Backpacking's topics - tribe.net

That Spot Thing

2008-07-03T22:17:21Z

So I just ordered the Spot Satellite Locator/Communicator. I'll let you know what it's like when I get it. They offer a variety of service plans and I need to figure out which is best for me. But I am stoked because it def has more uses than just in the back country. I mean if I'm on a road trip and I break down somewhere that has no cell service I still can call for help.

As for the expense it's less than one of those iPhones everyone seems to be buying and the yearly service is about the same as my MONTHLY cell phone bill. So I'm thinking in all reality it's not that bad.

Has anyone else purchased one?

posted in Backpacking - 11 replies

Travel Pictures Country next to Country

2008-07-02T19:58:10Z

Kenya-Belgium June 2008 Travel Pictures Country next to Country

Hi,

This Kenya-Belgium website displays several pages each one containing two comparative (similar, contrastive, ...) photos. Let your thoughts flow freely and enjoy:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_22_en/a_kenyan_house_1_and_a_belgian_house_1.html
Click the "-->"-button on the page opened for the following new pictures.

Best regards, BoBi

Annex: overview of the new photos:

a Kenyan House - Indian style and the Belgian Cooremetershuys - Flemish renaissance style:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_22_en/a_kenyan_house_1_and_a_belgian_house_1.html
a Kenyan House - English style and the Belgian unfree skipper Guildhall:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_22_en/a_kenyan_house_2_and_a_belgian_house_2.html
the Kenyan Government square and the Belgian Sint-Veerle Square:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_22_en/a_kenyan_square_and_a_belgian_square.html
a Kenyan Mosque and a Belgian Church:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_22_en/a_kenyan_mosque_and_a_belgian_church.html
Kenyan children play and Belgian children play:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_23_en/kenyan_children_play_and_belgian_children_play.html
a Kenyan Baobab and a Belgian Gnome tree:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_23_en/a_kenyan_baobab_and_a_belgian_gnome_tree.html
a Kenyan Spider and a Belgian Spider:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_23_en/a_kenyan_spider_and_a_belgian_spider.html
a Kenyan Sunset behind Trees and a Belgian Sunset behind Trees:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_23_en/a_kenyan_sunset_behind_trees_and_a_belgian_sunset_behind_trees.html

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Gila backpacking "trip" end of April 2008

2008-07-02T19:49:11Z

after about a week from returning from this trip, I lost power in my legs suddenly (within two days) and subsequently spent a month in the hospital, at one point being completely paralyzed from head to toe and almost dying, The trip and an intestinal illness was a bit of red herring for the doctors and they really didn't know what was wrong with me until performing two spinal taps and numerous MRI's. It turned out to have nothing to do with the wilderness trip and was essentially a severe MS attack. Also, it has nothing to do with the mushrooms, except for the fact that the spiritual lessons I have learned over the last year or so from the mushrooms served me very well during this recent health crisis.

Six hour drive and 270 miles from Ruidoso to the Gila visitor center at the end of Rt15. I went in via Rt152 that goes over the Black Range and returned via Rt10 and Las Cruces. I crossed the continental divide at 7,000 just east of Lake Roberts. There are numerous lodgings as well as campgrounds at Lake Roberts. I stopped and ate lunch at a beautiful restaurant there that also has lodging. From Lake Roberts it’s another forty five minutes to the Cliff dwellings and visitor center. I came up the Mimbres valley but most come in from Silver City - coming in from Silver City it is a two hour drive due to the convolutions of the road. When one looks at the map, it does not look that far and it is hard to believe that this drive would take two hours but it truly does, and such should be the first hint of just how vast this wilderness area really is. A flood in February blocked access to the west fork of the Gila river due to work on the bridge to the trailhead which is at the Gila Cliff Dwelling parking area so I went up the middle fork of the Gila, the trailhead just behind the visitor center which has toilets with a sink, water and various trinkets as well as maps but no food.
No permits are required
I was used to the east coast my whole life and had only backpacked out west a handful of times, mostly in Colorado and Northern California. From the 8,000 foot perch, I could see nothing but wilderness in every direction literally from horizon to horizon and my mind really could not quite comprehend the vastness of this wilderness. Just the drive in is outstanding and before dropping down off of a 8,000 foot ridge into the Gila facilities and a tiny outpost of civilization with a hot springs and lodging, you get a panoramic view that is awe inspiring. At 8,000 feet there was a mature ponderosa pine forest. I’m accustomed to 10,000 acre wilderness not 1,000,000 acre wilderness. I really had a hard time wrapping my mind around it.
I would never see much of this place, I thought in awe.
This paved Rt15 allows the deepest ingress into this 3 million acre forest and 1 million acre Gila wilderness.
I got a topo map at the visitor center and left the trailhead about 2:30pm. Just the trailhead itself affords outstanding views of the middle fork and surrounding cliffs. There is a natural hot springs about a mile in. It trickles into the middle fork from about a 3 inch spring that comes out right at the trail - in fact you have to step over it. It is after the second crossing and just before a sign designating entrance into the wilderness area. There are some good camp sites on the left along the river just past the spring. I actually missed the spring going in because I was banging around on the other side of the river looking for a camp site and then I crossed back over just above the spring. I continued up past here where these camp sites were taken looking for a nice place to camp - an ambitious backpacker I am not! There were quit a few cars at the trailhead and most all of these were people visiting this hot spring. I found a place to camp and set up my tent then I thought that since my boots were already soaked that I’d continue up the trail across the next creek crossing and make sure there wasn’t a better camp site nearby. It was only three thirty, after all. Sure enough, just across the next creek crossing there was a fantastic campsite under enormous trees. This would be at the fifth crossing of the Gila from the trailhead. So I went back and moved everything up to this site, including my already set up tent. The winds threatened to lift me off the ground holding the light but cumbersome tent above my head as I crossed the Gila, thigh deep here. This camp site was beautiful with the middle fork right there and precious shade as well as an open meadow next to it and views of cliffs that ran in a long line along the west and the east.
Anyone coming here should be prepared to cross the river about every five to fifteen minutes of walking. Most of the crossing were about knee high up to almost waist high and the water was down at this point. If this area did actually get winter snows and the water were up it would be virtually impassable - something to think about if someone were planning a trip here in the spring. This is true of all the trails in this area that follow the branches of the Gila. The leaves were just starting to bud and temperatures went down to about 32 degrees at night and up into the 80’s in the day. The bright New Mexico sun on the still cool earth of Spring generated winds starting like clockwork about 8:30 am and ending around dusk - the “spring winds”.
I had never been in an environment like this and found it refreshingly novel. Looking up at the cliffs hundreds of feet above the river, the silhouettes of pinion trees against the bright, electric blue New Mexico sky struck me as so … western. Like a TV Cowboy western movie clip playing in my mind. After the first day I only saw eight backpackers all week and one day I saw six people on horseback doing an all day out and back, passing my camp late in the day heading back, a couple people looking like they could barely still stay in their saddles. A guided horseback trip, especially a multiple day camping trip, would be a great way to see more of this vast territory, I thought.
I think the ideal time to backpack here in the Spring would be about the middle of May. There is almost constant sun under the electric blue New Mexico sky and the environment is similar to the high desert. As an easterner, I marveled at a few cactus I passed. Waiting for the deciduous trees to leaf out would provide some welcome shade. Following along the river was like following a thin, sinuous oasis through the high desert. At the elevation here, about 6,000 ft, when you leave the river you immediately enter a dry, almost scrub environment. As far as I went in, nice camp sites were fairly few and far between but when the birch and other deciduous trees leaf out, the number of nice, shaded camp sites would increase. Even this early in the year the full force of the afternoon sun is daunting. A hat and sun screen is a must, I would think. At this time of year you live under the bright, friendly auspices of the sun as it shines from an electric blue sky almost all the time. Whenever I hiked I just kept dipping my bandana into the river at the numerous crossings and putting it back under my hat. In the afternoon sun the bandana would dry out in fifteen or twenty minutes.
I watched the middle for of the Gila drop for six days about five inches. I would have to shuffle a few inches closer in my booties in the cold morning to fetch some water for coffee.
After five nights on the sixth day walking back out early in the morning with the temperature in the high thirties, the hot spring was hard to miss. Steam rising from the spring itself into the cold air and from the small, shallow pool that the spring empties into. There are beautiful views from the spring and on this morning elk were grassing along the river there. This spring is a great spot for the slightly adventurous being only a thirty minute walk or so from the trailhead. I saw people without packs walking in wearing sandals, towels thrown over their shoulders. At one point earlier in the week I had passed a couple backpacking wearing only sandals. While I have to admit that my boots became extremely heavy every day after only a couple river crossings, I think this is a spectacularly bad idea. If one were just day hiking without a heavy pack, sandals would be cool - personally, in such conditions, I would prefer an old pair of running shoes - at least that much support. I’ve dealt with broken bones in the wilderness, fortunately not my own. I had a difficult time at several crossings due to the rocky bottoms that are plenty deep enough to be invisible even in the relatively clear water of the Gila. A broken ankle or leg or arm or shoulder out in the wilderness is not only a bummer, it‘s a huge hassle being that far away from medical attention. And the crossings are so numerous that it is impractical to take off boots and don tennis shoes at each creek crossing, unless one has a real thing about getting their boots soaking wet as well as a great deal of patience.

