A narrow trail on a steep, vegetated mountainside. Glacier Peak Wilderness, North Cascades.
“Postholing” through deep snow is slow, hard work. This hiker should be using the trekking pole strapped to her pack for balance and support.
The trail may be buried in snow, but trail signs can still point the way.
Snow
Much of what I just said about traversing rock slopes applies to crossing snow. However, you may come upon small but steep and icy snow-fields in summer when you aren’t carrying an ice ax or crampons. Having a staff or trekking poles makes it easier to balance across snow on small holds kicked with the edge of your boots, though you shouldn’t attempt this if there is dangerous ground below the snow slope, since you can’t stop a slide with a staff. Without a support, take great care and, if possible, look for a way around a snow slope, even if it involves descending or climbing.
Bushwhacking
“Bushwhacking” is the apt word for thrashing through thick brush and scrambling over fallen trees while thorny bushes tear at your clothes and pack. It’s the hardest form of “walking” I know, and it’s to be avoided whenever possible—though sometimes you have no choice.
Bushwhacking takes a long time and a lot of energy, with very little distance to show for it; half a mile per hour can be good progress. Climbing high above dense vegetation and wading up rivers are both preferable to prolonged bushwhacking. But if you like to strike out across country, bushwhacking eventually will be essential.
Bushwhacking can be necessary even during ski tours. On one occasion in the Algäu Alps, four of us descended from a high pass into a valley. The snow wasn’t deep enough to fully cover the dense willow scrub that spread over the lower slopes and rose a yard or two high. Luckily the scrub didn’t spread very far, but skiing through it was a desperate struggle, since the springy branches constantly knocked us over and caught at our poles and bindings.
Unmaintained trails can quickly become overgrown, too. I made the mistake of wearing shorts while descending one in the Grand Canyon; the upper part of the trail ran through dense thickets of thorny bushes and small trees, and my legs were soon bloody. It was quite a relief to reach the desert farther down, where at least the cacti and yuccas were widely spaced.
MINIMIZING IMPACT
A trail is a scar on the landscape, albeit a minor one. But where there is a trail, walk on it. Cross-country travel is for areas where there are no trails. Don’t parallel a trail in order to experience off-trail walking. Most damage is caused when walkers walk along the edges or just off a trail, widening it and destroying the vegetation alongside. Always stick to the trail, even if it means walking in mud.
A slightly overgrown forest trail. Glacier Peak Wilderness.
An old trail sign points the way through a trailless meadow. Here it’s best to try to follow the line of the original trail.
On slopes, you should always use the switchbacks. Too many hillsides have been badly damaged by people shortcutting switchbacks, creating new, steeper routes that quickly become water channels. In meadows and alpine terrain, where it’s easy to walk anywhere, multiple trails often appear where people have walked several abreast. In such terrain, you should follow the main trail, if you can figure out which it is, and walk single file. When snow blocks part of a trail, try to follow the line where the trail would be; don’t create a new trail by walking around the edge of a snow patch unless you need to do so for safety.
A trail in need of restoration and relocation. Note the multiple channels, eroded ground, and damage to the meadow.
A steep switchbacking trail, High Sierra.
When you walk cross-country, your aim must be to leave no sign of your passing—that means no marking with blazes, cairns, or subtle signs like broken twigs unless they’re removed later. It also means avoiding fragile surfaces where possible, walking around damp meadows, and staying off soft vegetation. Rock, snow, and nonvegetated surfaces suffer the least damage; gravel banks of rivers and streams are regularly washed clean by floods and snowmelt, so walking on them causes no harm.
It would take a skilled tracker to follow a good solo walker’s cross-country route. Groups have a more difficult time leaving no sign of their passage. The answer is to keep groups small and to spread out, taking care not to step in each other’s boot prints. As few as four sets of boots can leave the beginnings of a trail that others may follow in fragile meadows and tundra. Where these new trails have started to appear, walk well away from them so you don’t help in their creation. The aim should be to use obvious trails but not make new ones or expand signs of faint ones.
