Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, September 25, 1995 TAG: 9509250079
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BRIAN KELLEY/STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
On the one hand, are your nature lovers, who revel in spending hours studying a place, watching the scenery, absorbing the quiet. They're the types who marvel at the metaphysical details of Annie Dillard's locally produced '70s classic, ``Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.''
But on the other, you have hikers who push themselves simply for the physical challenge and the chance to escape the world of cars and computers, if only for a while.
I'm all for quiet contemplation, but after years of trekking, I've fallen more into the second category. In August, I met one my toughest tests so far: California's 219-mile John Muir Trail.
It turned into a lesson in logistics, luck and self-reliance. What started as a six-person expedition quickly ran into problems because of swollen ankles for some and trouble acclimatizing to the high altitude for others. I ended up finishing the trail alone for nearly two weeks, going solo in the Sierras.
Different paths
If the Appalachian Trail is the pre-eminent hiking trail of the East, then its sister, the Pacific Crest Trail, highlights the West in its run from Mexico to Canada. The Muir trail, finished in 1932, predates the PCT by decades. For most of its length, the PCT follows the Muir trail through the High Sierra, from Yosemite Valley in the north to Mount Whitney, at 14,495 feet the highest peak in the lower 48 states, in the south. The Muir trail provides a sampler of Western hiking: crystal-clear blue skies and a scorching sun with little tree cover; snow-covered passes, high-altitude lakes; arid stretches of sand, dust and sage; rushing creeks filled with trout; and lush evergreen forests with pinecones nearly the size of pineapples.
It also provides a stark contrast to our local hero, the Appalachian Trail, which I hiked end to end four years ago. Where the AT is extremely user-friendly, the Muir trail puts you out there, more reliant on planning, more exposed to the elements and far more isolated. Where the AT is well-marked, with rustic shelters at regular intervals and many road crossings for easy access to towns and resupply, the Muir path offers contrary challenges: no shelters, erratic markings that often force reliance on basic map and compass skills and nearly 200 miles of roadless wilderness with only a handful of resupply options
Snow and mosquitoes
The AT and Muir trail experiences share some similarities. Both focus the hiker on the basics of food, water and shelter, and orient the day to a schedule that starts at dawn and ends at dusk. Both trails are heavily used in sections, and demand low-impact camping techniques. Both trails require permits: the AT only for travel through the Shenandoah and Great Smoky Mountains national parks; the Muir trail for its entire length. Both trails have sections where crafty black bears will seek to steal your food after dark (we defeated two attempts in Yosemite with shouting and stone throwing). The Sierras, though, offered additional challenges this summer because of the past winter's record snowfall: high creek and river crossings, several feet of snow at high elevation and, most annoyingly, voracious mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes tested our resolve in the first few days of the trek. We'd brought natural and chemical repellents, but by the second day we'd discovered the pests had no fear of citronella oil. Everyone quickly became a DEET convert. Though we tried to use the stuff sparingly, in practice the swarms of mosquitoes that descended around sunset at lower elevations made it difficult. Traveling solo, I ended up planning my days so I'd reach a high-altitude camp - at least 10,000 feet or higher - in the evening, where the mosquitoes would be more tolerable.
The snow either was a chore or a thrill. If you reached the snowfields too late in the day, it meant hours of slow, tiring trudging through a soft, wet, bright, sun-dimpled surface. After going through two of the Muir trail's eight passes that way, I tried to reach the rest of the crossings early in the morning, when the snow still was slightly icy and therefore easier to negotiate. I carried a mountaineering tool called an ``ice ax'' for stability, though I never had a slip dangerous enough to require a self-arrest or self-belay, two techniques used to stop icy slides. Crampons, spiked boot attachments also used in mountaineering, were unnecessary. In most seasons, even an ice ax only needed is in the early summer.
The lure of the wild
Even with all its physical challenges, the John Muir Trail offers rewarding views over a starkly beautiful landscape that's famous worldwide. I met hikers from Germany, Great Britain and Japan, and men and women from across the United States, ranging from Boy Scouts and college students to a trio of older hikers from San Diego. And between the overcrowded Yosemite and Mount Whitney areas, the trail passed through miles and miles of solitude, places to watch a golden eagle ride a thermal, or see the several types of trout strike in a clear mountain stream. It is a place of mild summertime temperatures and weather, with nighttime lows in the mid-30s and highs in the 80s. It offers many opportunities for a teeth-chatteringly cold swim to wash away the day's sweat.
I climbed Whitney and descended to the nearby Whitney Portal after 19 days on the trail. That pace - close to 12 miles a day - is about average, though the contemplative types say you need at least a month to truly soak up the scenery. Four of my five partners, after taking time off to recuperate, then slowing their pace, finished the trail about 10 days after me.
And the solitude? Aside from the burden of carrying gear and food I'd been sharing early in the trip, it didn't bother me. Before leaving Virginia, I'd read up on John Muir, the 19th and early 20th century naturalist and conservationist who founded the Sierra Club and whose work led to the creation of Yosemite park. In "My First Summer in the Sierras," his account of his 1869 experience as a shepherd, Muir wrote of thinking about his distant family and friends.
"They seem as near as if within voice-reach or touch. The deeper the solitude the less the sense of loneliness, and the nearer our friends. Now bread and tea, fir bed and good-night ... a look at the sky lilies, and death sleep until the dawn of another Sierra to-morrow."
Muir's entry seems to touch on one of the basic draws of contemporary long-distance trekking and other wilderness sports. The outdoors, whether enjoyed for challenge or contemplation, gives one the chance to put the frenetic pace of modern life in perspective, and to recognize the people and ideals that are the most important.
by CNB