An old foot injury acted up and I ended up base camping at my fantastic camp site only a mile and a half in for the entire six days, after resting up the second day doing day hikes up the canyon and a side trail. I’ve never stayed this long at a single camp site and it was interesting in a way, really allowing me to get the feel of this place. On the fourth day I felt that my head was in about as good a place as my head can get. I call it the three day phenomenon. After three days in the wilderness I always seem to settle into a really good mental place, especially on a solo trip like this. I had brought with me 4.1 dried grams of Cambodian psilocybin mushroom and woke thinking about the mushrooms. I felt slightly nauseas. It seems like every time I’m going to take mushrooms I wake up feeling slightly nauseas - maybe it’s fear? While I have never really had a “bad trip” with the mushrooms, I always fear them. Not only is the ego death scary, in this case I had not done a large dose for almost a year and I had a deep and abiding feeling that they (I think of the mushrooms now as “The Elders”) were going to hammer me - for my own good, of course.
I had a big cup of coffee while I waited for air temperatures to come up and then when the temperature got up in the fifties, I made a tea of the mushrooms. I had not done this before and steeping them in hot water ended up putting the cup in my cooking pot, making a kind of double boiler since you do not want to boil them, and reheating them several times because the broth looked so thin. When I was done, the ¾ cup of broth that I had left after straining off the solids was still fairly thin looking, slightly yellowish. I held my nose and knocked it back about 10:30. I had been mashing the mushrooms for about an hour trying to squeeze out all the psilocybin that I could and the remaining ground up pieces of soggy mushroom sitting in the bottom of my coffee funnel had a distinct blue hue to them in the morning sunlight. This made me wonder even more about the potency of my broth and I told myself that I would probably end up having to eat that mushroom mush before this was all over. I really wanted to try a mushroom broth just because I had never consumed them that way before but to be honest I was having a hard time getting up my nerve to take another large dose and I knew that this method would not yield the highest dosage - in other words, I was dancing around them kind of chickenshit.
I usually go through a period of chills and so retired into my tent to wait and see what would happen. Usually, they kick in after about forty minutes when eaten and I suspected that with drinking they might kick in a little bit quicker. They did. Just as I was starting to think that perhaps this broth had been as weak as it appeared, somewhat reluctantly contemplating eating the remaining blue mushroom mush, about thirty minutes after drinking it, they began to kick in. I immediately sensed then that the broth “worked” after all - it was coming on pretty strong. I had to overcome a not uncommon impulse to make myself throw up in an effort to stave off the effects - yea, I’m not a brave psychonaut! I lay in the tent then trying to relax and feeling them come on stronger every second.
I began to hear a slight crackling sound. Here we go! I think kind of wildly.
I breath deeply, drawing breathe into the bottom of lungs and bringing it up until they are full and then releasing it from the top of the lungs down until empty. I try to concentrate on my breathe and to keep it even and smooth and to not think; to just not think at all. But of course I do think. The mushroom that I took was from a single mushroom that had been about 45 grams wet, my biggest one. So being an American after all, I had thought that well this must be “the one”. Bigger is better, right? As I lay there, I reminded myself that I knew this mushroom, that is was nothing to fear. I visualized it in my mind, this particular mushroom growing, pulling it gently from its casing, holding it in my hand, noticing again in my minds eye how it was bigger than my hand, how beautiful it is, golden brown colors ….
That seems to assuage my fear a little and while I continue to deep breath, concentrating as best I can upon each breathe, I began to give myself to the effects. I know that at this point I really have no choice. My choice had been made thirty minutes earlier and now I am in the hands of what I had found to be a great and mysterious and frightening power. I was glad that I didn’t feel the need to fight it any more. I feel a little nauseas and crawl feebly out of my tent swaying slightly on hands and knees and feeling vulnerable outside the tent even a few feet, like some small animal might feel vulnerable outside their hole. I found then that I did not really have to throw up after all - it was just the restlessness kicking in, my mind beginning to squirm as though in a somewhat desperate effort to escape the confines of my own skull.
That crackling again, there it is …
Let me out! My mind screams, wanting to tear off across the dry wilderness or scream away into the sky.

…sinking legs struggling deep down into the sandy earth - ah, sitting, just sitting … Sun driven winds blow me away across the dry land all in a whoosh and I am flowing out of self in waves like the ripples from a pebble tossed into a pond. Dancing the one dance now, the immaculate rhythm of it all, possessed of all things and all things possessing me and all in a constant motion. I, the earth, take one great breath and this is day and with one great exhalation bring forth night …

Red cliffs with subtle purple shades smile above against an electric blue sky, smiling between the rich green spring growth along the Gila below, smiling like a brother would smile, a warm, brotherly love kind of smile.
The Great Gaia mother of us all tells me that She was born of this earth, that She is of this earth as we are of our bodies, that She is not the earth itself but the spirit of the earth itself, as we are spirit and not this body itself. And yet of course She is the earth itself and She is us all and we are also our bodies ...
“I am the mother of your body,” she explains to me, “but I am not the mother of you, you who are eternity have no mother, no father".
I fall then forehead onto the sandy earth softly crying and wondering what lessons this place strives so violently to teach me - am so shallow? I should have seen, yes, of course She is not my mother. I wanted our Gaia Spirit to be my mother. It is only a natural feeling, I tell myself reassuring. It is nothing to be ashamed of …
And eternity smashes open everything with a blinding white light …

“Why are you back here,” The voice of the mushroom Elders addresses me sternly, almost annoyed - an unusual, impatient tone for the Elders. I am taken aback by their tone and before I can think of what to say or even to “look up” - I think I am still fallen face first into the earth - the Elders add emphatically, “You KNOW!”
When they say “KNOW” it is as if someone punches me in the stomach. My mind reels with it: Know what? I could not imagine. I look up and am on my knees before a great, bone white pillar backlit by a blinding white light and I somehow feel that the Elders voice has come from this pillar - there is nothing else, after all?
“But I do not know!” I address myself to the enormous white pillar, “that is why I am back?”
And then the Elders sigh a wordless exhalation, as if grown so very weary of me and the likes of me. I understand that it was their way of saying, “go ahead then”.
Suddenly I am weightless, at the place where we all come, the place beyond bone, beyond stone, the place where we have no staff to lean upon and no shield to hold up against the blows of fate - eternity. No womb, no birth, eternity. Eternity imploded and exploded at once and I feel as if I am gasping for air from the unfathomed ecstasy of it all. I draw away at last in wonder … why am I such a child if I am eternity? No, I sense that eternity is beyond the scope of our physical universe, this physical universe and our 3 billion years of evolution are but a blinking of an eternal eye. Again the sheer magnitude of eternity hits me in the chest, even though I thought that I had pulled away, and again it takes my breath from me. I bear down into it, inwardly concentrating my being into a laser like beam - What is this eternity? How? Why? Locking onto this with all my being and bearing down into it all with a sharp, laser beam of pure, unadulterated questioning.
?
As my mind grasps something I glance off - what about love - glancing, glancing off . What about my mother, my father, but no glancing off, glancing away, nothing to grasp onto here, nothing here at all. What of this earth, the great Mother Spirit of this earth? But no, nothing, glancing, glancing off like the bright white light of eternity glancing off of this finely polished stone pillar above me - the glancing, glancing at every point just I am glancing off of everything, almost sparkling and drawn onward and away and deeper and glancing endlessly off of everything and just on and on …
The thought occurs to me that death is not my father. An odd thought to grasp onto to, an odd anchor in eternity? I dismiss this thought like in meditation, watching it come and go, “death is not my father” the kind of thought that is capable of sucking one’s mind off into a dark and fruitless places. I glance off of this thought consciously. I make a choice.
I knew then that I was here on this earth to learn lessons of eternity, lessons helpful to negotiating eternity, and I saw that this unique physical reality of ours, this earth where one sentient creature eats another sentient creature alive, where all who enter, enter through a woman’s womb, born of blood and pain into this often brutal and senseless place, this physicality of ours teaches us lessons for negotiating the infinity of our own being, the endless halls of our higher self - the self beyond this body, beyond even our souls. This world teaches us how to exist for an eternity, how to cope with what could become the hell of eternity by teaching things that are so crucially human on this world like creativity, music, art - the power of imagination. Imagination like magic opens eternity up, billowing the sails of infinity with an endless source of creativity. Then I began to see how a God might create a universe and even RNA/DNA and then maybe God watches this for billions of years as we here on this earth might watch television for the evening just for something to do.
What about love, I think ...
Then a very sweet but confident female voice says softly, “David,” tapping her finger on a table at the same time, very gently, so that I must listen carefully, “David,” she urges gently, patiently, “Come back here, be here”.
Love is not a lesson here, she seems to say, you are love, always have been love, you only
have to recall what you are ...
Yes I see clearly what she is saying and open my eyes and thinking, “is that the voice of eternity now?” Laughing at myself. But It was not the voice of the Gaia mother? I become aware of myself physically again. Even though my hair had been tied back, I have to gather it up and tie it back again, all a mess. I look around for a second recalling where I am.
Oh, yes.
“Where are you going?” the voice of eternity asks again, just as patiently, tapping her finger ever so gently upon that table. “Come back here, where is there to go?”, she insists, laughing playfully so that I laugh along with Her - yes, where is there to go?
Good one, eternity.
I find a couple sticks nearby the tent after discovering that I can move. I go into the sunny field under the long line of western cliffs maybe three hundred feet above. The sun feels wonderful, instantly taking the temperature up from about sixty in the shade to eighty. I clap my sticks together and cry out a song about the cliffs, about the river. It was a good thing at this point to be so far out in the wilderness. I feel that I am communicating with the ravens and turkey vultures circling high overhead. I feel the message of eternity flowing through me, “be here, be now,” the most important lesson perhaps that this world (which is nothing else if not distracting!) has to teach an eternal being.
Inexplicably, I think of shaman then and cry out happily, giddily, “O you shaman, you!” I guess I know that the shaman must also come to this place of white stone, white bone, to this place of blinding white light where nothing is hidden, where there is not the slightest shadow of self in which to hide ….

