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Peninsula Daily News Port Angeles, Washington Copyright 2000 Eric Rush www.ericrush.com |
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My brother Jon and our friend Jay and I began doing this a few years ago. All of us are on the high side of 50. Each year, we pick a different part of the country to hike in. The first year, Jon and I camped in the Olympic Mountains. Last year, the three of us hiked the Cloud Peak Wilderness in Wyoming. We chose the Rawah Wilderness in northern Colorado this year. Last year, the first few days humping 55-pound packs above 10,000 feet almost killed us. By the time we came out of the hills a few days later, we were finally in pretty good shape and ready to go in. Each of us had vowed to be ready this year. Jay and Jon both ski. Jay hiked extensively earlier in the summer. I leave skiing to younger fools, but I’d planned to take several backpacking trips into the Olympics, and I vowed to ride my bike regularly. Of course I did neither. I’ve added a pair of hiking sticks since last year’s trek, though. With sticks, you can take longer steps with better balance, and they take your weight if you turn an ankle or a foot slips. We’d planned four nights in the mountains from our base at 9,500 feet to just over 11,000. Packs were heavier this year. I’m comfortable with 40 pounds, but not with 60. The walking sticks helped, but shoulder straps pulling back on my collar bones hurt from the start. On the second day, I remembered the makeshift tump line I’d made from a towel the year before and used only a little. I’d tried to buy a proper one after last year’s hike, but apparently nobody makes them anymore. A tump line is a pack strap that goes over the top of your head. It carries part of the load while keeping the weight of the pack from pulling backward on your shoulders. The reason you can’t buy one is no doubt because of liability: Use it improperly and you could snap your neck. I guessed I was taking ten or 20 pounds off my shoulders and hips with the folded towel on my head. When my neck got stiff or the trail was too uneven for smooth walking, I’d slip it off. By the end of the hike, I was using it nearly all the time, and I discovered I was carrying nearly all the weight of my pack on my head. With sticks and tump line, I moved fast and easily. It felt almost as if I weren’t carrying a pack at all. Except uphill, of course. One thing I vowed last year was to make a backpacking checklist. Last year, I forgot fork and spoon. This year was worse. I forgot propane for my stove, all eating utensils, lunch food, dental floss, and fishing regulations. The others forgot a couple of things, too, but the three of us tend to take too much of what we don’t forget, so we were covered. Although the West is powder dry, Colorado wildflowers at 11,000 feet in August are profuse. Jay was delighted to find five he’d never seen. We came upon several ptarmigan in summer colors. We stepped right up to them to take their pictures and they didn’t even blink. We spent two days on a lake that is seldom visited, much less fished. We could have eaten brook trout three times a day, but we didn’t know the limit and there was no one there to ask, so we settled on trout for breakfasts. Once again, by the time we finished our hike, we were adjusted to the altitude, our muscles worked well, and we were ready to start. We haven’t decided where to go next year, but I, for one, will be ready. I’ll hike with a full pack and bike regularly. And I’ll write my checklist first thing tomorrow.
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