In many areas, land-management agencies maintain and repair trails, often using controversial methods. However, wide, eroded scars made by thousands of boots (and sometimes hooves) hardly create a feeling of wilderness either. Unfortunately, some popular trails may be saved only by employing drastic regulations. Walkers can help by following trail-management instructions, staying off closed sections, and accepting artificial surfaces as necessary in places.
A boardwalk built to allow ground damaged by too many hooves and boots to recover.
Boardwalks to protect soft, wet ground on a trail in the White Mountains, New Hampshire.
Hiking along the smooth slabs beside a creek when going cross-country in rocky mountain terrain.
Generally, when walking cross-country you should always consider your impact on the terrain and pick the route that will cause least damage.
WILDERNESS HAZARDS
Weather
Most outdoor hazards are caused by the weather. Wind, rain, snow, thunderstorms, freezing temperatures, thaws, and heat waves all introduce difficulties or dangers. Coping with weather is the reason backpackers need tents, sleeping bags, and other equipment.
With a little knowledge you can often predict the weather at least a few hours ahead, though you can’t compete with expert meteorologists using satellite images and computers. For any given trip, knowing in general what weather to expect should be part of your trip planning. Area guides, local information offices, and ranger stations are the places to get details of regional weather patterns. For a specific day, check Internet, radio, television, and newspaper forecasts if you can; park and forest service ranger stations often post daily weather forecasts. If you don’t see one, inquire. If you monitor forecasts for an area you visit regularly, you’ll soon be able to develop an annual weather overview. If you’re going to an unfamiliar area, checking weather patterns for some time in advance can give you an idea of what to expect. Before I hiked the Arizona Trail I followed Web weather reports for several months so I knew that it had been dry even by Arizona standards. I also knew that the first real storm for months was due about the time I reached Arizona, so I wasn’t too surprised (though delighted) to land in Phoenix in pouring rain.
Even the most detailed recent forecast can be wrong. Regional patterns can mean rain in one valley and sun in another just over the hill. Mountains are particularly notorious for creating their own weather. Weather has less impact on travel over low-level and below-timberline routes—if it rains, you don rain gear; if it’s windy, you keep an eye out for falling trees.
High up, however, a strong wind can make walking impossible, and rain may turn to snow. On any mountain walk you should be prepared to descend early or take a lower route if the weather worsens. Struggling on into the teeth of a blizzard when you don’t have to is foolish and risky. It even may be necessary to sit out bad weather for a day or more. I’ve done so on a few occasions and have been surprised at how fast the time passes.
Weather Forecasting
Observation is the key to short-term weather forecasting. Watch out for slight changes. Which way are the clouds moving? What type of clouds are they? Thickening clouds can mean rain, thinning ones sun. Fast-approaching clouds may mean a storm soon. What direction is the wind blowing? Has it shifted, and if so which way? How strong is it? Any big change in the direction or strength of the w
ind suggests a change in the weather. Knowing the air pressure can greatly increase the accuracy of your forecasts. If the pressure is rising, dry weather is likely; if it’s falling, wet weather is probably on the way. The faster the rate of change, the quicker the weather will change. All altimeters are barometers and so can be used for forecasting. They have to be kept at the same altitude, however, so camp is the best place to do this. I set the altitude when I reach camp, then note the barometer reading on my Suunto Altimax. Next morning I check the barometer again and look at the overnight pattern. It’s heartening to see that the pressure is rising after several days of bad weather. Unfortunately, the opposite also is true.
