Hiking in drought conditions

The New York times had this article slapped on their front page today about low snowpack all over the West. The gist of it is: it's too early to know for sure what the snow situation will be come summertime, because heavy spring storms could come along and make up the current deficit, but for now all signs point to a second consecutive year of low spring snowmelt, and hence very dry conditions. The article is of course focused on crops and the economy (pah!), but all I really care about is the snowpack's implications on the fantasy-world of thru-hiking.

Last year was extremely dry over the entire area that the PCT covers. Here where I live in Oregon, there was measurable precipitation on only two days between July 1 and October 10. Almost everyone who's ever thru-hiked the PCT northbound has had to hike in significant stretches of snow in California's High Sierra, but last year, no one did. I ran into one of the earliest NOBO thru-hikers last year and he said that the biggest patch of snow he had to cross in California was a hundred yards or so on the approach to Forester Pass, the PCT's high point at 13,153ft. Later thru-hikers last year, like my friend Spins, literally did not have to hike over snow once in the Sierra, which must be unfathomable to the people who have done it in high snow years and spent days without setting foot on solid ground.

Is it easier to thru-hike the PCT in a low snow year? I guess I don't really know, having not thru-hiked it in any type of year. I admit that the thing that instinctively scares me most about the PCT is traversing the Sierra in snow. From everything I've read, the mental and physical effort expended is incredible: the trail is invisible, requiring you to have strong map-reading and navigation skills (which I don't); stream crossings are flooded with snowmelt every afternoon; mosquitoes are breeding in impossible quantities on the melting snow; and postholing for miles on end is a massive undertaking that slows your pace, increases your calorie consumption, and drives you insane.

So let's say it's another dry year, and I get off easy and don't have to hike on snow very much or at all in the Sierra. Unfortunately, the tradeoff is the potentially more life-threatening problem of waterlessness. This doesn't instinctively intimidate me the way the prospect of a snowy Sierra does—but it should. In wet years on the PCT, such as 2011, I've heard that there are enough seasonal water sources flowing in the desert that one rarely has to walk more than 10 miles without seeing a source—it's almost like the AT. On the other end of the spectrum, I've read Scott Williamson mention packing 15 liters of water for a 65-mile stretch without reliable water sources in SoCal in 1992, which was a drought year. That's 33 pounds of water (1L=1kg=2.2lb). These days, volunteers leave water caches for thru-hikers in the desert, but those don't count as "reliable sources," as they can't be restocked as often as hikers drink them up. Nobody wants to show up empty to a water cache, and find that it's empty too. I'm a pretty heavy drinker (of water), so I bet I will be staring at situations in the desert, and possibly NorCal and Oregon, where I need to pack 8 liters of water or more.

Wildfires are also an issue in drought years, although as far as I know they don't threaten the physical survival of thru-hikers the way that dehydration does. What they do do is mess up hiking schedules and routes. By mid-August last year, 13 separate sections of the PCT were closed due to wildfire, which meant that there was an official re-route for every one of those places, and most of the time, the re-route was walking down a road, which is a lot shittier than walking through the woods. Hikers converge on towns waiting out fires, which honestly sounds miserable to me. I would have too much energy and too little patience with crowds of people to make that a happy situation.

Basically, I have to keep reminding myself that even though it appears I'm facing a dry, low-snow year, this doesn't mean that I'm getting an easier trail experience overall. Looong waterless stretches are tough, and wildfires are tough, and I have to be mentally ready to confront those challenges the same way I'd be ready to face deep snow and bad early-season weather.

In Pursuit of the Hirsute: Part one in the Trail Love series

Part one of a three-part series on sex, love, romance and everything in between on the trail. In this part, I'm covering the lay of the land regarding the physical appeal (or lack thereof) of hikers and the age/gender ratios one comes across in the woods. Part two will be about hiking with a significant other—whether they're with you or at home. And part three will cover the rest: the not-so-committed trail relationships that spring up, the need for occasional self-appreciation, and LGBT issues on the trail.




Attractiveness

The common perception of and among thru-hikers is that the women look closer to men, and the men look closer to wild animals. It's true that standards of physical upkeep necessarily decline when you spend 4-6 months in the woods. Almost all the men grow beards without trimming them (see my friend Soulslosher in part three for an exception), because hey when are you going to get to do that again? Some people start six months early on the beard and have some truly impressive growth by the time they're in Maine. I didn't cut my hair once on the AT, which I regretted because it was stinking hot most of the time.

Some women start with boy haircuts, also because it's stinking hot most of the time. Many don't shave their legs or armpits because a razor is just extra crap to carry in your pack. The very first time I met my friend A-Game near Franklin, NC, she was enthusiastically holding forth to a crowd of male listeners about how she wasn't planning on shaving her legs the entire way (she gave in when she left the trail to go to her 5-year college reunion in June).

So the men all grow disgusting beards and the women don't shave, unless it's their head. Sounds terrible. Except it's really not. As a whole, beautiful people tend to stay beautiful, regardless of how well-kempt they are. If you're hiking, you're just as grungy as everyone else is and don't really have a leg to stand on if you want to complain. Moreover, everyone tends to be in great physical and emotional health on the trail, which always reflects well in your outward appearance. And lots of thru-hikers are young—the median age on the AT is 26.[1] Basically, there are still a lot of good-looking, tan, happy, fit young people out there.

The real problem when it comes to savoring eye candy is ...

