|
|
Desert
Hiking Skills and Equipment
There are many differences between hiking Idaho's high desert
and her high mountains. The biggest overall difference is in
the level of challenge. Challenge: that's what you'll find in
every phase of Idaho desert hiking. Finding appropriate maps
will be a challenge, although this site's built-in and optional
maps will help you. Driving to and from the trailhead will be
a challenge, although the driving waypoints will also help. Locating
suitable campsites will be a challenge. Carrying and managing
water will be a challenge.
But the biggest challenge of all will be cross-country routefinding
and hiking. In the desert, you won't be coddled by maintained,
signed, Forest Service trails, secure in the knowledge that there
are lots of people around to help if something goes wrong. In
the desert, you'll follow your map and compass, often over rough
ground and usually you'll be very, very alone. GPS, working with
the waypoint coordinates in this site, will help you if you know
how to use it, but you will still need map and compass skills.
Along with these routefinding skills, you must pay special
attention to your equipment. This chapter will discuss the Ten
Essentials, clothing, and shelters, and concludes with some thoughts
on fires. A complete equipment checklist is included on a separate
page. Print it out, and go over it carefully before you leave
home!
Know Thy Self
This doesn't mean that the person with average or below-average
hiking skills should avoid the desert. Nor does it mean that
the above-average hiker already has all the skills he needs.
It means that anyone who wants to hike Idaho's high desert must
start with relatively easy hikes and work progressively up through
harder ones.
Knowing your abilities, recognizing your limitations: these are
the most important skills of all, ones that many go to the wilderness
to learn. When you feel yourself approaching your limits, don't
attempt harder hikes. Stay at that level of difficulty for a
while--you'll be surprised to see how much there still is to
learn.
Take your time learning to hike the desert, because
some day, something may go wrong that puts you in a true survival
situation. If you're already at your limit when this happens,
you'll find yourself without reserves. This is more likely to
happen in Idaho's deserts than in her mountains.
This section is devoted to techniques for desert
routefinding, hiking, and camping. Gerry Cunningham has said,
"An ounce of technique is worth a pound of equipment."
The author will attempt to convey not just desert taming techniques,
but desert adapting wisdom. This chapter is necessarily an outline
you get to fill in the gaps yourself!
Some of these issues necessarily overlap the next section on
Equipment.
Map Reading
You must develop excellent map reading skills to enjoy Idaho
desert hiking. These can't be taught in this book, nor can the
best books on the subject teach them overnight. And of course,
they can't be learned by an unmotivated person. However, you'll
get motivated after you've climbed up a blind canyon, come out
on the road a mile or two from your car, or discovered that your
companion has lead you on a twelve mile uphill "death march"!
The essential map reading skills are: ability to
understand map scale; ability to locate yourself by township,
range, and section; and ability to read elevation information
from contour maps.
Map scale is usually expressed as a ratio of map
distance to ground distance. Thus, a 1:24,000 scale map is one
where one inch on the map equals 24,000 inches (or 2000 feet,
or .38 miles) on the ground. The units could be anything for
example 1 split hair on the map equals 24,000 split hairs on
the ground.
On most Idaho desert maps, your best clue to scale
comes from section lines. Sections are one mile square units
of land, marked by surveyors at their four corners. (You will
occasionally find these corners while hiking often brass caps,
sometimes old stones.) Maps usually show sections with red lines,
and the lines are useful ways to gauge how far your hike is.
On 1:24,000 scale U.S. Geological Survey topographic maps, a
mile is about 2 5/8 inches long. On BLM 1:100,000 scale maps,
a mile is about 3/4 inch long.
The section lines help you count off the miles of
a hike. They can also help you locate yourself. Section numbers,
also on the maps, are frequently used in this book to guide you.
And the township and range grid is a major aid in locating yourself.
Townships are six mile squares containing 36 sections.
They are organized in a grid that starts at the Initial Point
near Kuna. Townships north of the Initial Point are called townships
north (abbreviated T. N.), those east are called ranges east
(abbreviated R. E.). Boise is in T. 6 N., R. 4 E. It is six townships
north and four townships east of the Initial Point. Twin Falls
is in T. 10 S., R. 17 E. Murphy is in T. 2 S., R. 2 W.
You have to look carefully outside the margins of
a topo map to find the township and range numbers. They are in
red. The township lines are also red, just like section lines,
but they are thicker.
Due to the lack of named features in the desert,
often the best way to tell a responsible person where you're
going is "the kipuka in Section 12, T. 3 S., R. 28 E."
Even with a feature named in this book, your best bet would be,
"down the Austin Trail to the Bruneau River, in Section
5, T. 10 S., R. 7 E." This is the best way to get emergency
services to you if disaster strikes.
Contour lines are the brown lines on topographic
maps. They are lines of equal elevation. Every fifth one is an
extra thick index contour, just to help you read the map. Maps
used in this book use 10, 20, and 40 foot intervals between the
contour lines.