I feel through this energy how profoundly much I do NOT inhabit my own body. I feel how all of my life I have rejected the fullest expression of my being. I did not really possess my self. I pictured myself then standing alone in long, white robes, a drooping white hood keeping my face in shadow. I was not living, I was observing. I was not the character, I was the writer. To have observed so very much and yet know so very little, I wondered a little shrilly. It was kind of terrifying. I feel as though I could slip into insanity here like breaking through rotten flooring into a basement.
I am beginning to come down.
I feel myself coming down through layers, the sensation of down, of returning back to this earth, returning slowly layer by layer of reality to my actual body collapsed now in the shade overlooking this bright field. The Gila turns a bend to my left under the cliffs and a ribbon of new green spring leaf follows it in the form of various blooming plants drawn intimately close to the precious water of the Gila. I see it frothing white in places. I hear the cascading of water.
What could I have done to have sentenced myself to death? I wondered helplessly.
Why would I want to punish myself by blowing my own head off! There it was, right there. Somehow I did not feel that I have a right to live.
Who am I to live?
As I continue down, back down, wrestling with these personal questions, grappling with the reality of my own dispossession. Was I always like this? It seems not. I recalled being a careless child. Something in adolescence then - but what? Hormones? I do not recall any trauma. Sure I had the bad childhood but who doesn’t? But I felt how I could never give myself to anything my whole life long and I felt how this was because I never did possess myself to give. I was just watching this self. No wonder I felt no joy! You have to possess your own being to feel joy! As I continued down through the layers over a number of hours, I began to think of myself in the 3rd person - “we’re coming down now” as if to emphasize the disassociation.
Have I rejected my incarnation?

I watch other people in wonder, “how do they have so much fun? Watching sports, dancing, whatever?” I think back to third grade watching newsreels of Hitler rallies in Nazi Germany at how appalled I was - not by the fascism, I was too young to really understand that, but by that vision of crowds numbering in the thousands all performing together, as if all were just one super organism - I rejected it viscerally. It made me want to flee the classroom. All those thousands in perfect unity like that! It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Why? I was so young with so little experience - it was like an instinct. It was daunting to discover how perpetual my condition was. I never was a joiner. I never felt the jingoism of country going to war, never felt really the team spirit of being part of a team, even though I played sports. I cannot begin to imagine actually feeling some connection to a commercial or collegiate sports team? I began to wonder if I had ever truly inhabited my own body? No wonder then that my experiences with these mushrooms were so compelling - this was the only time that I felt connected.
Otherwise, I was not connected, fundamentally not connected and so for hours I wrestled with this as the Spring winds added their constant sighing to the cascading of the river. What would it feel like to be connected? Perhaps if I try hard enough I can imagine connection ...
I grow morose.
I know this is what I came here for but am already sick of my self and weary to go back to thinking of nothing. Back to that place in my self where eternity is only a word. That is the place where I feel comfortable, the place that I am used to.
The only answer was to be here and be now. That feels a little to much like a bumper sticker to me: “Be Here, Be Now” and as soon as eternity stops tapping Her finger and calling me back, I drift more and more out of the moment as I come down. I feel hollow and depressed. The come down is jagged and hard and painful, as if cramming myself back into a broken jar or squeezing through a window full of ragged, broken glass. I feel that fully inhabiting my own being is hopeless - actually, what I think is : “We will never inhabit our own being!” And even though it is a beautiful Spring afternoon, I sit gloomily in the shade feeling quite helpless and hopeless. I feel sorry for myself, for being so close to eternity and yet so far away.
I was just there and it was so real, I insist to myself but almost not believing it already.
How could I be eternity - hell, I am not even really here?

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

July 4th Weekend - Backpacking Trip - Sierra Nevada Range

2008-07-02T19:26:55Z

Greeetings Backpackers,

On the heels of our last little foray into the wild over Memorial Weekend my thoughts have turned to where we might wish to venture on our next little walk in the woods. Options abound and this time my thoughts are cast towards much higher and more scenic elevations.

Again, a destination on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada range in or near Sequoia National Park will probably be selected, unless you would prefer to do something a bit more rugged on the eastern slope (from the Owens Valley) near Mt. Whitney.

So, for a western trip I'm considering a trip that will depart from the Wolverton Trailhead near Lodgepole Campground that will either be a loop covering Alta Meadow, Moose Lake, and then Pear Lake, or an in and out to either of the lakes.

On the Eastern side, I would consider a trip to Lake Genevieve and Cloverleaf Lake up near Mammoth. This trail starts out pretty high (near Laurel Lakes) and the views and geology is outstanding. So is the fishing. This requires a 4x4 to get to the trailhead.

If there is a consensus is to add an extra day (make it a four day weekend) a longer loop becomes very desireable and other options might open up.

This trip in any configuration will probably entail some off trail hiking and, depending on route, possibly class 2 climbing. You should be in good shape and prepared to do up to 10 miles per day over mixed terrain with up to 2,500 feet in elevation gain. The minimum elevation will be about 7,000 feet and may cap out at close to 11,000 feet.

So, please post your thoughts here and we'll start collectively laying plans.

posted in Backpacking - 16 replies

Anyone here following Primal Quest?

2008-06-27T21:07:46Z

This year's Primal Quest adventure race is pretty harrowing:

10 days
500 miles
100,000 feet total elevation gain

I've been reading the blog daily - they're now in Day 4. They've already had to pull teams for medical conditions. Intense stuff.

http://www.ecoprimalquest.com

posted in Backpacking - 0 replies

Memorial Weekend Backpacking Trip - May 24 thru May 26, 2008

2008-06-02T18:45:03Z

Every year I organize a beginner's backpacking trip and this year is no exception. Everyone is welcome to join in, no matter what level of backpacking experience you may or may not have. I typically select a destination in Sequoia National Park for it's beauty and the fact it is roughly equidistant from both Los Angeles and San Francisco.

We usually leave the city after work on Friday night, make the drive to a designated, easily located rendezvous point (either a campground or a friend's house near the trailhead), hike in on Saturday, lounge, fish, or dayhike on Sunday, and then hike out on Monday to make the drive back home.

The cost for the weekend is minimal, especially when carpooling. I am happy to loan equipment to anyone who might need to borrow stuff for the trip. Being a total gearhead, I have enough extra equipment and outdoor clothing to outfit a small army.

More specific information will be posted in this thread as time goes by.

So, if you think you might want to join in on this trip, please post your intentions.

posted in Backpacking - 50 replies

Back country backpacking in Yellowstone National Park. Experiences? Favorite Routes?

2008-05-29T19:56:48Z

Hello!
New to this Tribe and new to back country back packing. My husband and I want to go to Yellowstone end of June and do some back country camping. Anyone have any experience and/or advice with this area? What is your favorite route or camping spot? Is June a smart time to go or are we risking having rainy, cold weather? Thanks in advance for any input!
Tiffany

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

Yosemite: Ten Lakes or Waterwheel Falls?

2008-05-26T18:06:45Z

I'm hoping to do a solo backcountry hike in Yosemite shortly; since I can go mid-week I don't expect to have too much trouble, but I'm still trying to figure out which trail to hike.

I've narrowed it down to three, all close to each other north of Tioga Pass Road. They are:

1) Waterwheel Falls via Glen Aulin: I'd like to see the falls at full roar, but I hate hiking out the same path I hiked in on.

2) Tuolumne Meadows-Glen Aulin-Cold Canyon/Waterwheel-Pate Valley-Hardin Lake-White Wolf: much longer, at something like 23 miles, but the big problem (other than several killer elevation changes) is that I have no idea of how to get from one trailhead to another. I'd park my motorcycle at one end, but which? And how to get back to it from the other end? (YART doesn't start service until June; even then they'll be weekends only).

3) Ten Lakes trail: This is the default, in case others fall through; I'd probably rather head here in late summer once the active waterworks are no longer a draw, and once the lakes have warmed up a bit.

So: any help with...

* Does anyone have any experience with any other these, especially the second? I'd especially like to hear about good campsite locations; or seasonal difficulties fording the various streams.

* Transit suggestions? I suspect my only option is to hitchhike, which I've never attempted in this country (only in Ireland and New Zealand), although I'm hopeful that even a single man wearing a backpack standing at a trailhead in Yosemite might have a chance of a ride...

* Is this the **Absolutely Killer Best!** time of year for any of these, or perhaps **No! Wait until September!** for any?

Any other comments would, of course, be welcome.

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

New Travel Pictures Country next to Country

2008-05-23T04:27:05Z

Kenya - Belgium New November 2007 Travel Pictures side by side

Hi,

This Kenya-Belgium website displays several pages each one containing two comparative (similar, contrastive, ...) photos. Let your thoughts flow freely and enjoy:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/the_mighty_us_and_mighty_dollars.html
Click the "-->"-button on the page opened for the following new pictures.

Best regards, BoBi

Annex: overview of the new photos:

the Kenyan Matatu Mighty US and a Keytrade advertising panel with Mighty Dollars:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/the_mighty_us_and_mighty_dollars.html
the Kenya Commercial Bank and the Keytrade Bank:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_bank_on_the_internet_and_a_bank_on_the_belgian_internet.html
a Kenyan Forest and a Belgian Woodland:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_forest_and_a_belgian_woodland.html
a Kenyan Bird and a Belgian Gull:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_16_en/a_kenyan_bird_and_a_gull_in_belgium.html
a Crowd of Kenyan matatus and a Crowd of Belgian cars:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/a_crowd_of_kenyan_matatus_and_a_crowd_of_belgian_cars.html
the Kenyan Harbour of Mombasa and the Belgian Harbour of Zeebrugge:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/the_kenyan_harbour_of_mombasa_and_the_belgian_harbour_of_zeebrugge.html
a Kenyan boat and a Belgian Patrol boat:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/a_kenyan_boat_and_a_belgian_patrol_boat.html
the Kenyan National Vegetable Sukuma wiki and the Belgian National Vegetable Chicory:
http://www.dongo.org/kenya-belgium/list_17_en/the_kenyan_national_vegetable_sukuma_wiki_and_the_belgian_national_vegetable_chicory.html

posted in Backpacking - 9 replies

Favorite No-fuss Recipes

2008-05-21T18:00:30Z

Heading out this Memorial Day Weekend. Need easy-peasy recipes/ideas for 2 people (or that can be scaled down.) I like pretty much anything except corn, cinnamon, and cooked apples, and my man won't do fish unless we've caught it ourselves [read: über fresh], and we're both trying to ease off of most red meat because of stomach issues , though for some reason well-done ground beef/lamb seems to be ok. I've got a few ideas, but a fresh perspective is always welcome. We'll probably have a cooler with us, but it's not going to hold a whole lot more than the essentials [a 6-pack of Heineken, vodka, etc. *wink*], so bear that in mind.

