In the rugged landscapes of Fresno County, California, Ron Dailey’s recent ordeal in the mountains captured widespread attention. After nearly three weeks of being unaccounted for, Dailey, an experienced hunter, emerged with a compelling tale of resilience and determination. While some might say he was lost, Dailey insists he was simply in need of being found, relying on his ingenuity and faith to navigate his predicament.

During an interview with Tony Botti, the Public Information Officer for the Fresno County Sheriff’s Office, Dailey recounted his experience. “I’ve ventured to the top of Swamp Road about a dozen times,” he explained. “I wasn’t lost in the traditional sense. I knew my location, but I found myself in a situation where I couldn’t find my way out. It was more a matter of being in trouble because no one knew my whereabouts.”

The day of his departure, October 13, began like any other familiar trek. Confident in his route, Dailey set off without a second thought. By midday, he paused to enjoy a snack, secure in his navigation thus far. However, a simple miscalculation led him astray.

“I had just reversed about ten feet when I took off down what I thought was the Jeep trail,” Dailey recalled. “The correct path was slightly to my left. It wasn’t until I descended the first ledge that I realized my error. I spotted a tree with a sign indicating a Jeep trail ahead, and that’s when it hit me—I was in trouble.”

In the face of adversity, Dailey’s story is a testament to the power of prayer, the unwavering support of loved ones, and the human capacity for creative problem-solving. His experience serves as a reminder of the unpredictability of nature and the importance of preparation and communication when venturing into the great outdoors.

He had driven onto an off-roading trail, a path his truck was not built for.

He was uninjured, but his truck couldn’t make the climb. So he tried to find another way back, but there wasn’t.

“I’m sitting there looking down the canyon, and I’m going, ‘Well, maybe this will feed out the bottom and I’ll come out over there by Tamarack somewhere or something.’ And it didn’t. It just went down there about a mile, maybe two,” Dailey said. “Then I got down there, and it stopped. And so I got out and walked around, and I go, ‘Oh, man, this ain’t going to feed out. I can’t get through this.’ So I turned back around and drove back up.”

By the time he made it back, it had started snowing, so he bunkered down for the night, hoping it would clear out by morning.

When he woke up, he realized he’d have to re-evaluate.

“About 7 o’clock in the morning, I believe, I opened the door up and raked the snow out of the way,” Dailey said. “But then I started to look at the top of the truck, I go, ‘Oh, my goodness, there’s two feet of snow on me.’ And I go, ‘Oh, we’re not going anywhere for three or four days. This has got to melt before I can even move in.’”

His estimation was on the mark; by the fourth day, the snow had melted, but when he tried moving, he struck a rock, cracking his oil pan.

With a little ingenuity and hard work, Dailey was able to splice it back together with a hose. With that, he tried again and mapped a new potential path.

“I got to a place where I called it ‘the Gauntlet’ because it was between two big rocks,” he said. “I walked it like three or four times, and I’m going, ‘I don’t think, I don’t even know if I could get through here, this is some big stuff,’” he recounted.

“So I stood up there and I go, ‘Well, if I bounce off that rock, I’ll hit that rock. Then I’ll bounce back this way.’ And so I go, ‘Okay, let’s give it a whirl.”

He did indeed bounce, but he made it through – to another spot, between another rock, and another hard place.

While the path out may not have been clear, the snow now was, giving him a better opportunity to start a fire. He couldn’t, not for 15 days, but he says he had warmth thanks to his wife.

“In my backpack, my wife always had me plenty of hats and things to put on my head, and gloves; I had like eight pairs of gloves,” he said.

Dailey turned those gloves into socks. The towel he packed, he used as leg warmers, his seat covers, he converted into chaps, and an emergency blanket his wife gave him, he used to signal for help.

“One side was blue, one side was silver. I literally cut it in half because I wrapped half of it around my legs and tied it on every night, the other half, I used to cover my body,” he said. “But I tied those on top of the cabin of my truck once the snow fell off of it. I put one side up silver so it’d reflect the sun, and the blue side, I stuck on my hood. I tied those up. So hopefully the sun would reflect and somebody would see it.”

No one did.

By Nov. 1, he hadn’t had food in five days, but he knew deer season was ending, and that there was a good chance last-minute hunters would be around.

“I was sitting in the truck and I told the Lord, I go, ‘Deer season’s ending on Sunday. There’s going to be a ton of people up here.’ And I said, ‘We either got to walk out tomorrow or I got to sit here and die in this trip, Lord.’ I go, ‘You got to tell me what to do, Father, because I don’t know what to do.’”

By the next morning, he made the call and set off, leaving his truck behind.

“I could only walk maybe 50 to 100 yards at a whack. And I’d have to catch my breath because the air was so thin up there. But the Lord kept me moving,” he said.

After walking for nearly 12 hours, Dailey was running out of daylight and had to make a decision.

“I go, ‘I either got to start a fire out of that pile of wood.’ Or I go, ‘You got to bring a car up this road and save me, Lord – and he goes, ‘Look up.’”

“I looked up and there were headlights and I go, ‘Oh my God.’ Instant answer, Lord, I never had an instant answer on a prayer. It saved my life.”

A group of three hunters had found him. His prayers had been answered.

“My first prayer was to my wife. I told her, ‘Look, babe,’ I go, ‘You’ve got to get a hold of Jeff Dodd.’ I go, ‘Jeff knows everybody. He’ll get the ball rolling. People start looking for me.’ That was my first prayer between me and God.”

Dailey says he kept his phone charged on the solar charger his wife had given him, sending her 30 to 40 messages that never went through.

“I messaged all my kids, apologized to them that grandpa probably won’t be there for the rest of your lives, but I’ll be watching you from heaven. And that was probably the saddest part of my time up there, is making these messages because you don’t want to tell your loved ones you’re going to die. But that’s what I was looking at. But the Lord had some different plan for me, and he really took care of me. But I never, I never lost faith.”

Dailey lost about 25 pounds, rationing his food to less than 100 calories a day. He starts physical therapy next week and has plans to see a psychiatrist.

And for now, he says he’s done with hunting.

“I’m done. I’m done hunting. I love hunting. I’ve been hunting since I’ve been a little little kid, three years old,” he said. “But I told my wife, ‘I’m done, babe. I’m really done hunting.’ I go, ‘I promised God, I won’t shoot no more of his creatures, you know?’ And she goes, ‘Are you sure?’ I go, ‘No, I’m done. I’m done. I’m not leaving you no more.”