#Mt. Hood Chapter of the PCTA

[pcttrailsidereader]

Sonora Pass: Losing Frank Hengel

By Dave Baugher

Mile 1030, July 3rd, 2016, 10,000’ on a ridge high above Sonora Pass: Toward dusk on a somber California evening the first faint cell signal found in a week since leaving Tuolumne Meadows I called my wife Luann, who quickly informed me that Frank Hengel was in intensive care and she had just left the hospital.  Mind whirling with concern, I immediately hung up and made a call to Alice, Frank’s wife.

That morning my day began with a cup of coffee on the shore of Dorothy Lake in Northern Yosemite. After a day of hiking from Yosemite through Toiyabe National Forest and the Emigrant Wilderness, a new camp was nestled in a grove of bushes and near a notch in the ridge overlooking Levitt Lake near Sonora Pass.  There I was able to get that cell signal from the east and made the call to my wife Luann.

I first met Frank Hengel when my family moved to Loganberry Lane in Arnold, CA. Frank and Alice had moved there from Brentwood, CA six years before us.  Frank, a natural leader, assumed a position of leadership within the community, and when we arrived,   Alice and Frank welcomed our family into their lives, actually becoming surrogate grandparents to my two kids.

In his younger days, Frank had been an avid backpacker and cyclist.  Spending his free time biking along the Avenue-of-the-Giants in Northern California, backpacking with his family in the Sierra Nevada and traveling all over the world with Alice, Frank was a special guy.  He lived a life that anybody would envy.  Professionally, he had served the communities of the Oakley School District, where he progressed from principal to superintendent over a career of 23 years.  Frank was known for his ability to listen, counsel and make important decisions to improve education within his community.  Schools, libraries and even a street bear the name of Frank Hengel. 

In Arnold, Frank stayed busy and active in many organizations including Lions, Rotary, Blue Lake Springs Home Owners Association, and Sons-in-Retirement (SIRS).  Around town, he was known as someone who always listened with kind words of wisdom for those who would listen and give salient advice when asked.

In 2009, Frank was diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) an umbrella term used to describe progressive lung diseases including emphysema, chronic bronchitis, and refractory (non-reversible) asthma.  Patients living with COPD must reduce active lifestyle and the symptoms such as breathlessness and wheezing can be frightening.   Living at the 4,000’ elevation in the town of Arnold, a patient has a tough time breathing, so in 2013 Alice and Frank returned down to sea level in the San Joaquin valley to the town of Brentwood, where they had lived before. 

Before he and Alice left Arnold, we had an evening conversation over scotch in his living room.  “Dave, what are you going to do with yourself once you complete the Pacific Crest Trail?”  I was at a loss, I had not thought about that when making my plans to finish the PCT by my 61st birthday.  Frank looked at me and said, “Why don’t you keep going?” With those words, I began to contemplate the future and how my goals should not end with the completion of the trail. 

Now Alice had taken Frank to the hospital and he was in the Intensive Care Unit. My call to Alice was immediately answered.  I asked how Frank was doing and she said I could ask him myself, as she handed him the phone.  After saying hello, Frank was obviously short of breath, so I did the talking.  After explaining the location where I was, he quietly replied he knew exactly the spot where my camp was located. After hanging up that brief call, I took some pictures of the snowcapped peaks and ridges surrounding me and then forwarded them to Frank’s IPad.   

Returning to camp, I got busy to call it an evening when a solitary hiker appeared and asked to share my spot.  No problem.  Introducing himself as Steve, he quickly set up camp and we promptly turned in for the evening as the temperature dropped with the oncoming darkness.

Night-time brought one of the weirdly beautiful alpine skies with a fat moon floating above the tent, above snowy peaks and the wild flare of the Milky Way banner streaming across the blue-black sky.  The ghostly view of the Sierra Ridge bracketing the horizon from east to west from the camp.

I slept peacefully that night and in the morning, Steve and I chatted over shared coffee.  He explained that he had already hiked the Pacific Crest trail in 1981 and the experience shaped his life in a way that he had a hard time describing.  “When I stood on the Mexican border, I was a completely different person than when I finished.”  Steve had formed the Mount Hood Chapter of the PCTA and its members had tallied over 11,000 volunteer hours in 2014 alone.  Now he was retracing his trip to see how it and the people who walked it had changed.  Later, I researched Steve Queen and discovered he had served the PCT trail community for many years in Portland Oregon and had received the PCTA Lifetime Achievement Award in 2011.  (These details of his life memorialized the book “The Pacific Crest Trail,” by Mark Larabee and Barney Scout Mann.)

We broke camp that following morning and Steve continued with an easy gait that quickly left me behind.  I followed, continuing down the trail to Sonora Pass where I was going to Kennedy Meadows to resupply. Thinking quietly, as the miles went by about Frank and Steve, two guys to look up to in life.  Both active, touching and impacting the world and people around them. 

It’s funny, here were two guys, Frank and Steve, both had trekked the PCT, Sierras, and on that morning, the same path I followed.  They left a mark where ever they passed and impressions on the people, communities, and me.  I would not find out for several days that Frank passed away that same morning when I was chatting with Steve on July 4th. 

Frank, I’ve kept going and probably will forever, following those adventures, future trails and hoping to meet more admirable folks like yourself.