Any ideas you can spare in your busy prep time for the weekend will be a lifesaver.

Thanks!

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Bivvy pack

2008-05-20T22:05:33Z

I'm thinking about making my bivvy bag into a backpack.
dual purpose so.... less weight....
I'm just not sure about repacking every morning.... I suppose I do already because my sleeping pad is the frame of my pack...
suggestions ? ideas ?

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

Backpacking Big Bend

2008-05-19T23:19:40Z

Just got back from a 3 day solo around the Emory Peak region. Carrying water is an interesting feature. The recommendation to carry a gallon for each day is very good advice indeed. Will try to post pictures sometime. I love this place. Saw only one hiker on the majority of the trail system I was on.

posted in Backpacking - 7 replies

Montana

2008-05-17T00:10:54Z

Hi... I have a business trip to Montana coming up in June and I have a chance to go in for the weekend. Anyone have any thoughts/experience on the Missoula to Kalispell area?
Thanks,
Paul

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Arnold's NOT going to close 48 CA parks now

2008-05-15T17:02:47Z

http://www.savestateparks.org/cspf-statement-on-revise.html

Finally, the Governor woke up to what tens of thousands of Californians throughout the state have been saying for months– that our precious state park resources are not to be taken for granted and it's essential to keep the doors to our state parks open and keep lifeguards on our state beaches. It's clear that the May Revise is responding to the overwhelming statewide outcry opposing the closure of state parks.

The Governor's proposal is headed in the right direction and staves off an immediate crisis for our state parks. But whether "cage-rattling" or not, the Governor's original threat to close 48 state parks and reduce staffing on 16 highly-used state beaches showed how woefully underfunded our state park system has been for years.

All Californians should be able to afford to visit their state parks and should not have to worry, year-to-year, that their parks are in danger of being shut down. The Governor and the Legislature should be working to identify long-term funding solutions that support our state parks, address the more than $1.2 billion in deferred maintenance backlog, and keep them open and accessible for all Californians. The California State Parks Foundation and our partners in the Save Our State Parks campaign will continue to fight for those long-term solutions and urge the Governor and Legislature to join us in that effort.

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Oregon section of PCT

2008-05-12T06:54:01Z

I've got about a month's vacation coming up...
I would like to hike the PCT section through Oregon.

What's the rain like in June/July ?

I've heard it can be dreary and the views are diminished ... is this true ?
What about the Cascades ? I've heard you can make fast time through that section.

What's a good trailhead to start at near the California/Oregon border ?

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

Safety

2008-04-04T23:23:02Z

So let's do address the issue of safety. How does one stay safe while hiking/camping? What are some of the things you do?

Me? I look 'em in the eye, and I'm pretty intimidating. Street-smarts tend to work in the woods. I also know how to handle myself in most situations, and when all else fails, I carry. What do you do?

posted in Backpacking - 29 replies

Guadalupe Mountains, TX Report

2008-03-25T00:10:47Z

Where to begin! Let's just say we picked the right place: http://www.nps.gov/gumo is the government link.

The Guadalupe Mountains are simply perfect for a backpacker looking for a 2 day moderate to strenuous hike. We ascended 2000+ ft on the first day on the Tejas Trail, set up a base camp, and then were free to ramble up top on the Bowl Trail and Juniper Trail. The cool thing about the Guadalupes is that there is mostly desert terrain at the bottom, but once you climb up there are pine trees everywhere. The length of our trip was limited by the amount of water we could carry, since there is no water available once you start.

Gorgeous views the whole hike, and although the climb is definitely a tall one, the trails are well graded and maintained. We saw plenty of mule deer and lizards and butterflies and birds. The temperature was about 60-70 degrees in the day time and 30-40 degrees at night, and we were there late March. It did get windy at night too.

Within the rest of the park, there are plenty of day trails ranging from handicapped accessible to a 3000+ ft climb to the highest point in Texas. We did a really nice day hike called the Smith Spring trail which started at a museum tour of an old ranch house and brought us to a little desert oasis, 2.5 miles loop.

Also, the Guadalupe Mountains are about an hour's drive from the Carlsbad Caverns, which are probably the most amazing earth formation that I've ever seen (we spent about 6 hours down there).

Let me know if you have any questions!

Oh, and yes, I did bring collapsible hoops up the climb (see my posted photo) :-) And it was awesome!

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Donate your pack to at risk children

2008-03-24T23:59:10Z

The Donate-A-Pack Foundation exists to benefit at-risk, low income, or disabled youth in Southern California by enabling them to partake in an outdoor wilderness experience.

http://donateapack.org/about.html

so if you have a backpack you're not using laying around... give it a new life.

posted in Backpacking - 1 reply

Recommendations?

2008-03-17T23:59:42Z

Hi Backpacking group! Nice to meet you all. I usually spend my tribe days over in the hula hoop group, so it's nice to find there are other things to do on tribe. :-)

Anyway, I'm writing because me and two of my friends are planning on going backpacking somewhere in the United States for spring break, but really have no idea where to go. It's kind of nice having options open, but there's so much to choose from and our trip is in about a week and a half. We are looking for a moderate 3 days hike, perhaps in a desert area? But we're open to anything. We live in Wisconsin and it's been a cold winter and I'm ready for some sunshine so that's the only real requirement. I'm hoping to drive no more than 24 hours to get to the trail head. If you have any ideas, please let me know! I would love to check something new out.

Thanks for the help!

Danielle

posted in Backpacking - 13 replies

That Georgia hiker, and personal safety

2008-03-14T23:35:12Z

That evil bastard just led police to that young woman's body. I realize this situation is very rare, but I imagine a lot of us are thinking about how we would handle personal safety out in the woods. I go backpacking alone plenty of times, but I'm a 200-lb male. What do you think? Do stories like this make you feel any less safe in the woods? Do you think about that when you're out on the trail? How much do you trust strangers in the backcountry?

posted in Backpacking - 35 replies

Forest of Nisene Marks State Park, CA

2008-02-27T22:42:26Z

Nisene Marks backpacking report:

The backwoods are very nice, typical thick dense redwood forest, little creeks in steep thick dark canyons (don't try to do a lot of river walking unless you're ready for a real adventure!), nice views in a few places, but it's mostly dense forest. The forest is recovering nicely from being clear-cut years ago, and there's a lot of fairy rings, some with 10+ new trees (actual tree-size trunks) sprouting up from around giant stumps.

Lotsa mountain bikers too.

The trail camp leaves a lot to be desired. It has an outhouse, and it's a perfectly decent campsite, it's just that it's really nothing special, some of the sites are too close together, the place could use some maintenance attention, but most importantly, THERE'S NO WATER! The map I had showed a stream within 0.5 mile, but there was no stream to be found, just a stagnant puddle near a culvert 1 mile DOWNHILL from the campsite. It's just not a good place for a camp. I figured with all the recent rains there should be some running water somewhere up there, at least a trickle coming out of the side of a roadcut, but not even that.

I had a visitor in the middle of the night, something dog-sized, maybe a pig or coyote or deer? It wouldn't run away even after I shone the light and threw branches at it, it just waited for me to calm down, turn off the light, and then it started moving around again. We carried on this way for about an hour until I just got tired and fell back asleep. The place is pretty wild at night because even though there's a lot of day use, people don't camp there much.

I didn't make the hike from the camp to the Five Finger Falls, but I did go to the Loma Prieta Earthquake epicenter. There's a sign and a buncha trees.

Again, not so great for backpacking, but it's a great place for long dayhikes.

posted in Backpacking - 2 replies

Shedding the Weight w/o Losing Suspension Support

2008-02-25T06:19:25Z

So I just gave my pack away. I was unhappy with the fit after I lost a lot of weight. So it's better for my friend. Boy was it hard to let go! I think I'm still grieving.

Now, I'm in the market for a new pack. I want something light yet I don't want to lose a good, comfortable, supportive suspension system. Am I asking too much?

Size: Around 3000 cubic inches, give or take

A lot of packs I'm looking at seem to weigh 4 lbs 7 ounces. For some reason that seems heavy to me. I'm going for a women's specific pack since I am rather small.

Use will mostly be for weekend trips 1-3 days. I do longer ones not that often so when the time comes for those I can problem solve then.

I'm 5'4" and 105 pounds (yeah some of you could carry me in your pack with the loads you bear!) so I really don't want or like to carry more than 30 pounds. My husband will carry a heavier pack. We're kinda minimalists.

There is just so much damn research and stuff to check out that I figured this was a good place to start and get some advice.

So suggestions?

