Load Warrior

Still thinking Pinnacles was going to cough up a condor

Out of ten days, I spent eight traveling and backpacking.  Apparently this is a thing I do now.  I just got back on Sunday.  It is still really weird to me that I have gone from needing help to get out of bed in the morning, to hiking into mountain goat zone with a backpack.  Both felt natural at the time.  When did I turn into this bushwhacking, rock-clambering person?

On the first trip, I was the eldest of six in our group.  This is both strange and not-strange.  Almost every single one of the dozens of people we saw on the trail was under 30.  Usually, though, backpackers tend to skew a bit older.  On weekdays you get retirees.  Most endurance sports include more older than younger people due to the cash flow issues.  Mature people can afford the equipment, the gas, and the permit fees.  We also tend to be better organized, mostly because we have more control over our schedules.  Getting a group of half a dozen people to arrive at the same place at the same time can be pretty complicated, especially if most or all of them work unpredictable shifts.

We were fortunate enough to win the permit lottery and hike into the Enchantments, the same route that we did back in September.  This proved to be an interesting experiment.  We were able to add mileage and camp at a higher elevation, and then do a day hike yet further up the mountain.  5500 feet!  It made me want to repeat the Portland Marathon (knowing I would be virtually guaranteed to run a PR).  All told, we hiked fourteen miles round-trip, and ten of that while wearing packs.  I’m not sure exactly how much my pack weighed, because I crammed more stuff into it after the “official” weigh-in, not wanting my husband to know just how much I was planning to carry.  It was at least 40 pounds though.
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Why would a 122-pound, small-framed person such as myself want to carry a 40-pound backpack 5000 feet up a mountain?  This is the crossroads of minimalism and endurance training.  On the one hand, I want to carry as little as possible just to prove to myself that I can do it.  On the other hand, I want to carry as much as possible just to prove to myself that I can do it.  Here lies a real conundrum.  The truth is that I don’t really feel the weight, and I feel like I will wind up carrying more than that if/when I graduate to longer trips.  I’d really like to hike the Triple Crown one day, and it seems like being able to carry seven days’ worth of supplies would make that more likely.

Minimalism can often involve quite a lot of stuff.  For a backpacker, I’m on the middling-to-absurd end.  For a suburbanite, I’m on the extreme end.  What have I got in there?  I don’t tolerate cold at all well, so most of the heavy gear consists of bedding and clothing.  There’s the sleeping bag, air mattress, space blanket, and inflatable pillow.  There are the three jackets, the base layer, the hat and gloves and buff and package of hand warmers.  I put them on at night and I still sit there shivering; I go to bed at 9 PM more because I’m cold than because I’m tired.  There’s the water and the first aid kit, because really.  There’s the inflatable solar lantern and the folding chair for luxury.  Then there’s the cookpot, the stove, the fuel, and the food.  Here is where I can cut weight easily: I tend to bring boil-in-a-bag meals rather than dehydrated food.  I’m perfectly capable of dehydrating my own backpacking meals, and I have done so, but it’s so much more work that it seems worth it to just haul a heavy pack.  If I cut five pounds of food or gear, I’d almost certainly add back five pounds of gear I don’t usually carry, such as a machete or another base layer.  If only I had a 3D printer that could make things out of squashed mosquitos.

The second trip was less physically taxing, but I’ll include it for comedic purposes.  A raccoon tore my tent.  I got some mosquito bites, and I finally had my beloved Therapik with me, but as soon as I pushed the button I found that the 9V battery had died.  The batteries in my head lamp had also gone flat.  I packed for cold weather again, only to find that it was over 80 degrees every day, and I hadn’t brought any shorts, swimsuit, or sunblock.  I still have never used the sunhat I bought at Goodwill years ago for this purpose, and I have the sunburned ears to prove it.  I didn’t bring quarters for the shower.  We went to this park specifically in hope of seeing a condor, hiked five miles to the preferred viewing area, and saw nary a one.  Just as I was taking down the tent on the way home, a fire ant crawled up my pants and bit my knee.  Like it couldn’t wait ten more minutes for me to leave.

It turns out that the outdoor life has toughened me up considerably.  I can now state that stinging nettle and fire ant bites rate about the same, as the pain is worse from the fire ant but it only lasts about half as long.  I’m (almost) grateful that these things happened, because I was able to endure without setting off a migraine or a fibromyalgia flare-up.  I used to be a frail little flower indeed.  Now, I’m tougher than just about anyone.  Maybe one day I’ll feel that I’ve proved my point and I can convince myself to pack a lighter bag.

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Unflattering selfie with mountain goat: the ultimate humblebrag