until it came head high and I was finally halted by the manzanita and lay down exhausted.

"I was dripping with perspiration and the brush had cut me in a hundred places. I was bleeding from the wounds on my hands and face, and the mosquito bites were swelling and itching. I was depressed and weak, and began to think of my wife and home. I thought that I would die there and wondered what my friends would say of me if I did not return. I thought that searching parties would be sent out for me, but realized that no one could ever find me in that great expanse of brush. It was tantalizing too, to know that a few miles over those hills was home and safety.

FOLLOWING A TINY STREAM.

"I was in a bad way because my wine had given out on Sunday and I was parched with thirst. I wasn't very hungry somehow or other, and decided to keep my Italian sausage until I really felt that I needed it. I have to thank God for one thing most devoutly. At this time of the year there is plenty of water in the gulch. I climbed down to one spring and filled my wine bottle. Then I took a good, long drink and started to climb directly up the highest ridge, hoping that it led to the top of Tamalpais. I forced myself through the brush, although it cut me terribly. Then I struck a tiny stream, and I followed it up the mountain. It had cut a way for me, and I knew that it must come from the top of the ridge. At times I had to pull myself up little precipices, and was always tearing the underbrush away to make a passage. Late Monday afternoon I pushed my way out to the little clearing and saw a stretch of country that looked familiar. It was Sequoia canyon. I was almost despairing, but this view gave me new hope, and I struggled on going up all the time. Several times I sat down and tried to eat the sausage, but I couldn't. It was fatty, and the water, to which I was unaccustomed, had disturbed my stomach so that I couldn't eat. Anyhow I didn't feel the least desire for food and was fresh enough after a rest. Just before dusk Monday night I crawled out on top of a spur of the big mountain and saw the sea once again.

"Was I thankful! Well, I can't tell you how grateful I was. You couldn't have coaxed me away from that spot just then with all the gold in the world. The fog was beginning to roll in and it drove the mosquitoes away, so I determined to rest there. I did not feel like doing any more night traveling and just sat down and looked about me. I could see the Bolinas flats way down near the sea and off by the south the Bay of San Francisco is visible. But still I couldn't get my bearings. The two main peaks of Tamalpais mountain were invisible. They were somewhere near me but where I couldn't tell.

"It was clear all around me and toward midnight I had company. Three deer came out of the brush and one of them came within ten feet of me. It was clear moonlight and I could have killed it with a pistol.

HIDDEN BY THE FOG.

"At 3 o'clock in the morning I lay down and slept for two hours. When I woke up the appearance of the country seemed changed. I could not see the ocean or Bolinas. The fog lying low concealed everything below the ridge. For two hours I studied the situation and concluded that it would be hazardous to attempt a direct move for Bolinas. If ever I got down in those gulches again I knew I would not get out alive. So I turned up the mountain again, following the ridge, and suddenly came upon a fence. Hope came to me with a rush. That fence must lead somewhere, I thought; so I followed it down into the ravines, along meadows and up hills, until shortly before 9 o'clock this morning, when I came upon a collection of houses. I was very weak by this time, and perhaps the sensation of being once more near a human being took my strength away. I staggered to the largest house and almost fell in. There was no one there. My heart went down into my boots, and I felt that I hadn't anything to live for, for just a few moments. And there was nothing to eat, not even a cold potato.

FOOD AT LAST.

"After a bit I looked around and found a a trail clear and distinct cut through the woods. It led to Larsen's place on the summit, and I arrived there shortly after noon. It's not the finest house in the world, but I thought it superior to the Palace Hotel when I came out of the trail. They were kind to me, although I looked like a tramp, dirty and covered with blood. Mrs. Larsen wanted me to wash, but I wouldn't do anything until I had something to eat. I drank a cup of coffee, but I couldn't swallow any meat. My stomach was gone. When I told the Larsens of my experience they were not surprised. They said it was a continual source of wonder to them that many more pedestrians did not go astray. After a man once gets down in a ravine on the western slope of Tamalpais he is in a most dangerous position.

"But there is one thing I have to congratulate myself upon," said Mr. Herz, in concluding his story. "I got rid of a headache that I started out with."

The Larsen place, at which Herz brought up, is located on the summit of Bolinas ridge, midway between Fairfax and Bolinas.

The wanderer brought back with him to his home the bottle that he declares was his salvation and the remnants of the sausage that he couldn't eat. Yesterday a searching party went out from Sausalito, but could obtain no trace of the lost man. At a late hour last night they returned and learned of his safe arrival.

Mrs. Herz, who has been in attendance on a sick sister, only learned of her husband's disappearance yesterday and returned to her home a few hours before he reappeared.

LOST ON MOUNT TAMALPAIS.
Article from Aug 2, 1893 The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California)

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