Thanks!

posted in Backpacking - 18 replies

Winter Trip Report New Hampshire

2008-02-21T13:18:13Z

My buddy Roger and I headed up from Washington DC to the Pemigewasset wilderness in the White Mountain National Forest of New Hampshire. We Parked off of the Kancamagus Hwy at the Pemigewasset river. It was the middle of January with about five to six feet of snow cover. We had snow shoes and skis. I was pulling a sled with a hip belt attachment because I had recently broken my right clavicle - shoulder - and could not carry a pack. Roger carried a big old winter pack. The advantage was that I could carry a shit load of stuff but the disadvantage was that Roger had to traipse behind me and re-right it when it toppled over - the sled did fine except for on transverse slopes and there were plenty of those where we went, up the east branch of the Pemigewasset river. It was 5F degrees and snowing lightly as we made our way up the trail easily since it had been packed for us by countless others - at least for the first few miles. About three miles in we were crossing a frozen side branch. I went first on my skis and made it fine but when Roger crossed with his snow shoes and pack weight overtop him instead of behind him as with my sled, he broke through with his right leg up to his crotch. He had a difficult time getting out with his snow shoe below the ice resting upon the rocky bottom of the creek. He crawled the rest of the way, not easy on ice with a heavy pack, snowshoes and poles.
Once he made it across he took off his pack and then removed his soaked socks to replace them, dumping icy water onto the snow laughing. He set the socks from his right foot on a stone next to him and then by the time he could dig out fresh socks and get them on, the wet sock had frozen solid. Roger picked it up and waved it, frozen solid. That impressed us both. He said his foot was freezing even in his fresh socks and I said fuck this we’re camping. I told him to put on another pair of dry socks and change into dry pants while I went up ahead and found a suitable campsite. I would have to pack one down most likely anyway we’d have to wait 30 minutes or so for it to harden before putting the tent on it. We seldom made fires in the wilderness but I knew a fire was in our near future on this late afternoon. I didn’t want to go further into this wilderness on deep snow except with all of our strength - I already had a broken shoulder to hold us back.
I found a spot only a few hundred feet up the Wilderness trail but in order to get to it I had to go up a very steep if small embankment and I had to take off my skis and post hole up the embankment, hauling my sled up behind me by holding onto its hip strap with my right hand. About half way up the embankment I heard and felt something pop. It was my right hand. The pain was so bad that I let go of the sled and it slipped back down the embankment and across the trail. I took off my glove and there was a big lump on the top of the back of my hand. I had been trying to keep the weight from pulling on my shoulder and evidently did a pretty good job of this, transferring the weight to my arm and hand instead. I learned later that a tendon had popped out of the sheath holding it, a kind of hernia in my hand. Upon the advice of a physical therapist, I put two quarters over the lump and then slammed my hand with a large book - took a couple of very painful efforts but the third slam was a charm and popped the tendon back in where it belonged and I had to no further problems from it - but that was well after we got home over a week later. For the rest of our trip I avoided using my right hand whenever possible, along with my right shoulder.
Roger came up as I was descending to fetch my sled.
“You haven’t made much progress there, Dave” he commented.
I told him what happened and we both pulled the sled up this time, Roger still in his pack and snowshoes. It was a typical camp along the small river under large pine. After we packed down a tent site, we kicked in steps down to the water and packed them also, packing down a path from the tent site to the water and another in the other direction to a suitable bathroom site. This way once we settled in we could move around without putting snowshoes on. Next we set about gathering wood while the tent base hardened. Even though I had a good bit of experience on snow, this was the first time that I collected wood on snowshoes, which presented it’s own challenges.
I had my traditional hot chocolate with half a stick of butter melted in just before retiring and it kept me warm all night. Ah, rich, creamery butter, the winter campers friend!
It continued to snow lightly but steadily all along. Normally in the winter I’ll hunker down inside the tent but since we had a fire we both hung out at the fire pit enjoying the fire and the continuing snowfall. It was still about 5 degrees above zero. Roger had more experience with fires and handled the fire and the drying of his clothes and much to his credit, he didn’t burn anything. That night it went down to about 20 below zero and it snowed about six to eight inches. Roger insisted on sleeping outside the tent on the ground next to the fire. In the morning when I peeked out of the tent there was just a big, white lump where Roger was laying - the lump was almost imperceptibly moving with his breath and I was glad to see that he didn’t suffocate under his tarp. He reminded me of the sled dogs that I had seen on television burying themselves into the snow for the night. Since he was outside it was easy to set my stove in the vestibule and start water for coffee. A short while later, the sled dog arose from under his blanket of snow no worse for the wear except some condensation on the top of his bag. Roger is hard core.
“Warm night”, he commented, shaking some snow out of his hair.
This day the easy railroad grade trail shifted higher up away from the river and onto a narrow hiking trail rising up and down with lay of the land and incoming creeks. Would have been a piece of cake were it not for the sled. Neither of us had been up this trail before but it looked okay on the topo map. The devil really is in the details! I tried as best I could but transverse slopes are the sleds greatest weakness and especially since we were breaking trail and the sled had no track to follow in, it would slide down slope, sometimes the two bars attaching the sled to my hip belt twisting in the process and then the whole thing getting caught in the trunks of the small trees that lined the trail. This meant that I had to break trail all day and Roger had to constantly shove and lift this hundred pound sled and beside becoming exhausted, he hurt his back at one point and we had to take a long break.
“Your sled is killing me,” he said, laughing.
His back was hurting pretty good but he could still carry his pack. Like I said, Roger is hardcore. The normal concerns with pain and comfort that the rest of us tend to focus on mean nothing to Roger. As soon as we made it through the rough stuff and back down along the river, we found a camp and called it a day - maybe managed three miles. I didn’t say anything to Roger but pretty much cancelled our circuit and figured we would hike straight through to RT302 and then hitch back to the car. There was a fairly easy route straight through that should afford the easiest exit in terms of following mostly old railroad grades along the valleys. Finishing our circuit would definitely put us back into sled pulling hell and I knew Roger would never say nay, I figured that was pushing it just too far. If his back went out completely that would leave me with my broken shoulder and broken hand to haul him out on the sled. After spending six hours to go three miles, I had no illusions about this - it just wasn’t going to happen. Roger pretty much left route finding to me. He’s really into The Now and staring at a map is just not his thing, I think.
The next day the going was easier and the temperature rose almost to freezing, the high of our trip so far. I don’t think it had gotten above 10 degrees above zero since we arrived. We ended up in only T shirts. We entered an inner valley area where the land flattened out into a broad almost level area. I had the sense then of really being “in the wilderness” especially since this was the deepest in that we could go, no roads for many, many miles. On the east coast this was as wilderness as you could get. We were actually technically on the border of the official wilderness but the surrounding White Mountain national forest afforded plenty of wilderness even without the official designation. The bad thing was that there were no signs and no topography to navigate by so we had a hard time finding our way through a maze of trails and old roads crisscrossing the valley. We were looking for a shelter that was on the map just across the border of the wilderness area where shelters are allowed. We finally muddled our way through and when we broke out into an open meadow with the shelter sitting on the other side, under a bright sun, we cheered. That shelter was like the Hilton to us and there was no one in it as might be found during the summer months around here. In fact, we never saw anyone else on the whole trip except the first two miles in from the parking area. It was only about one in the afternoon and we didn’t need a fire to dry anything, just stretching everything out under the sun, including our sleeping bags. My God the luxury one feels when finding a shelter like this in the wilderness. Even in the shade of the shelter where I set up with stove and sleeping pad, spreading out across “our” shelter luxuriously, I was plenty warm with only a light jacket. It felt like summer to us. Someone had left the largest can of Dinty-Moore beef stew that I had ever seen on a shelf in the shelter. It must have been half a gallons worth which we polished off, sorry I know that to anyone not out in the wilderness a half gallon of Dinty Moore Beef Stew sounds nauseating even to think about.
We felt like we had found and Eden in the Pemigewasset wilderness of New Hampshire.
That night I had a nightmare involving my wife needing help back in Virginia and I woke up really spooked by it. That feeling that something was wrong and that she needed me was strong. All that guilt from years of leaving her alone while I go adventuring. I knew she was a strong and totally independent woman but still … that damn nightmare. It followed me the rest of the trip really until I hit a phone and called my wife days later. I told myself it was foolish to overreact to a nightmare. On one of the coldest days on record, my wife had broken down in Roger’s truck and had to wait hours for help, nothing too serious but probably made her so pissed at me for pawning off Roger’s truck on her - I had wanted 4 wheel drive for where we were going up in New England - that her pissed off vibes were enough to give me a nightmare. Her psychic pay back was my spending those days with that little uncertainty. She laughed about it when I told her. She was from south Texas and literally had never experienced this kind of cold before and spoke about the cold more with extreme dislike than anything else. When I told her that it had hit 25 below zero where we were, she gasped in horror.
There were no chocolates or turned down pillows but the little, three sided shelter was the Hilton that night. Plus we got to both dry the tent out and then in the morning to skip the ordeal of taking the tent down. In the morning it was warm and I began to worry if it might not get a little too warm. Nothing worse than six feet of wet, melting snow. Sure enough the warm front stuck for a few days and under a close winter’s sun the snow softened up, especially later in the day. Since we were in the shelter it was easy to break camp early and we did hoping to get off the snow by mid day. About a mile up the trail we came across tracks on the trail that looked like two people had post holed right down the trail. We followed these tracks all day and I kept commenting on them, thinking how tired I was even on skis.
“Roger, these poor people post holed for miles in this snow,” I would say to him with amazement.
Finally we saw the Moose who had made them and boy did I feel stupid. But even for a Moose that has to be a lot of work. Roger had a good laugh at that one.
The worst was crossing a wide wetland where my skis and Roger’s snowshoes kept punching through into water. When I took my skis out of the water and pushed into the snow, snow packed up under it in huge amounts that made it impossible to move. I had to take off my skis and clean them about a million times and we sloshed our way to another three sided shelter. I just screamed out loud at one point after sinking into the water for the one millionth time. The good thing for me was how perfect this trail was for my sled. It also had to be cleaned after sinking in the water but it did not sink as much as did my skis - lot more weight on them. Roger broke trail all day since he didn’t have to constantly right the sled and I couldn’t complain about that. The shelter was on a large pond and again we had it to ourselves. Temperatures were in the 20s when we finally settled into the shelter and we hoped the next day, our last, would bring us a little firmer snow. No Dinty Moore. Even after crushing the humongous can as best we could, it still seemed to take up half my sled. We had to settle on mountain house this night. Roger still was having a lot of pain with his back but it sure didn’t slow him down much. I had spent most of the day following his tracks. I told him to save himself, I was going to need help with the descent down to RT 302. It was only the last mile after an easy grade from here to the descent.
Roger groaned. He didn’t seem encouraged.
The temperature dipped only in the low teens and when we left the shelter it was around freezing and uncomfortably windy. Sure enough we found it easy on a railroad grade again until the descent. It was rough. One of the poles connecting the sled to my hip belt snapped and I ended up lowering the pack in front of my using the one remaining pole. Roger had a hard enough time with his pack and snowshoes on the narrow, path down through virgin snow. Fortunately it was extremely steep all the way down to the road and all I had to do guide the sled as I slipped down the mountain. We really had a hard time with it and were glad it was only a mile. Between his back and my broken sled, we limped into the parking area along RT302. I had a plan for hitching but Roger was reluctant to play along. I finally convinced him to simply lay down next to his pack and make himself comfortable and read while I hitched. I wanted him to stay here with the packs. He resisted the idea of playing disabled but I knew how hard it was going to be to get a ride. I was counting on some sympathy. Of course, it turned out to be a state trouper who was the first sympathetic soul.
“No I’m not hurt,” Roger insisted. I told the officer how brave Roger was but that he really had hurt his back pretty badly and we were trying to hitch a ride back to the trailhead, having limped down to this road in duress. Hey, I’m not proud. Maybe the trooper would help - I already knew that hitch hiking wasn’t illegal. The officer said good luck and a couple people stopped also inquiring whether or not Roger was okay. Roger found this to be very annoying but I saw it as success - my plan was working perfectly. But finally we got a ride and the guy said that he would take me back to the Kancamagus trailhead to my car. He was out for the day downhill skiing and did some backpacking himself in the summer. Just the kind of guy I was looking for! We chatted on the ride over which was pretty long and I found out that he had worked for over 20 years for the same corporation and intended to stay there until retirement. I was amazed that someone could be happy but he was. He liked his work, it paid well and offered a lot a vacation time as well as good benefits. Although I was inspired, I was not that guy. I thought of that guy for years afterwards. I held him up as an example for myself but It was not my destiny to be happy with the corporate life.
Not too long after I got in I pulled down the zipper on my gore Tec jacket and he started waving his hand and simultaneously rolling down the winders - “please, zip that back up!” he begged. I immediately zipped it up tight to my neck.
Besides being chagrined for both stinking so much and not being aware of it, I didn’t want to get thrown out!
After I picked up Roger we only got in one fight all the way back to Virginia. Roger wanted to go into a sit down restaurant but I wanted to go thru a drive thru and keep getting up - I knew how bad we smelled, he didn’t! Fuck ‘em, he said. But he didn’t understand how bad it was - we might well get thrown out!