I also have an instrument called the Brunton (Silva outside of North America) Atmospheric Data Center (ADC) Pro. This measures altitude, barometric pressure, temperature, relative humidity, and wind speed, and keeps twenty-four hours of records. The wind speed is measured by a tiny wind vane that you hold into the wind to record the speed. It gives the current, average, and highest speeds. With it you can keep a record of the wind speed and also discover just what various wind speeds mean when hiking and when camping. I now know that wind speeds above 30 mph are uncomfortable to walk in, so if the forecast is for speeds above that I plan on sticking to sheltered ground. I also know that a gusty 20 mph wind can rattle most tents. The humidity and temperature readings are useful, too. (I now know there can be a huge difference in humidity between the floor and peak of a tent, showing that vents should be high up.) By recording data from the ADC I can build up a picture of the weather in areas I visit often and know what to expect at different times of year. Of course, notes can be used for the same purpose, but knowing that the average nighttime temperature was 25°F (−4°C) with a low of 20°F (−7°C) and the average wind speed was 35 mph with gusts to 45 tells me much more than notes that say “frosty” for each morning and “windy” or even “very windy” for each day. The ADC only weighs 2 ounces and runs off a 3-volt lithium battery. It’s easily carried in a shirt pocket.
An excellent book on weather in the backcountry is Weathering the Wilderness, by William E. Reifsnyder. It describes the weather you can expect in the Sierra, Cascades, Rockies, Appalachians, Olympics, and the Great Lakes Basin at different times of year and includes tables covering temperature, rainfall, and hours of sunshine. It also explains weather patterns and has photographs of cloud types.
Altitude
As you go higher, atmospheric pressure lessens, making it harder for your body to extract oxygen from the air. This may result in acute mountain sickness (AMS), typified by headaches, fatigue, loss of appetite, dizziness, and a generally awful feeling. AMS rarely occurs at altitudes below 8,000 feet, so many backpackers never need worry about it. But if you do ascend high enough and experience AMS, the only immediate remedy is to descend. If you don’t, the effects usually pass in a few days.
The possible effects of altitude.
The Brunton (Silva) ADC Pro weather-recording instrument.
To minimize the chances of AMS, acclimatize slowly by gaining altitude gradually. If you’re starting out from a high point, you can aid acclimatization by spending a night there before setting off. It’s also important to drink plenty of fluids—dehydration is reckoned to worsen altitude sickness. Most backpackers won’t get higher than the 14,000 feet of the Sierra or the Rockies; spending three or four days hiking at 6,000 to 8,000 feet should minimize altitude effects, but it’s not always easy to do this. The altitude where you sleep is important too; if you sleep below 8,000 feet you can ascend to 14,000 feet without much likelihood of altitude sickness.
The only time I’ve suffered from mountain sickness was when I took a cable car up to 10,600 feet on the Aiguille du Midi in the French Alps. The moment I stepped out of the cable car I felt dizzy and a little sick and had a bad headache. But we’d gone up in order to ski down, so I was soon feeling fine again.
Much more serious than AMS are high-altitude cerebral edema and high-altitude pulmonary edema (fluid buildup in the brain or lungs), which can be fatal. Cerebral edema rarely occurs below 12,000 feet; pulmonary rarely below 10,000 feet. Lack of coordination and chest noises are among the symptoms, but you may not be able to differentiate between AMS and edema. Your only course is to descend—quickly.
Medicine for Mountaineering, edited by James Wilkerson, has a detailed discussion of high-altitude illness that is worth studying by those planning treks in high mountains.
Avalanches
Avalanches are a threat to every snow traveler who ventures into mountainous terrain, more so for the skier than for the walker. In spring, great blocks of snow and gouged terrain stripped of trees mark avalanche paths and show the power of these snow slides. Avalanches can be predicted to some extent, and many mountain areas, especially those with ski resorts, post avalanche warnings. Heed them. Anyone heading into snow-covered mountains should study one of the many books on the subject. Avalanche Safety for Skiers and Climbers, by Tony Daffern, is one of the best for home study, while The ABCs of Avalanche Safety, by Sue Ferguson and E. R. LaChappelle, is light enough at 2 ounces to carry in the pack.
