We woke up early Saturday morning with a mission, to hike up the mountain behind us to the airport on the island. So we grabbed our mountain and headed straight up hill.
It was a rough hike, and only me and two of the boys made it all the way to the top. My lungs hurt and my feet were burning, but it was awesome.
There was a restaurant at the airport we were rewarded with giant juicy burgers and cold beers. And then we got to check out the cool planes.
We started the hike down, which was a lot easier.
We found our friends who had stayed behind, who made the wise decision to nap instead of climb a mountain.
Then things started going bad. My friend Tina slipped down the hill and her ankle got caught under her, and it was clear her ankle was hurt, and probably broken. I looked down to the harbor and saw a big old yacht sitting there. Since we had no cell phone service, I ran down the hill to see if a boat that big had some communication with the main harbor.
Luckily, the people on the boat were the nicest rich people I've ever met. The immediately called the coast guard for help, and gave me cookies while I waiting with them. I had to go back to shore, and the kids on the boat and I jumped off the top deck before swimming back in.
Within the hour, we had search and rescue come and get Tina off the mountain.
She was flown back to mainland, and the people on the yacht offered to take her boyfriend and all their stuff to her. Talk about some good Samaritans.
But here is the kicker. We were at the bar the next day telling the bartender about our experience and she said "oh you were the ones rescued by the wrigleys!" The wrigleys. As in the gum company. Also as in the owners of Catalina island, and multimillionaires. Talk about finding the best possible rescuers there are!
The three of us who stayed behind decided to stick to the original plan and went kayaking again, looking for sea caves.
We were exhausted by the end of the day and all the events. Right before we went to bed, we saw a huge shooting star.
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