posted in Backpacking - 2 replies

Big Sur / Sykes Hot Springs

2008-02-21T06:28:58Z

Hi all,

It looks like the weather is going to be nice through this weekend so I am thinking of hiking the 10 or so miles into the Sykes Hot Springs Sun, Mon,and Tues:)

Has anyone been there before or does any one know how I will fair this time of year? Is it so off season that I will be the only one? Any information would be appreciated:)

Thanks
Phil

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

Fast Trail Food Trial?

2008-02-19T03:36:00Z

Here's something I tripped across whist on the Burning Man tribe....

Are you ready for a cheeseburger in a can?

http://www.gizmag.com/the-canned-cheeseburger--fast-food-in-the-wilderness/8713/

Gads! What next?

posted in Backpacking - 10 replies

power up for your hike

2008-02-19T03:31:23Z

http://www.radiolabs.com/products/electronics/power/solar-panel.php

solar panels ...
I am planning to put some on the next backpack I make.

posted in Backpacking - 16 replies

Guns in the backcountry....

2008-02-07T20:59:29Z

The last time we had a discussion about guns in the backcountry it got really nasty and I had to delete a large percentage of the postings since they degenerated into personal attacks and some members even left tribe over the discussion topic. Please remember that this tribe is actively moderated and I will delete any posting that I feel is out of line. This is an important and very emotional issue for many of us and if we can all be polite I'm curious as to what your feelings on the matter are.

Despite being somewhat of a collector, I rarely carry a firearm while backpacking and it's purely a matter of the location of the trailhead. It's illegal to carry a gun in most US National Parks (there are exceptions) and I don't feel a need to 99 percent of the time. The only time I have ever felt that I might have needed one was returning to a trailhead after a weekend trip and finding a car broken into (not mine) in the parking lot and a group of what sounded like gang banger types partying within earshot. Other than that, bears, snakes and wildlife does not intimidate me and I don't like the extra weight on my shoulder strap.

So, how many of you will or do "carry", if so what type, and why.

posted in Backpacking - 31 replies

Arnold wants to close 48 CA parks!!

2008-02-05T04:04:40Z

Including Portola Redwoods, Henry Coe, Clear Lake, Del Norte Coast Redwoods, and many other priceless gems! See them while you can before that moron meathead turns them all into privately-run McParks!

here's some pages to go protest at:

a letter-writing form to CA state legislators:
http://ga3.org/campaign/KeepStateParksOpen

from this website:
www.calparks.org/

here's a thread with the news items
http://bayareahiking.tribe.net/thread/427b13be-7308-4cce-998a-cfe72cac776c

SF Gate article:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2008/01/17/MN5TUF5D3.DTL

posted in Backpacking - 8 replies

hiking boots: The rubbish and the ones you would take to wedding if you could

2008-02-01T17:20:02Z

In Australia we get some great U.S boot made in China, and fantastic boots that are made in Narm...I'm not knockin they LOOK WOW

posted in Backpacking - 16 replies

Trekking Nepal

2008-01-23T16:28:53Z

Just looking for some advice on Nepal treks. Anyone have any recommendations or advice? Things to see or avoid? Basically what I am looking to do is hit a spot not too overrun with outsiders where I can see a bit of the real Nepal. I am planning on two to three weeks total for the trip.

I would also be interested in doing volunteer work if that would be possible. Perhaps spend a bit of time helping out where a strong back and weak mind would be appreciated.

Scott

posted in Backpacking - 0 replies

On the loose and heading west astride a horse with no name!

2008-01-19T16:26:31Z

It was sometime during the spring of 1972 when I first saw the book. I was visiting a friend and happened to see it resting on a chair-side table. The book was somewhat subtle, even nondescript in the province of eye-catchiness. That is, until I opened it and began to read and gaze at the photos! The book was “On the Loose” by Terry and Renny Russell.

Also about this time, my Uncle (yeah, the Big one) had just bid me adieu and I bought my first car with the savings garnered from several years of his employ. In addition to that I was in a state of free-time (between jobs, you might say), and then there was this spellbinding song that if I weren’t playing it (vinyl back then), it was looping in my head. The song was “Horse With No Name” by America. Now churn all these things together and there could have been but one result for moi: Hit the road and head west!

So with backpacking and camping gear (mostly army surplus back then), some food, about $150 in cash, and my father’s Gulf Oil charge card, I headed west from Georgia. I did stop on the Gulf Coast to visit a cousin and then a friend, but I was soon following the yellow brick road of I-10 as if in a race with the sun to the horizon!

The names Big Bend, Gila, Casa Grande, and Joshua Tree still stick in my mind, as do Sequoia, Kings Canyon, and Yosemite. Then it was on to Death Valley and eventually to the Grand Canyon where I was able to walk through time and learn important things first hand… things like: A ring-tailed cat will pester you for food the live-long night!

I was gone about a month and there were many other stops, hikes, and experiences (too many to list here) along the way, but this piece is more about the inspiration behind it all: A simple book consisting of quotes written in calligraphy and photographs described as: “as far from the photographer’s vision as cheap cameras, mediocre film, and drugstore processing could make them.”

A little later I got into Abbey, Fletcher, Muir, as well as others, but it was that small, prosaic collection of thoughts, quotes, and images from two young brothers that started it all--nuged me out the door and into a world wild and grand.

I still have my own worn copy of On the Loose, and even after three and a half decades I still get that warm feeling we call nostalgia whenever I open it, not to mention a desire to hop on a horse with no name and head west yet again!

Rest in peace, Terry… and thanks, Renny.

posted in Backpacking - 0 replies

Backpacker's Ballast

2008-01-17T21:46:11Z

Since Christmas, I've started walking again - more to burn calories than to prep for any particular trip.

I've retrieved my weight vest, too. It adjusts in half-pound increments up to 40 pounds.

I wore it today for the first time in ages. I took out half the weight (should have taken out more) and wore it on today's walk. It was quite a sweat and I'll probably be sore tomorrow.

I have ankle weights as well. Between them and the vest, I can add 55 pounds when I walk.

The theory is that it makes it much easier to wear a pack when you body is used to (or at least partially used to) wearing the extra weight. Drop off the iron ballast, throw on the pack and you should be ready to walk.

posted in Backpacking - 16 replies

Encouragement

2008-01-15T07:23:47Z

In the City, it seems that folks are afraid to look you in the eye when you pass by them. In the back country, it's RUDE to walk past someone and not acknowledge them. >>>>

I frequently encounter hikers who are more invested in discouraging you...
for instance ...
about the difficult climb ahead.

I might give people information... but it's weird when you keep meeting people who...
I guess are traumatized by their hike ?

I am almost always positive about a difficult climb...
I like to inspire people...
I really don't get the
*Oh GOD YOU'RE GOING TO DIE !" attitude.

It's rude.

posted in Backpacking - 10 replies

Floyd and the Backpacking Bicyclist

2008-01-14T21:55:43Z

Floydfest is one of my favorite music festivals. This outdoor venue is located in the heart of the mountains just off the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia and is about a seven hour drive from my home in Georgia. The eclectic mix of music genres means there’s something there for everyone: Bluegrass, folk, jambands, and world music to name several. A mellow vibe emanates from the artsy crowd of music lovers and sub-culture tribal types; an ethereal Welcome Home sign, you might say (if even for only three days).

