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10 Secrets To Happier Hiking
Natural Beauty of Anza-Borrego
Sometimes the best methods for better backpacking are so obvious it takes a bug bite or blister to see them
By Backpacker
Trail epiphany (noun): A sudden realization in the backcountry that leads to more enjoyable hiking. Example: "Aha! My dinner would be hot now if I'd pressurized the stove."
Okay, not all backpacking wisdom is quite so obvious. Which is why we gathered 10 trail moments, big and small, that changed the way we hike. Give these techniques a try, and you'll notice an immediate improvement in the way wild places feel.
1. Go With The Local Flow
The Moment: We were slowly loading our packs at the bottom of Arizona's Grand Canyon, putting off the grueling, sun-blasted ascent to the South Rim, when I noticed that the Redwall-the first 1,000 feet we'd have to tackle-was in shadow. Remembering past ordeals, I blurted, "We have to move...Now!" And we did-quickly yet comfortably. Once above the Redwall, we rested in a shady cave until the remainder of our climb fell into shadow. During the pleasant walk out, I vowed to plan future hikes for the coolest times of the day (or warmest in winter), even if it meant getting up early or hiking late. I now cover just as much ground, but a lot more comfortably.
The Lesson: Time your hiking to local conditions. In the desert, avoid midday heat. In the mountains, summit peaks in the morning so you don't tangle with afternoon thunderstorms. When bugs swarm, schedule lunch breaks for breezy passes.
--Annette McGivney
2. Less Agony In De Feet
The Moment: Hustling to get ready for a 6-day hike in the Smokies, I forgot to pack spare socks, my secret weapon against the moist-wool-on-heel friction that causes blisters. Sans spares, my only recourse was to fling off my boots at every rest break. My socks didn't dry completely, but my bootless breathers left my feet feeling cooler, drier, and less bruised than they would have if I'd just kept my boots on-trust me, I've had enough blisters to know.
The Lesson: Let your dogs breathe every hour, and they'll bark less at the end of the day.
--Jonathan Dorn
3. Summon Your Inner Animal
The Moment: The mosquitoes were killing me--in my eyes, in my mouth, in my soup--as I sat in a brushy camp in Alaska's Brooks Range. My only solace was watching clusters of caribou lounging lazily on the high ridges and along the river. THE CARIBOU! They were up high and on the gravel bars where the wind kept the bugs at bay. When I moved my camp from the low thicket to a gravel bar the caribou hadn't yet commandeered, I left the bugs behind.
The Lesson: Study the resident wildlife, and you may learn a few local secrets: the quickest route to water, the easiest path through the brush, the juiciest blueberry patch, and more.
--Jeff Rennicke
4. Hip Check
The Moment: We'd already scrambled out of a steep valley, and now we faced another uphill mile to the top of West Virginia's Shenandoah Mountain. Though we carried equal loads, my hiking partner motored ahead so fast I soon lost sight of her. I struggled with each step, trying to shift my 40-pound pack to a spot that would relieve my aching shoulders and back. In desperation, I yanked and loosened straps, hoping for a miracle adjustment. Nothing. Then I hoisted the pack higher on my body than I'd previously worn it, cinched the belt, and it settled comfortably onto my hips. The load suddenly felt 10 pounds lighter.
The Lesson: Find your hips, and you'll find relief. To figure out where your pack's weight should rest, pick up a wash basket or a baby with one arm. The "ledge" where you balance the weight is where you should align the center of your hipbelt.
--Susan Newquist
5. A Camera In The Hand Is Worth Two In The Bag
The Moment: One evening in Alaska's Arrigetch Range, my partner and I pitched our tent facing a spectacular horned mountain we hoped would trap the morning's alpenglow. Then, to our complete surprise, the last rays of sun caught a plume of cloud and the peak transformed into a smoking castle. While my partner fumbled to pull his camera out of his pack, I grabbed the one I'd carefully placed by the door, lifted it to my eye, and snapped the shutter. Seconds later, when the light had vanished and the mountain returned to a brooding silhouette, my hiking partner finally had his camera in hand--but had to ask for a copy of my picture.
