Backpacker – August 2019

(Marcin) #1
JULY/AUGUST 2019
114 BACKPACKER.COM

PHOTOS BY LOUISA ALBANESE

You post location details on
Instagram. Giving exact directions
to a stunning spot advances the
doomsday clock.

You leave hot embers glowing when
you go to sleep. If you can’t spare
water to do this right, don’t make a
fi re. No excuses on this one.

You stay inside when the weather
sucks. Gear up and get out there.

You gear up for your fears.
If you pack less, you’ll
experience more.

You’re a selfi sh partner.
We get it. Backpacking can be exhausting—more so if you’re busy resenting your trip buddy
because the group gear division is unequal or ineffi cient.

YOUR PACK THE EQUALIZER YOUR PARTNER’S PACK

YOU’RE
DOING IT
WRONG!

DEB ATA BLE

SOLO VS. GROUP
Either way, you could be doing it wrong. Pick your priorities depending
on your social style and your distaste for the downsides.

PARTY
OF ONE

LET’S HAVE
A PARTY.

Mark Jenkins, a frequent solo
adventurer, cites John Muir and
Henry David Thoreau, who never
waited up for anybody, used their
alone time to reflect, and then
turned it into tomes that still reso-
nate today. Not a thinker? More
practically, you’ll be open to meet-
ing more people once you get sick
of yourself; and you’ll never have
an argument over pace, what time
to wake up, who’s carrying more
group gear, or when/where to camp.
Bonus: You’ll get all the leftovers.

Travelling with a group or a trail
family lets you balance skills, says
serial thru-hiker Liz “Snorkel”
Thomas. If you’re good with navi-
gation, recruit a cook and a pack
mule to make a solid team. Having
friends to share the experience
with makes memories stronger, and
dividing group gear makes everyone
feel stronger. And if and when your
group starts to grate on you, look to
the lessons of history for reasons to
stay together: Aron Ralston liked to
go it alone, too.

SOCIAL


QUICK
FIX


MY BAD

I Led a Death March.
FEW SPOTS IN Colorado come into their own around
Memorial Day quite like Great Sand Dunes National
Park and Preserve (see page 96). It’s a place that’s
easy to get excited about, which meant it was easy to
rally a big group to join me for a birthday hike.
As the most experienced person—and the birth-
day boy—I became the leader, planning the route,
helping people with their gear, selling the trip as a fun
two-nighter. I maybe—maybe—forgot to mention
that hiking in deep sand is, well, hard.
About 3 miles into the second day, we crested a
small berm onto the dunefield proper, and the wind
was blowing hard enough to depilate our legs down
to baby skin. I was alone in my awe—and alone in
packing the bandana that I put on everyone’s list.
Soon moist sand was gathering around mouths. For
whatever reason, wind dredges up emotions more
than any other type of weather. Might be the way it
robs you of a moment’s peace, all the while isolating
you when it’s blowing too hard to yell over.
So perhaps it was no surprise that the group dis-
integrated into couples and spread out. Over the last
mile to camp, I watched as one person would stagger
a few feet and kneel. At least it was easy to blame the
tears on blowing sand.
At some point, I sped to camp so I could backtrack
and offer to porter. No one would even look at me.
Who could blame them? My list of bad moves was
long: I trusted novices to understand what they were
getting into, thought stoke trumped truth, and, when
it came down to it, abandoned the weak.
You never heard a more morose rendition of
“Happy Birthday” in a more beautiful place.


  • Casey Lyons



  1. You pass like a rolling stone. If you’re
    going downhill with gravity assist, yield
    to the exhausted strivers schlepping up.

  2. You don’t say “hi.” We love wilderness
    solitude, too, but other hikers are great
    for trail intel. Plus, don’t be rude.


3.You don’t yield the right of way. Bikers
yield to hikers; hikers yield to horses;
horses are still king.

You’re
a jerk.
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