You can camp on site (a wooded area is located on the premises), but you must park your vehicle a couple of miles away and catch a schoolbus or tractor and wagon shuttle to the festival grounds. A few people walk and pull their supplies behind them in their radio flyers. I backpack-bike it.

My first trip to Floydfest took place several years ago. Knowing the festival was located near the Blue Ridge Parkway, it was a gimmie that I’d take my bike. I figured early morning rides on the parkway would be the icing on the carnival cake (historic Mabry Mill is located just a few miles away, for example).

Upon arrival that Friday afternoon, I began to prepare my backpack in the lot where I parked my car. I had the usual primitive camping fare: Ground pad, sleeping bag, tent, headlamp (you go into a JOTS at night, you NEED one of those), a few granola bars, raingear & night clothes, and sundry other ‘couterments. Knowing there was a beer garden and at least one food vendor who would be selling $1 cheese toasts on site, I was able to lighted my pack considerably in the liquid and victual departments (I love it when survival food and ambrosia are one and the same). At least I wouldn’t be terribly top-heavy riding my bike while wearing a backpack!

So I was finally ready, donned up in my favorite tie-dye shirt, fedora hat adorned with hairpipe beads and a turkey feather (I call it macaroni), Hay-Zeus sandals, and backpack snugly on--bike was set to go with campchair positioned across the handlebars so I climbed aboard and trundled off. The cup and bearbells still tied to my pack gave off a nice, melodic jangle as I made my way across the grassy parking lot.

I soon hit the parkway pavement and turned toward the festival grounds. As one of the shuttle buses passed, I noticed a kid with his face pressed against the window waving at me--I made a quick wave back. I then approached a group of LEOs positioned conspicuously at a junction in the road so I waved again--one lifted a finger in friendly salutation. I felt safer knowing they were present, after all there were hippies and men who played banjos all around, not to mention some Africans who still beat on drums!

I finally arrived at the gate, gave the gatekeeper my ticket, and continued inside. A short distance away a group of young men milled around, and as I walked my bike past them the Rasta-capped pack leader looked my way and asked: “Dude, where did you come from?”

“Georgia,” I answered.

“Awesome, man!” he exclaimed.

I heard other accoladish mumblings from the group as they looked me over with wide and applauding eyes. The last dude and I exchanged a high five as I passed. Two paces later it dawned on me what they had thought: That I had ridden my bike all the way from Georgia instead of the parking lot two miles away! And I know I looked the part--some two-wheeled, wizened gypsy-looking entity of the road carrying his house on his back.

But I didn’t turn to clarify my answer any further; they were obviously amazed at me and I rather enjoyed the warm glow of their amazement.

Never negate a win-win situation my daddy used to say!

posted in Backpacking - 2 replies

Disclaimer

2008-01-07T19:09:07Z

Found this one on the Burning Man Tribe....

http://bm.tribe.net/thread/602df184-42fd-4404-bd40-a50c2a14a584

Does it fit?

posted in Backpacking - 5 replies

Remembrance of a cold night on the mountain....

2007-12-31T22:17:12Z

Bags of Down

Do you know what it’s like on a mountain high
When the mercury’s bottomed the glass,
And the snowbirds flee to the land in the lee
To eke out their winter repast,

When the ground’s froze hard and Jack Frost’s shard
Cuts through like fine chiseled steel,
And frost-white’s the hue of the breath you spew,
And your feet you never do feel?

It was that kind of night there on the mount
Held hard by winter’s ice traces,
When we unfurled our bags there in the swag
Of the Blue Ridge’s frigid embraces.

All through the night the wind did howl
And the snow it did swirl all ‘round,
But cozy as cozy could be were we
In our bags there on the hard ground.

And there in the gap the storm topped trees
Sent lances of limbs to the ground,
While the roar of the wind—its incessant din
Around our small camp did resound.

But there in those bags of down we did lie
Like babes in the womb so warm,
While ‘round outside in a white-ice tide
The demons of winter did swarm.

To leave this clime of thermal delight
And venture into winter’s cold quake
Was madness, pure madness, dear reader and friend
And simply one’s life to forsake.

So what force could drive a man out in the gale
To face the frost-powers that be?
So simple yet moving the answer is:
A bladder replete with pee!

(With a nod of my wool-capped head to the late Blasphemous Bill and his friend Robert)

posted in Backpacking - 4 replies

hammocking

2007-12-30T18:05:47Z

has anyone tried a Clark, Hennesey, or other backpacking hammock? And if so, what do you think of 'em?

posted in Backpacking - 10 replies

How much is mental ?

2007-12-26T10:16:00Z

How much of the backpacking experience ...
is mental...
and how much is physical ?

posted in Backpacking - 13 replies

Mary got Lost

2007-12-16T03:08:24Z

Mary wondered meaningfully what time it was. It was so dark she couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her in the tent. She thought that maybe she could hold out if it were early morning. She didn’t want to wake Jim just to hold her hand to go to the bathroom. After what seemed like an hour she couldn’t stand it anymore and resolved to get out of the tent. She already had the flashlight clutched against her chest as if it were a crucifix protecting her from vampires. She managed to get up and out of the tent without waking Jim and she was proud of that. Mary was not used to playing the part of that little lost girl and she wasn’t about to start now – only, it was awfully dark and who knew whether or not a bear or mountain lion was out there. One could be standing three feet away for all she knew. She pointed the light away from the tent so as not to bother Jim and turned it on – nothing. Damn, she had been holding that light like a talisman all night and it didn’t even work. Outside the tent there was just a little light. She knocked the flashlight against the palm of her hand as quietly as she could after stepping a few tentative feet away from the tent and it flickered uncertainly to life. My God the relief.
Get a grip, girl, she told herself in a whisper.
It seemed to provide just barely enough light and she eased into the woods looking for a play to pee. It was really hard to overcome the urge to pee practically on top of the tent but that was childish and disgusting and just thinking about it encouraged her to move even further into the woods.
I can do this, she told herself. For Christ’s sake Mary, the tent is just right there. She was not accustomed to fear and was getting pretty frustrated with herself, especially given that all this angst was over something so incredibly banal. She would feel a lot better about the whole thing if the stupid flashlight just had a strong beam instead of the weak, slightly flickering beam it now projected into the almost black wilderness. When she finally went it took about two seconds and she really felt silly about it all, smiling wryly in the dark. As she pulled up her sweats the light slipped out of her hand. Shit, pitch dark again. She picked it up and knocked it again against the palm of her hand. Numerous attempts and nothing. She felt angry at the flashlight feeling as if it had somehow seduced her out into this predicament and she wanted to smash it on the ground or just heave it off into the dark.
Every time she tried to call out to Jim, she just couldn’t do it. Finally she managed to call in a kind of ridiculous whisper. No answer. Jim could sleep through anything and she knew she was going to half to basically scream to wake him up. It struck her in an odd way then that she had never actually screamed out loud in her entire life – maybe in childhood, she couldn’t remember. This set her to knocking the stupid flashlight against her palm again only a little more fervently. The only reason she didn’t throw the goddamn useless piece of shit this time was because she reasoned that it could still serve as a weapon. The idea of being out in the dark, mountain wilderness alone with absolutely nothing at all was enough to put her over the edge – stupid flashlight, she thought, squeezing it as hard as she could in an attempt to hurt it.
In something approaching her own moment of truth, she decided that she did not want to be that woman screaming for her man and set off back to the tent. It was only literally a few feet away, she reasoned. An indeterminate amount of time later, having moved in the direction that she was certain was toward the tent, in the faintest light from the stars, she stomped her foot and whispered a heartfelt, Shit!, Shit!, Shit!. Why are you whispering, she then asked herself out loud.
“Jim!” she screamed for the first time in her life. The first time felt like a warm up and then she really let it out, “Jim! Jimmy! Please!” And this went on for a while with intermittent moments of silence as she waited for Jim’s response. When no response came she sat down and cried without the slightest self consciousness. That was probably another first. Her thoughts seemed to be wriggling around in her mind like box full of hungry puppies. She could care less about bears now.
Suddenly she felt a small hand in her own hand and she screamed like a pro leaping to her feet as if a puppet yanked up by a puppeteer. In the dim light there was a little girl still holding her hand now looking up at her with big, beautiful dark eyes and a serious expression on her tiny, child’s face. Mary realized then where that phrase about your bowels going cold as ice came from. She was so frightened she couldn’t breathe, she definitely couldn’t speak. At the same time that some part of her insisted that she run, another part was thinking how much her eyes had adjusted to the dark and how well she could see this little girl.
“It’s okay,” the little girl said, reassuringly. She reached up and placed her other hand on top of Mary’s hand and squeezed gently. “Jim’s pretty sound asleep, so I came to help you back.”
When her little hands squeezed gently around Mary’s hand, Mary felt the abject fear drain down through her legs into the earth and she felt suddenly exhausted in that way one can be so exhausted by an extreme adrenaline rush. She felt as if all the blood had drained from her head and she wobbled a little, her mind almost a blank.
“Come on,” encouraged the little girl, looking up at Mary still holding her hand. Mary noticed then almost dreamily that that the little girl wore a ball cap and a tee shirt with some kind of sport logo, short pants and cute little girl hiking boots, but it was too dark to tell the colors. As the little girl moved she pulled lightly on Mary’s hand and Mary followed her diminutive figure through the dark forest. Mary found that she had total faith in this girl but that she couldn’t quite bring herself to focus on her. Every time she wanted to say something to the little girl, like “who the hell are you” she would become distracted by negotiating the dark terrain. It seemed like they were back at the tent in less than five minutes and Mary found herself too relieved and too tired to feel as stupid as she thought she should feel – I knew it was right there, she thought.
When the little girl let go of her hand, she turned to look down at her to ask the little girl where her campsite was, where here parents were – but she was gone. The hair stood up on the back of Mary’s neck and she collapsed at the door of the tent which was still open and she screamed again, at the same time beating Jim on his head with both her fists. This time he woke up right away. It took a long time for her to stop shaking and crying and she couldn’t even speak to answer his question as to what was wrong. Finally, when she had calmed down enough to explain what had happened, Jim assured her that it had only been a bad dream. No one was camped anywhere near them, he explained to her calmly. She could tell that this was no time to debate with Jim and they both climbed into their bags and went back to sleep. Rather, Jim went back to sleep. Mary lay awake the rest of the night, every so often glancing out the open door of the tent into the dark.
Just before dawn she said softly under her breath, “thank you” and fell asleep for a few hours.