When contour lines are close together, the terrain is very steep;
when far apart, the terrain is quite level. Contour lines tend
to look like V's going up streams, and like V's pointing down
ridges. At times, in extremely steep terrain, they may be left
off a map, temporarily disappearing. At other times, especially
in the vents of old volcanic cones, normal contour lines are
replaced by depression contour lines, which have little hatch
marks on their down sides.
Sometimes contours aren't all that important. This
is most common in lava fields. A brown tint or pattern may obscure
the contour lines. This is no problem; it's almost impossible to interpret contour lines in lava flows,
and differences between new lava (brown tint) and old soil (white)
are more important than elevation information.
Route Finding without a GPS
The essential route finding skills are: ability to use a compass;
ability to relate map information to the land around you; ability
to cope with the constant pressure of cross country travel; and
ability to recognize your own limits and avoid unsuitable routes.
In an earlier book on Idaho mountain hiking, the author said
that it wasn't absolutely essential to carry a compass. He still
believes this is true for the mountains, but regards good compass
skills as essential for the desert. (The altimeter, which he
finds extremely valuable in the mountains, is less useful in
the desert.)
Compass use is now much more hassle-free than it
was in Boy/Girl Scout days. This is because declination-compensating
compasses are easy to find and inexpensive. These eliminate a
lot of potential errors. Anyone should be able to master one
of these.
It's nice to know how to locate yourself by triangulation:
sighting on two or more known points, getting their compass bearings,
and drawing lines on a map to find your exact location. However,
the author hasn't found that skill to be really essential in
Idaho. When he has felt semi-lost, there usually weren't any
good landmarks handy that appeared on his maps. Lots of buttes
on the horizon, yes, but all too far for accurate measurement,
or at least not appearing on his maps of the local area...
The compass skills you must master include knowing
how to set the compass to the bearing you want to travel on,
and how to read the compass as you travel. To figure out the
bearing you want to travel on: 1) look at the lower left of the
map margin, find the declination, and make sure the compass is
adjusted for that declination (in an emergency, use 17 degrees
east, an average for southern Idaho); 2) set the compass to due
north, and align your map in that direction; 3) put a corner
of the compass base at your current location; and 4) pivot the
compass until the edge points toward your goal.
The bearing the compass's north arrow is pointing
at is the one you want to follow. Rotate the compass's base arrow
to this course. As you hike, periodically check your direction
of travel against the compass. "Periodically" means
every fifteen minutes or so, or however often you feel comfortable
with. Usually there is some feature on the horizon a distant
mountain or butte you can aim for, that's in the same direction.
The last and most important skill is relating what
the map shows to the landscape in front of you. This is the experience
part! Fold, bend, staple, and mutilate your maps until they fit
in your shirt pocket, so you can frequently refer to them. They
can't help you, and you can't learn from them, while they are
put away in a pack. The first thing you should watch for is the
V's pointing up streams and down ridges. In plateau country drainages
are very prominent, and easy to recognize. In lava country, there
is usually not a lot of useful terrain that shows up on contour
maps. You must concentrate on your compass and on distant landmarks.
Even with the best possible map-reading skills, you'll
still find desert routefinding a challenge. If you've never done
off-trail wilderness travel, you have a lot to learn. You must
accustom yourself to that chronic feeling of being slightly lost--it's
natural when you're traveling cross-country. Bear in mind that
it's normally easier to find your way out, and that you'll be
able to relax a bit then--but while you're on your way in, be
sure to periodically look back for landmarks you can recognize
on the way out! If you feel the need, carry a pencil and make
notes or pictures on your map.
The author has three rules by which he does his cross-country
routefinding. Rule A is that "ten thousand cows can't be
wrong". Cows are lazy, poorly equipped to climb cliffs,
and unadventurous in nature. When you are tired, when you are
in a hurry, or when you or members of your party feel uneasy
on the current route, take the easy way out and follow the cow
paths.
Rule B is that "ten thousand cows can be wrong".
When you have the time, the energy, the confidence, and the enthusiasm
to venture away from the Cowpie Trail, by all means do so. This
is the glory of trailless travel that you gain the freedom to
explore.
Rule C is that "ten million sheep can't be wrong".
It applies to travel in desert mountains, when the best routes
are long-established sheep routes.
Don't let peer pressure or this guide push you beyond
your limits. When you hear those little voices saying, "Turn
back" (from a Rule A route), follow them, please, and take
a Rule B path. Avoid any uphill or downhill route that you don't
feel comfortable with. There is almost always another way! If
you can't find it, have the courage to turn around and retrace
your steps.
Be aware of that special hazard of cross country
travel (especially on lava): paying too much attention to the
route ahead and not enough attention to the ground below. And
remember: in many sports, injuries tend to strike not beginners, but rather intermediates who have lost
their sense of caution.