The Numbers

For all the complaints about the trail being crowded, the average hiker does not lay eyes on very many people every day, certainly not very many new people. This can result in sensory overload when one goes into town.  I got a mild form of Stendhal Syndrome on the AT when, after popping out of two weeks of muddy forest hiking in Vermont, I suddenly beheld all the beautiful people walking around in the beautiful sunshine in the beautiful town of Hanover, New Hampshire.


O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't!
'Tis new to thee, thou beastly thru-hiker.

And you don't even need hundreds of new eye-objects at once to overwhelm you: my friend Manks walked into the Exxon station in Atkins, Va. on the AT and took quite a fancy to the lady behind the cash register. I'd seen her the day before and thought she looked nice too, but Manks might as well have just seen a unicorn. I was literally still hearing about this woman four months later in Maine. The trail registers all over Virginia that year were sprinkled with paeans to Ashley, the Exxon station attendant back in Atkins.

The skewed gender ratio is a bit of a concern for male hikers (and for females as well, just for different reasons). The rumored male:female ratio that I kept hearing on the AT was 10:1, and many days it felt like it. It turns out that the ratio is probably more like 3:1 or 4:1.[2] Still, that means that a shelter full of thru-hikers can sometimes feel like a bad frat party. A true summer-sausage fest. One or two solitary ladies, who might either be enjoying all the attention or, alternately, really wishing they were somewhere else.

This supply-and-demand dynamic means that, more often than not, women get to call the shots, and men who think they have a chance at whatever they're after end up having to do a lot to show their dedication. It's not like sitting at a bar, nodding and smiling and trying not to reveal your true boorish nature to the girl next to you, and then maybe giving up if it's not working out. Men adjust their hiking schedules to be around women so often that it's spawned a trail term, "pink blazing" (the opposite is "banana blazing," but it's significantly rarer). One of my friends hiked 15 miles backwards to spend more time around someone he was interested in. That's 30 extra miles total if you're counting at home. This is completely unheard of, since 99% of AT hikers will bitch for days if they have to hike more than a quarter-mile off trail for anything. To the best of my knowledge, my friend wasn't even rewarded for his efforts in any way, shape or form.

The Eynd

That's all for installment one in the Trail Romance series. Look for parts two and three to appear in the fullness of time.

Footnotes

(1) The age data comes from a guy named the Ice Cream Guy in New Hampshire. His house is immediately off the AT and he has a cooler on his porch with a free ice cream bar for every thru-hiker that comes by. He also asks that everyone sign a ledger with their trail name, age, sex and hometown. He crunches the numbers after each season and for each of the last four years (from 2011, when I was there), he said the median age was 26. I believe he has an extremely reliable sample group, among NOBOs and SOBOS both, because almost everyone stops there for ice cream and very few hikers would object to providing that information accurately.
(2) This stat also comes from the Ice Cream Guy. He says it's always about 25% female hikers that sign his book.

Video and Links

Long-distance hiking porn

Lots of people make slideshows of stills from their thru-hikes and put them on YouTube with Old Crow and Dispatch songs twanging along in the background. Those are all well and good, but here are some actual filmed accounts of thru-hikes that I've enjoyed.

Walking the West

The best documentary I've seen about the PCT. Won some indie film awards. Made by an Irish guy about him and his Kiwi friend trying to thru-hike in the year 2000 (or sometime around then, I'm not actually sure ... the movie is copyright 2002). Comes in two parts, both on YouTube. If you want anything other than 240p, you have to go to their website and pay.

KCop and Iguana on the PCT

A film more representative of the average Young Person's thru-hike these days. A lot of shenanigans and laughter, which most films don't focus on, in addition to the obligatory scenery shots, which they all do. Comes in three parts, all on YouTube.

Cookie and Paul's Two-Hour CDT video

Put together by two British guys without much backpacking experience, but with good spirits and an admirable dedication to hauling margarita fixings everywhere they went. A lot of scenery footage. If you're impatient, skip to the end at 2:26:20, where they've put together a fast-forwarded two-minute version of the whole hike.

Two Feet and a Heartbeat

Some Canucks hiking the PCT in 2011. Worth it for the accents alone. There are installments for the whole trail up until Washington. Did they make it? Were they killed off? The plot thickens.


Links

Mags' Quick and Dirty Guide to the PCT
Does what it says on the tin. I use this as a gateway to more specialized sources of information. He also has guides for the Appalachian Trail (AT) and Continental Divide Trail (CDT).

Yogi's Guidebooks
Absolutely the single most helpful source for planning and executing a PCT (or CDT, or Colorado Trail) hike. Do free research on the internet, and then if you decide for real real that you're going to hike, pony up for her book before you do anything else. Every single aspect of planning and hiking is crowdsourced with advice from a dozen or so past thru-hikers, some of whom have widely different methods for how to get the job done. It's all specific to each trail. I've been reading and re-reading this ever since I got it in the mail a few weeks ago.

Both are overflowing with information about the PCT. Postholer has the all-important Sierra snowpack reports that I admit to checking now, in February, even though they don't start to matter until May.

I comment on this site now and then, even though there's more light than heat being given off in most of the forums. It's terribly organized and the site search doesn't work (use a Google search that ends with site:whiteblaze.net if you're looking for something). It's also heavily focused on the AT and eastern trails. That said, there's a gold mine of hiking information buried in the articles and forums if you have the time to dig for it.

Halfmile is a true G. He's crafted the best maps for the entire PCT and lets you download them for free. He's also got a lot of digital mapping resources at no charge.