The Lesson: Be prepared for fleeting moments of wilderness beauty. Keep your camera close at hand and prepped to shoot.
--John Harlin
6. Bushwhacking Bliss
The Moment: I was about 12 years old, still growing into my first pack and happy to follow trails wherever they led. Then a family friend, Rick, said he'd take us to a "secret" lake with glorious views and huge trout. The only catch? No trail, for starters. Plus Rick didn't exactly know the way. We ambled along a beautiful stream, clawed through brush, backtracked, scrambled up talus slopes, detoured around spectacular pour-offs, backtracked again, admired a wildflower-filled gully. And that was all before lunch. We eventually located the lake, but the day's real find was the adventure of blazing our own way.
The Lesson: Learn to read the landscape, not just trail signs, and you'll never lack for a private path to crowd-free wilderness adventure.
--Dennis Lewon
7. Pillow Talk
The Moment: With my head resting on a stuff sack full of stinky clothes and my body stretched out on a thin sleeping pad, I used to rejoice if I slept 2 hours straight in the backcountry. Then a friend gave me a small-but-puffy pack pillow. I wasn't crazy about the extra weight, but I decided to give decadence a try. That night in New York's Catskills, despite a snoring tentmate, I slept like Rip van Winkle. I got even more shut-eye when I upgraded to an inflatable sleeping pad.
The Lesson: A few extra ounces in your sleep system can pay off in much-needed rest and more pep in your step. If you want to lighten your load, sacrifice that 800-page novel you used to read when you couldn't sleep.
--Gina Demillo
8. Eat, Drink, And Hike Merry
The Moment: Nearing the top of a 2,000-foot climb out of North Carolina's Linville Gorge, I could feel my body bonking. I'd felt fit and energized at the start, so I hadn't stopped to eat or drink. As I washed down handfuls of gorp with Gatorade, I flashed back to a half marathon I'd recently run, and it all became clear. Water stations every mile! Of course. If I'd paused every 500 feet for refreshments, I wouldn't be half-dead and horizontal.
The Lesson: Prime your pump with regular snacks and sips of water. On big hills, create your own aid stations by stopping to rest and refuel every 30 minutes.
--Gina DeMillo
9. Pay Attention, Or Pay The Price
The Moment: Forty days earlier, the ski plane had dropped me onto the flooded Arctic permafrost. Ever since, I'd been alone, paddling and exploring the vast barrens of Alaska's Colville River. Sometimes I got scared thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I remembered a vastly simpler trip back home where I so lost myself in the scenery that I literally got lost. To steady my nerves in Alaska-and prevent accidents-I buried myself in daily chores: patching dry bags, overhauling the stove, and checking supplies. The work kept me safe and sane amid some of the most remote wilderness in North America. Sometimes I wondered why everything was going so well. And then it hit me: I was paying attention
The Lesson: It's carelessness, not wilderness, that gets you in trouble. If you prepare well, move carefully, and pay attention, you can avoid the biggest hazard out there: yourself.
--Steve Howe
10. The Good Life
The Moment: My life-including my gear-was in boxes, and the mover was nowhere to be seen. But I needed to hike. So I borrowed a friend's Boy Scout sleeping bag and the external frame pack he'd inherited from his grandpa. Then I left the trailhead in the dark, hoping no one would see my old-fashioned gear. You know what? It didn't matter. On that trip, the bag kept me as warm as my expensive down mummy. And though I've worn more comfortable packs, grandpa's hauled just fine.
The Lesson: Good gear can make hiking safer and more comfortable, but the pleasure of a wilderness journey is always there, no matter what your gear's quality.
--Jeff Rennicke
Published in BACKPACKER magazine, June 2002. Copyright © Rodale, Inc. 2002
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