Alan in Reflections
Note to the reader - what follows is an attempt to give a flavour of what living outdoors is like by describing a typical 24 hour period. It does not describe a precise 24 hour period whilst I was on holiday.
It is mid afternoon and the sun is beating down with an intensity to which I am unaccustomed, the air dry and baking hot. I could be walking at home in the United Kingdom but the altitude is much higher and I am far away from so called civilisation. If it were not for the occasional jet, passing high overhead adverting its presence by a thin white contrail, I could be back in another century.
I am in Grand Teton National Park in the American state of Wyoming and for the last six days I have been living outdoors "wild" in the back country. No showers, no campsites and no toilets. I ponder how the early pioneers coped with this environment – at least for me it is mid summer, the weather warm and I possess good equipment. I also have the benefit of a map and the knowledge of what to expect over the next ridge or pass. I am with a mountain guide and another trekker, a person who has walked extensively and is as hardened to trekking as I am new.
My day dreaming over it is time to resume our trek – onwards and upwards towards our next overnight camp. We don’t know exactly where this will be yet, we have a general area in mind, but once we see the right spot we will instinctively know and will pitch our tents and setup our little creature comforts that mean so much when living outdoors. Its one of the joys of wilderness walking, the only rules are the rules of nature, but you break them at your peril.
I head back to where a couple of minutes ago I deposited my backpack in the dust at the trail side and prepare to once again shoulder my 60lb burden. It doesn't sound a lot but it’s a dead weight, always there, hanging like a lead weight around my hips, compressing my shoulders. I live in hope that as my body adapts (bodies do adapt don’t they?) it will somehow become less of a burden.
Over the preceding days I have tried all sorts of tricks to mitigate the effects of the load. Leaning into it to relieve the dull ache of my shoulders, tightening my hip strap to take yet more load onto my legs. But all I seem to achieve is to relocate the discomfort to another part of my body, which endures fresh discomfort until it becomes unbearable and I tire once again and repeat the process tweaking the various straps. There will be no solution until we eat the food that I am carrying and then, just when the weight is becoming bearable, it will suddenly increase again as we re-supply and take on more for the coming days.
It’s easy to overbalance when shouldering the pack so I carefully check my footing then, with an explosive heave; I lift my pack and rest its base on my bent knee before hooking my right shoulder into the shoulder strap. Then bending at the waist I roll it onto my back. The remaining shoulder strap secured I ensure that the waist belt is comfortably located around my hips before standing upright and going through the strap tweaking process in an attempt to comfortably re-balance the load.
I retrieve my trekking poles carefully propped against a convenient rock so as to avoid the need to bend and retrieve them from the ground. Then with a final check to ensure we have forgotten nothing we are back walking on the trail.
My trekking poles, a recent purchase for this holiday, have been an unqualified success. In fact I have no idea as to how I might have coped without them. Whilst carrying my backpack I weigh over 17 stone and frequently take this entire weight through one leg as I climb and descend the mountainous and uneven terrain
I have always considered myself a strong and fit walker. But my body, no longer in the first flush of youth, has over the last few days started to protest and I seem to have acquired a number of niggles, aches and pains especially my right knee. The poles provide stability and reduce the risk of a sudden stumble or fall. They also allow me to use my arms to assist me in climbing. Their only apparent negative aspect is walking through thick vegetation which seems to reach out and snare them, hindering my progress.
We are to cross the thundering stream that we have been following uphill through the canyon for the last six miles. Whilst it is July this is high country and there is still some residual winter snow clinging to the higher peaks around us glinting somewhat perversely in the hot 80f summer afternoon sun. I can’t imagine what the river must be like in full flow when the early snow melt commences.
Previously we have been lucky – there have been carefully felled logs bridging the rivers or conveniently fallen trees that we have been able to utilise as rough bridges. However today our luck is out as the token bridge is rotten and in a state of disrepair with the water rushing over it, leaving it wet and treacherous. We search around looking for an alternative crossing point but there is none. There is no other option we will need to ford.
I remove my boots taking care to store my socks carefully in a water tight sack and don my open toed sandals. I assume the worst so double check that my camera (so many stored memories already) and down sleeping bag are likewise safe from the menace of water. It can be cold at altitude and a wet sleeping bag would be a disaster. We are at the mercies of the weather.
I release the hip and chest belts on my pack, better to be safe as if I fall and am swept away I can as a last resort ditch my backpack Gingerly with my poles carefully probing the river bottom I place my foot into the raging torrent. There is the immediate shock of the contrast between the hot air and the cold chill of the water which is already up to my knee.
The river bottom is uneven and I scrabble around looking for a firm footing relying heavily on my poles. Satisfied as best I can I introduce my other foot and repeat the process. With water swirling around my knees I advance cautiously across the river, braced against the downward flow. Gradually the depth eases and I reach the other side safely.
Once again I divest myself of my backpack. My chilled legs are warmed by the summer sun and my feet soon dry enabling me to put my boots back on. My wet sandals are strapped to the outside of my backpack to dry over the coming hours.
We are heading away from the river and unsure of future water sources we check that we have sufficient for our anticipated needs. It’s always a conundrum as a litre of water weighs 5lb so there is always balance to be struck between capacity and weight. I frequently carry 4 litres adding 20lb to my load. We are currently at 9,000ft and the combination of heat, exertion and high altitude means that my water consumption is prodigious and I often consume up to a gallon of water a day. Satisfied with our stocks we move on.
We have moved away from the river and are following the trail up a ridge through trees. It has become claustrophobic and my senses heightened in what is a foreign environment listen for any unusual sounds. There are wild moose and an even bear out here and whilst ever careful to pre-warn of our approach, by making noise, there is always the anticipation of an unexpected meeting with a wild animal. Even worse what would happen if I came between a mother and her child?
The ridge path becomes steeper and the trail constricts. Branches and vegetation are clawing at my backpack and as I push through I have to take care that branches do not swing back and strike my following companions. Occasionally the trail is blocked by a dense fallen tree and it is necessary to follow alternative paths bushwhacked through by enterprising souls who have gone before us. It can be difficult as given the height of my backpack overhanging branches are easily snared.
Finally the gradient eases and the trees thin and we emerge out into the bright summer sunshine in a semi flat basin area surrounded by 12,000ft peaks. It is late afternoon but the sun at this altitude is still fierce and I am careful to apply more sunscreen, this time carefully remembering the top of my ears that are already crisp to remind me of my omissions of earlier days when I under-estimated the power of the sun.
(to be continued)