Navigation Skills

Test your knowledge!

These exercises help build the beginning framework for topographic maps (scale, contour lines, UTM coordinates), as well as compass declination.

Learning Objectives 

Maps – Contours, Scale, Declination and UTM grid

Maps – Sense of direction and Orienting your map

Maps – reading UTM grid coordinates

Compass – Direction and bearings

Compass – Shooting and following a bearing

Compass – Following a bearing in low visibility or past an obstruction by leapfrogging

Map and Compass – Measuring a bearing between points on the map

To do the course, you’ll need to have a basic understanding of topographic maps (scale, contour lines, UTM coordinates) as well as compass declination.

On January 29, 2014, Mazama member Pam Monheimer became lost during an off-trail hike in the Columbia River Gorge. Her ordeal was covered by four television stations and two newspapers. Pam is an experienced hiker and climber and has completed numerous Mazama training courses, including the Basic Climbing Education Program (BCEP), Avalanche Basics, Mountaineering First Aid (MFA), and CPR. “I want to tell this story,” Pam says, “because I think I can help my fellow hikers and perhaps save a life.” After all, “Nobody plans on getting lost. Not even on a short hike.”

I admit it. I was the woman lost in the Gorge. 

At first I was too embarrassed to talk about this experience. How could this possibly have happened to me?

In the 18 months preceding that January day, I had hiked more than 2800 miles through Oregon, Washington, France, and Switzerland.

For me, getting lost in the Gorge would be like getting lost in my own backyard. I know the Gorge like the back of my hand. I can name all of the mountains, hills, waterfalls, and trails that border highways 84 and 35. The Columbia River Gorge is in my DNA.

A very important Mazama lesson

I was hiking with my friend, William, a world-class runner and climber with whom I often hike both in the Gorge and on Mt. Hood. It was 34 degrees with a light rain falling. We had a few hours to spend hiking in the Gorge. We started out together in the late morning in a remote area a few miles from Angel’s Rest. We were in a place I’ve hiked more than a dozen times. William and my vizsla puppy, Tüz, went running ahead, and we planned to meet back at my car at 2:30 p.m.

I was listening to a book on my iPhone and was so engrossed I didn’t realize how much time had passed. When I noted the time, I realized I needed to quickly head back. I cut through the woods, off trail with my compass in hand, to get back to the main trail that would take me back to my car. After 20 minutes I still hadn’t found any trail. I was in a totally unfamiliar area, and didn’t recognize my surroundings. I was on a very steep slope amid fallen trees and deep brush. The light rain had turned heavier and it was becoming quite windy.

I was worried. I knew I couldn’t be very far from a trail, but the changing weather conditions scared me into calling 911. Cell service was so spotty that it took three tries before I connected with the Multnomah County Sheriff’s office. After describing my location, I emailed and texted my exact coordinates from my GPS at 2:39 p.m. The sheriff assured me help was nearby, telling me, “they had found my car, William, and Tüz, and that the whole world was coming to help find me.”

The most important thing I did after making that emergency call was to stay put, a very important Mazama lesson. Search and Rescue had my exact location. I paced and did jumping jacks to stay warm.

No moon powerful enough

My situation hit the news quickly, which prompted friends and family to call, text, and send Facebook messages. The onslaught drained my cellphone battery, and by 3:15 p.m. my phone was dead.

Then the famous Gorge gusts blew in. Luckily, I was wearing the correct clothing and boots for the day. I had a waterproof jacket and pants and Gore-Tex lined hiking boots. I was also wearing a down sweater underneath. All of that worked well for the first few hours, but by 4:30 p.m. I was soaked and shivering and darkness was settling in. How long could my rescue take, I wondered? I had given the Sheriff’s office my coordinates more than two hours ago.

I went into survival mode. I dug a hole for shelter next to a large downed tree with my gloved hands, filling it with leaves, small branches, pine needles, and anything else my filthy, frozen hands could carry. I then attempted to build a cover made from larger branches to try to shield myself from the rain and wind until rescue arrived. I was alone in the ebony forest with only the sound of the wind and rain. I had no fear of being alone; I had passed survival training.

