COYOTES & GOOD FOR NUTTIN’ COPS

I’ve never understood why travellers like to “get lost”. I mean, I can understand the thrill of unexpectedly discovering something somewhere — but that retrospective only comes after much fumbling about. I strongly dislike getting lost, which is ironic as I am terrible with directions. Perhaps that’s why. It was a hot Los Angeles afternoon and we had decided to hike to the famous Hollywood sign [Disclaimer: I am not an avid hiker]. Despite our suspicion that we should hike in the morning, when it’s cooler, we settled for 3pm and planned to do the short, moderate hike. We figured we’d be done by about 4.30pm and that would be cooler too. Except we weren’t, and it wasn’t.

Problemo numero uno. Our cranky Uber driver was as clueless as we were about getting to the start point, Griffith Observatory. Once we finally did arrive, it was about 3.30pm and we realised we hadn’t the faintest idea which trail to follow. The sun, beating down, showed no signs of letting up and I worried that the three bottles of water between us would not be enough.

With no clear route in mind, and already fearing dehydration, we set off. An LA local on his jog gave us some insight: walk down there, go left, then right, and then left onto a gravel path and you’ll be at the sign in no time. Or something like that.

Now might be a good time to mention that two of our phones were South Africa-registered and did not work in WiFi-free zones. The third was US-registered — but had no signal because we were in the mountains.

The sun’s force was relentless and the trail seemed never-ending.

None of us knew how long we’d been hiking for — and our water was running out. We had expected to see more tourists on the trail but they probably knew better and had journeyed earlier in the day.

We eventually passed a couple on their way back down. I imagine our exasperated faces were a silent appeal to them to offer some hope. “You haven’t got much longer, just keep going — it’s so worth it!” Irritable, I asked: “Please be honest, how much longer and how steep is the incline?” Never ask for the truth — unless you really want it.

Legs weak, water diminished, moods foul, we made it! Bloody hell. It was approaching 6pm and so with the help of two fellow tourists, Irish ladies, we took our #pics and headed back.

Now, the thing about routes is you have to remember them. Naturally, we got lost coming down the mountain. The sun was almost completely gone at this point and things were becoming even more unfamiliar. Three women alone on a mountain with no clue how to get back to civilisation … this is the stuff of horror films.

One of our non-working phones was dead, the other two slowly dying. The plan was: non-working-but-still-alive phone would serve as the torch; the working-but-dying phone must save its juice to call the Uber — we started running. We bolted down the mountain guided by a faint light, encountering not one but two coyotes along the way. One of us wanted to get a pic. Absolutely not. Keep running.

Out of breath and scared senseless, we found the road. If we thought we were out of the woods by then, hah! Working phone was not working. No signal. We couldn’t call an Uber.

Luckily we spotted the LAPD. They had a car. Their job is to serve and protect, no? Apparently no. We begged: “Please officers, can you drop us at the bottom of this very long road so we can get signal, call our Uber and get the hell home?” Nope, sorry. No such luck. Turns out it’s illegal for cops to have ordinary folks in their cars if they’re not under arrest. Who woulda thought!?

By this point we were almost in tears. And freezing. As the cops were heading off, the two Irish ladies we’d met on the mountain materialised. Seeing our distress, they offered to let us use their phone as a hotspot in one last attempt to get us home — success! I guess that’s why they call it the “luck of the Irish”. As we waited for our Uber, the coyotes were still walking about and we just prayed we wouldn’t become their dinner.

Four-and-a-half hours and 12km later, retrospectively, yes it had been worth it — an experience we’ll never forget.

And the view was incredible. I still don’t have a clue what trail we did — or how to do it again — but I’ll tell you this: next time, we’re going in the morning!

Do you have a funny story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photo of yourself.