Lightning
Lightning is both spectacular and frightening. Thunderstorms can come in so fast that you can’t reach shelter before they break (although I’ve learned that I can run very fast with a heavy pack when I’m scared enough). If you see thunderclouds building up or a distant storm approaching, head for safety immediately—don’t wait until the thunder starts. In thunderstorms, avoid summits, ridge crests, tall trees, small stands of trees, shallow caves, lakeshores, and open meadows. Places to run to include low points in deep forests, near but not next to the bases of high cliffs, depressions in flat areas, and mountain huts (these are grounded with metal lightning cables). Remember that, statistically, being hit by lightning is very unlikely, though this may fail to comfort you when you’re out in the open and the flashes seem to be bouncing all around.
Avalanche debris, High Sierra.
In a lightning storm, beware of ground currents. Don’t lie or sit on the ground. Instead, squat on an insulating mat, with your hands and arms off the ground. Put metal gear, such as framed packs and hiking poles, some distance away so they don’t burn you if there’s a nearby strike.
During a storm, there’s danger from ground currents radiating from a lightning strike; the closer to the strike you are, the greater the current. Wet surfaces can provide pathways for the current, which may also jump across short gaps rather than go through the ground. If part of your body bridges such a gap, some of the current will probably pass through it. Your heart, and therefore your torso, is the part of your body you most need to protect from electric shocks, so it’s advisable to crouch with just your feet on your foam pad so that any ground current passes through your limbs only. I’d also keep away from damp patches of ground and wet gullies and rock cracks. Groups should spread out.
Metal can burn you after a nearby strike—if you’re caught in a storm, move away from pack frames and tent poles. The most frightening storm I’ve encountered woke me in the middle of the night at a high and exposed camp in the Scottish Highlands; all I could do was huddle on my foam pad and wait for it to pass, while lightning flashed all around me.
Anyone who is hit by lightning and knocked unconscious should be given immediate mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if breathing or the heart have stopped.
Hypothermia
Hypothermia occurs when the body loses heat faster than it produces it. It can be a killer. The causes are wet and cold, abetted by hunger, fatigue, alcohol, and low morale. The initial symptoms are shivering, lethargy, and irritability, which develop into lack of coordination, collapse, coma, and death, sometimes very quickly.
Because wind whips away heat, especially from wet clothing, hypothermia can occur in temperatures well above freezing. Indeed, it is often in summer that unwary dayhikers get caught, venturing high into the mountains on a day that starts sunny but becomes cold and rainy. Too ma
ny people die or have to be rescued because they weren’t equipped to deal with stormy weather.
Cloud hanging on one side of a ridge in the White Mountains, New Hampshire.
A temperature inversion with the valleys full of cloud (cold air) and the summits bathed in sunshine (warm air).
If you start to notice any of the symptoms of hypothermia in yourself or any of your party, take immediate action. The best remedy is to stop, set up camp, get into dry clothes and a sleeping bag, start up the stove, and have plenty of hot drinks and hot food. Pushing on is foolish unless you’ve first donned extra clothes and had something to eat. After you’re clothed and fed, exercise will help warm you up, since it creates heat. Even then you should stop and camp as soon as possible.
The best solution to hypothermia is to prevent it. If you’re properly equipped, stay warm and dry, and keep well fed and rested, you should be in no danger.
Frostbite
When body tissue freezes, that’s frostbite. It can be avoided by covering up and by keeping warm. Minor frostbite is most likely to occur on the extremities—the nose, ears, fingertips, and toes. If any of these areas feels numb and looks colorless, it may be frostbitten. Rewarming can be done with extra clothing, by putting a warm hand over the affected area, or in the case of fingers or toes, holding them against someone’s armpit, groin, or stomach. I’ve come across mild frostbite only once, to a companion’s nose on a windy mountaintop in February with a temperature about 0°F (−18°C); she pulled a woolen balaclava over her face, and within half an hour the color had returned. Deep frostbite is a serious condition and can be properly treated only in a secure shelter with a reliable source of heat. Frostbitten areas should not be rubbed; this can damage the frozen tissue.
Chris Townsend Page 56