Nonetheless, I experienced a few desperate moments where I considered making a run for the trail in the remaining daylight. Had I done so, I fear there might have been a less fortunate ending to my adventure.

As I lay in my dugout in the pitch black, no moon powerful enough to shine through the awful inky, rainy, gloom, I realized I did not have all of the “10 Essentials” that should be taken on every hike. The Mazamas had drilled into my head over the past year that those essentials should always be in my pack. Just a few days earlier, I was sitting on the summit of Mount St. Helens with my larger backpack filled with these 10 Essentials. I didn’t think that it was necessary to repack my smaller pack for a few short hours of hiking, but then again, I hadn’t planned on getting lost either. Thus I had no headlamp, no extra clothing, no waterproof matches, nor any other useful tool that might help me remain safer and warmer until help arrived. All I had was my small daypack with a slowly decreasing amount of water and a lone protein bar.

“I am not going to die here”

As I lay in a fetal position in my wet, muddy hole, I hugged the earth for warmth. My teeth were chattering so hard I had to put a cloth between my teeth. At this point, I also had a raging headache. After a while I realized I couldn’t move my curled legs or arms, they were both totally cramped. My mind was playing games with me. I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep. So this was hypothermia, I thought. It had been five hours since I realized I had become lost and placed my 911 calls. Where was the cavalry? I thought something had gone wrong, perhaps the GPS coordinates had been incorrect, there had been a landslide, or worse, a change in plan with daytime rescue. I needed to stay alive until morning so I could get myself out in the daylight. Then I had the realization that I might not make it. I was too cold to cry. I thought about my family and my friends, about all the small stuff I wasted time and worry on, about all the things I never did or said. I truly thought this would be where I would die.

I was so miserable, but something inside me refused to give up. Around 7:40 p.m., I mustered all of my strength and balance to stand up. I knew I had to move if I were to stay alive. I jumped in place and screamed “I am not going to die here!”  In the distance I saw a faint light. I remembered my GPS watch had a backlight. I flashed it as I jumped. I screamed “Help!” and “Hello!” I could barely hear myself over the wind and rain. A few minutes later that faint light came closer. I waved my light frantically and the rescuers waved theirs back. It took more than 30 minutes for the five-man search and rescue team to reach me.

The Ten Essentials in every pack

In addition to the sheriff’s “quick response team,” which was comprised of two runners, four teams had been sent to search for me. They had all started at different points. It was the quick response team that found William and Tüz. They ran nearly 15 miles looking for me, and as I later learned, they came within 1.5 city blocks of where I was calling for help.

My rescuers went into action, following the same protocols I had learned in my Mazama Mountaineering First Aid course. I was so relieved and grateful to this group who saved me. They carried the largest packs I’d ever seen. They offered me blankets, dry clothes, water, and food. I was shivering so hard that I couldn’t fathom changing clothes; they insisted and then wrapped me in the blankets. They then had to study maps to figure the safest way out. We went through thick brush and fallen trees, and down a steep slope, and still had to walk a few miles to one of the two vans that had made it to the fallen tree a mile from the trailhead. One of the vans then got stuck in the mud, which added another hour to everyone’s evening. I used the time to get to know this quality group of volunteers who had braved the elements to find me. Some were still in high school. I learned that they had to pay for their own gear. That moment, I made a commitment to make annual donations to Portland Mountain Rescue.

We made it back to the Angel’s Rest parking lot by 11 p.m. I was sick to see it packed to capacity with rescue teams, ambulances, police cars, and four TV news crews. I had caused a lot of people a lot of trouble and worry. I am sorry. I am grateful to those who helped rescue me, and to the Mazamas for providing me with the mountaineering training that kept me alive.

William and I went back to that same trail a few days later with the sun shining, a layer of fresh snow dusting the trail, and a GPS unit with my coordinates plugged in to see where I had gone wrong and “get back up on that horse right away.” I was fearful of going off trail again and didn’t want one scary incident to ruin my love of exploring. It was bizarre to see the shelter I had built myself, and understand that I had done the right thing by staying put. I’ve learned to carry orange trail tape for when I want to explore new areas so I can mark my turns. And I always bring my 10 Essentials. I have a set of those important, potentially life-saving items in every backpack I own. I never leave home without them.