posted in Backpacking - 2 replies

Backpacking/Nixon Resignation/Explosion

2007-12-15T15:19:50Z

I went on my first backpacking trip when I was fourteen with a YMCA group. We went up into the Shenandoah National Park and it happened to be the week that Nixon resigned. Our leader was a 19 year old college student studying anthropology named Lisa. I, of course, feel totally and completely and instantly in love with her. We ended up sharing a tent and words could not possibly express how thrilled I was by this. I doubt I slept much the whole week, thinking as she slept next to me, “oh my God, she’s sleeping right next to me”. I thought that I was very cool about my feelings for her and that no one suspected, even Lisa herself. I was keenly aware that there was no hope for us due to our age difference such that this would be both my first experience with love and my first experience with unrequited love. Out of my love for her, I made it my business to take care of everything that I could. I took the inevitable problem kid under my wing so as to leave Lisa free to deal with everything else. I ended up transferring 80-90 percent of his stuff into my backpack just to keep him from literally crying. He was small kid for his age and he was only about ten, I think. Most of the other kids kind of hated him almost instinctually in that Lord of the Flies kind of way. I told Lisa to go ahead with the others and I would stay with this pour little guy. If he was perceived as slowing everyone down, it would just make it worse for him. At times we walked hand and hand and I did feel sorry for the little guy, he was definitely not having a good time.
When little Robert and I caught up to the group they were strewn out along the side of a creek. Some already had tents up. I stopped next to Lisa who was standing next to the creek.
“Lisa, I’m dying of thirst,” I said, “where do I get water around here?”
She laughed, thinking that I was making a joke then looked really surprised when she realized that I was serious. She pointed to the creek flowing literally at my feet and said, “right there, David,”.
I came from the city and the last thing I would think to do was drink out of a creek because they were hopelessly polluted. I don’t know what I expected but I never dreamed that you could simply drink water out of a creek. “That’s safe to drink?” I asked skeptically. She assured me that it was and partly because she was the leader and partly because I loved her so much, I accepted that as 100 percent truth and flung off my backpack and dropped to my knees and drank right out of the creek like an animal. It was wonderful. I thought, man, this is the coolest thing ever! I just couldn’t believe it. I was blown away. When I stood up finally, Lisa pointed out that I could use a cup if I wanted to.
A while later I was feeling very sick. I withdrew away from the group and sat behind a large tree. I didn’t want Lisa to see me in my weakened condition so I hid out there for quite a while – dehydration, probably since I had not drank much until reaching camp. I wanted to just shake it off so bad but every time I tried to stand up, I became violently ill and threw up. I figured that it would be best to stay incognito behind my tree than to go wandering around camp throwing up.
After a good hour or two, it eased up. Lisa approached me and said she wanted to talk to me. She said that she was thinking of putting Robert in her tent since we were one person short on tents and asked me what I thought. I was hyperaware that she was treating me somewhat like a peer in this and my ego was inflated beyond imagination. It was all I could do to keep it down, like manhandling a runaway Macy’s Day Balloon. To be sure, I took it seriously. In my mind, we may as well have been debating whether or not to nuke Russia. I pointed out that we had five days ahead of us and that if she did that the other kids would really make fun of little Robert. I suggested pairing him with the next smallest guy. She agreed and then dropped the bomb. I would sleep in her tent, then. I couldn’t have been more stunned if the sun had dropped down to earth and handed me a Big Mac complete with fries and a coke.
We did the fire chat thing, roasting marshmallows and just laughing and talking informally and didn’t go to bed until late. In the tent we didn’t talk and Lisa fell asleep almost instantly. The aroma of her sweaty hair in the close tent on the warm, humid summer night was almost more than I could bare. I found myself quite content just to be so close to her in the same tent and feel asleep with a smile on my face.
The next day proceeded as usual. The two oldest boys were friends and they hung together. Lisa would give them her second map and discuss the days hike and they would just go off on their own. They were maybe sixteen, which from my perspective as a fourteen year old was almost as ancient as nineteen. Then Lisa would take the front and I would bring up the rear with my new charge, Robert. I would make Robert pack his stuff and then after everyone had gone ahead, we would unpack most of it and put it in my pack. As we hiked I’d take every opportunity to coach him on how not to be such an outcast and how to fit in with the other guys. With a lot of work over the course of the week Robert sort of found his place, even if it turned out to be sort of as our mascot. At least the rest of them stopped making fun of him.
On the third night we camped on top of a ridge and this was the night Nixon was suppose to give his resignation speech. I told Lisa that I had a little radio in my pack and I was hoping be able to get the Nixon broadcast. She was really impressed by this. We set our tent a good distance away from the others and later that evening managed to tune in the Nixon broadcast. She asked me why I hadn’t brought out the radio before and I explained that this was no place for a radio – I only brought it for the Nixon broadcast because it is so important. This really seemed to impress her. I don’t understand quite myself since I wasn’t that politically aware at the time and barely understood what it was all about. She explained a lot to me during the build up to his big speech. I still didn’t really understand. Lisa’s smell was getting better and better every day and by now in these close quarters it was sort of making it hard for me to think clearly. When he finally did resign, we both cried, holding each other. Lisa was really upset. Through her tears she managed to say angrily, “I don’t know why I’m crying for that goddamn sonofabitch”. This surprised me because she was a preacher’s daughter and I had yet to hear her curse. I’m pretty sure that I was crying mostly because she was crying but in my child’s mind I had some sense of how momentous an occasion this was. After talking a long time, mostly Lisa talking, she came to the conclusion that she had not cried for Nixon, she had cried for our country and this seemed to make her feel a lot better. Since at this point in our relationship I had literally not yet even considered sex, this night was as close of a bonding as I could have hoped for with Lisa.
The following evening found us camping at a three sided Adirondack shelter – rather camping around it and using it as a communal area for eating and socializing. A group of four young long haired guys joined us. They of course had a much better handle of the social situation and Lisa very much enjoyed their company, much to my dismay. They offered her some of the steak they were cooking and she politely declined. I thought that was very honorable and it made me love her even more. Likewise, she deferred the joint that came her way. I was the only one of our group hanging out with them. I had a lot of question about hippies, the war, Nixon, and they seemed to get a kick out of the combination of my naiveté and curiosity. One of the guys was a draft dodger and he had been hiking on the Appalachian Trail for a month and was going to continue on up then up the Long Trail through Vermont and hike right into Canada and what he called freedom. His friends were hiking with him here and there where they could and bringing him supplies. This was the compelling story at the table and everyone was very supportive of what he was doing.
Suddenly there was an explosion and we all literally leapt to our feet – an explosion was as incongruent in this environment as just about anything could be. About a 150 ft from the shelter where we were sitting was the camp John, and the door flew open with amazing amounts of smoke and John (one of the sixteen year old boys) came flying out at the same time. He collapsed onto his knees, coughing and puking. Lisa screamed. We all got to him at the same time and the first thing you couldn’t help but notice was the smell. The hair on his head was singed pretty badly and what little facial hair he had as well as his eyebrows were completely singed off. Foul fecal smoke still rolled out of the John. By now everyone had gathered around poor John in what had to be his greatest moment of humiliation. He had some minor burning on his face no worse than a bad sunburn and his sight seemed to be fine.
When he had calmed down and stopped coughing, he told us what happened. The question as to what happened was on everyone’s mind as the smoke steady rolled out of the John: what the hell? He explained that he didn’t like the smell in the John’s so he always lit an entire pack of matches and dropped them down into the pit to mitigate the smell. The hippy heading to Canada was a chemistry major and he laughed, everyone looking at him askance. “Methane, man,” he laughed. “Shit produces methane gas and it’s highly flammable.” John explained that he had just dropped it in and was looking down at it when it exploded. Now everyone was laughing, even John. It blew the locked door open and blew him out. Lisa hiked with him up to the nearest road and flagged down a Ranger and got him a ride out, his friend going with him. He smelled like shit.

posted in Backpacking - 3 replies

Deep Creek December 15th 2007

2007-12-13T22:45:51Z

Anyone want to go to Deep Creek on December 15th 2007? The reason I picked this day is because it's a weekend, and it's usually payday for everyone, we could all afford the gas it will cost to get there.

The year is almost over, and next to fireworks, this would be a great way to say farewell to a year filled with experiences good and bad, and to usher in a new one that promises to be better.

Bear Grylls

posted in Backpacking - 8 replies

Backpacking in Decemeber

2007-12-12T23:28:41Z

Anyone up for trip around the holidays.

endless options.

reply with intentions, please.

posted in Backpacking - 3 replies

Shoes...

2007-12-11T04:27:52Z

I am preparing for a long thru-hike...
anybody got any recommendations of good lowrise trail runners...
I've tried HI-Tec...which were tough ... but even when broken in seemed to have a design flaw that made the fit uncomfortable...
I've done Vasque... first pair was okay... second fit well but the ventilated fabric is kind of abrasive and seems like it would be very bad to hike in.
I'm not a sandal kind of guy...
so... any ideas ?

posted in Backpacking - 17 replies