Route Finding with GPS
I don't think you can go wrong with a GPS unit: today's are
truly excellent. Make sure you buy Mike Ferguson's very good
book, GPS Land Navigation, available in many Idaho book
stores and at Amazon.com (at Amazon.com it's listed as "GPS
Land Navigation; A Complete Guidebook for Backcountry Users of
the NAVSTAR Satellite System by Randy Kalisek, Leah Tucker, Michael
H Ferguson"). It's a great place to start.
Remember that in this site, all coordinates are given
in NAD27 and UTM grid. These may not be the best ones to use,
but that's what the U.S. Geological Survey topographic maps use,
and that's where the author got his numbers. Remember that eastern
Idaho is in UTM grid Zone 12, while western Idaho is in Zone
11.
You should be able to enter the waypoints for a drive
and hike into your GPS, and even make a route out of them. Ideally, you will buy a computer downloading
cable so you can steal waypoint coordinates from the waypoint
list.
Hiking the Lava
Idaho has a near-monopoly on North American lava hiking. The
state has 90 percent of all U.S. wilderness study acres in the
"Lava: vegetation largely absent" vegetation class.
It also has the only established lava wilderness area, at Craters
of the Moon. The author loves the challenges and rewards of lava
hiking, and hopes you will, too.
The average Idaho native or visitor gets his introduction
to lava hiking at Craters. He looks at an aa flow and says to
himself, "I'm going to hike 50 feet into that stuff just
to see what it's like." After about 20 feet, he turns back,
convinced that lava hiking is a drag.
He has done two things wrong! First, he has hiked
on aa, not pahoehoe. Actually, aa constitutes only 10% of Idaho's
lava; the other 88% is pahoehoe, with about 2% cinders around
Craters of the Moon. Pahoehoe makes for delightful hiking, but
at least at Craters, it's aa that grabs your attention.
Second, he has hiked without a goal. If you have a goal,
you can make surprisingly good time on lava--even aa. The author,
who is a slow hiker, reached the Hells Half Acre vent in 2 hours.
The vent is 4 straight line miles in, making for an excellent
2 mph pace. He did at least as well on aa near Craters. Because
aa is clinkery stuff with lots of edges, it is much more stable
than the platy shales of many Idaho
mountains. (Another reason why you make such good time on aa
is that it's not much fun to stop and rest!)
Campsite Selection: Backcountry Camping
There is a world of difference between camping in the mountains
and camping in the desert. You may think that desert campsites
are more numerous than mountain campsites, because there is less
terrain and fewer trees to contend with. However, the opposite
is true. Most mountain forests are carpeted with a thick layer
of duff, dead needles and twigs. They even out the ground and
make for a soft bed. There's not much brush to keep you from
laying out your tent in a perfect rectangle.
In contrast, most desert areas are vegetated with
bunchgrass and brush. You can see forever, but you can hunt forever
for a tentsite. The bunchgrass is lumpy, and the brush always
seems spaced out perfectly so that your tent won't set up well.
And the desert floor is rarely level: when you set up your tent,
you'll be amazed at how much the ground slopes.
The only hard and fast rules about mountain campsite
selection are: don't camp near water (50, 100, 150, or even 200
feet away), don't camp too close to the trail, and don't camp
in fragile wet meadows. You will probably have to break all these
rules when you camp in the desert. Often, when camping in narrow
canyons, the only feasible campsites are right next to the creek,
right in the middle of the human/game trail, and/or in a much
wetter spot than you might like.
A list of preferred campsite locations would include
dense juniper forests. The trees are notorious for choking out
grass, leaving bare soil or, where there has been extensive erosion,
leaving a pebbly surface. Sometimes there is a bit of juniper
duff accumulated. However, these qualities make good tent sites.
Another preferred campsite would be an area of sandy soil,
which can usually be moved around a bit to create a level tentsite.
(It's amazing, however, how hard sand is!) In lava country, sometimes
you can find a patch of cinders.
From time to time, you'll have to disturb the ground
to create a tentsite. There aren't any studies about backcountry
campsite impacts in sagebrush-grassland areas to tell what long
term effects might come from intensive use of an area, so just
try to disturb the land as little as possible. Uproot the fewest
and smallest sagebrush plants possible. Replace rocks in their
original positions before you move on.
Try to keep a positive attitude towards the land.
In many areas, it will be obvious that cattle and sheep have
made a mess of things long before your arrival. However, this
doesn't give you a license to treat
the desert with any less respect than you treat the mountains.
Campsite Selection: Car Camping
Because so many of the hikes in this book are day hikes far
from civilization, some comments about car camping are in order.
The author's undying image of desert car camping dates back to
an evening in Spring 1986. The author was driving the Grasmere-Rowland
Road looking for a place to pull off and camp. Light was fading.
Ahead he saw a big Suburban towing a pop-up camper trailer. The
author knew what the guy was doing: looking for a place to pull
off the road and set up. Unfortunately, the area was a sea of
cowpies, and had been for miles, with the Marys and Sheep Creek
crossings the most devastated spots. The driver, in obvious despair,
finally turned around and headed back. Where, the author will
never know--maybe home. The author continued a few miles, finally
left the cow zone, and car camped along a side road.
The biggest tragedy of desert recreation is the lack
of developed campsites. There is one developed BLM campground
in interior Owyhee County, none in Twin Falls County, none in
Cassia County, none from Gooding to Idaho Falls. The author believes
that fancy campgrounds aren't needed--just two-acre areas, fenced
from cows, with cattleguards for easy entry, a few picnic tables,
and a simple outhouse. BLM multiple-use plans, however, have
ignored this need: no new campgrounds are planned for southern
Idaho. None.
So, you are on your own. This book, however, puts
you 'way ahead of the pack! And don't forget that many native
Idahoans (instead of imports like the author) think it's just
fine the way it is. The best car camping sites are on low-quality
roads (ways) that branch off main dirt/gravel roads. You don't
have to pull far off the main road just far enough to avoid headlights
and dust. Noise shouldn't be a problem, since traffic on remote
desert roads is light. When car camping, you tend to seek good
views, but beware of lightning hazards--don't pick an ultraexposed
location during stormy weather.
Car camping can be fun! You get to carry extra foam
pads, coolers with fresh food, luxury cook kit items, Coleman
lanterns, lots of water, big roomy tents, and everything else
you can cram into your car. The author is still searching for
the ideal folding chair to sit in while cooking and eating.
Try to pick a site on public land. It's often hard to tell what's
public and what's private, and even ranchers and their hands
get confused. It's not unusual to have a local drive by, see
you, and stop to ask what you're up to, even if you're on BLM
or State land. They are always friendly they just want to make
sure you're not rustling cattle. And, occasionally, they express
amazement that anyone would want to
hike or camp in the desert (which their cattle have destroyed).
Food and Water Management
Now that we know about giardia, it's not as much fun to hike
in the backcountry--mountain or desert. No wilderness water can
be considered drinkable without boiling or superfiltering. This
especially applies to desert waters, which are often polluted
with cowpies. Desert water also tends to carry more sediment
than mountain water, and can benefit from time to settle the
silt out. If you fill a cooking pot in a creek, let it sit for
fifteen minutes. Then either filter the water, or--not as reliable--boil
it. Boil (not simmer, boil!) covered for at least three minutes--some
sources say fifteen minutes.
How much water do you need? Usually, more than you
think; often, more than you have! The author generally carries
three one liter canteens for a day hike. He almost always augments
this capacity by throwing a twelve ounce can of V-8 into his
pack. The new foil and paper juice boxes (with the little straws)
are durable but not, to his taste, as flavorful.
Three liters of water weigh about 6 1/2 pounds: a big load.
Don't just carry all that weight until you drop from
heat exhaustion and dehydration--drink it!! Studies show that
your sensation of thirst runs behind your body's need for water.
Often, people drink only half the fluid they need to replenish
what they've used. So when you stop to drink, take an extra swallow.
For outings where you don't plan to find (or you
don't choose to boil) water, plan on one gallon of water per
person per day, a figure that can include fluids from canned
foods. This is just a rule of thumb. You or other people in your
party may be quite comfortable with more or less water. And,
needs can change with the weather. A day may suddenly get hot
or cool or windy. (The thirstiest time is just before dusk on
the lava, at the end of a sunny, windy day, when the breeze stops,
the rocks release their heat, and you're down to the last swallows
of water.)
On overnighters, you can cheat on this rule of thumb.
One way is to start at about four o'clock in the afternoon. (This
may be the hottest hour in town, but in the desert it's usually
nice and breezy.) "Tank up" on water before you begin
hiking. Then you'll need water for cool, late day hiking, for
dinner, for breakfast, for cool early morning hiking, and for
lunch the next day. Plan to get back to your car at about two
p.m., when you can drink all the water (or cold drinks from the
cooler) that you want.
There is an bonus to having to carry your water:
you aren't tied to freeze dried foods. Canned anything tastes
better than freeze dried, and costs less. Also, there's more
variety. Freeze dried is still OK, and offers advantages in low
bulk, easy cooking and cleaning, and easy waste carrying. Try
a can of peas added to your favorite freeze dried dinner, or
canned fruit added to your granola breakfast.
There are no longer any bears on the Snake River
Plain or Owyhee Plateau. (Once, when the desert was healthy,
there was an equally healthy grizzly and black bear population.)
Also, there's not a huge population of camp robbing animals.
This is handy, because there aren't a lot of trees around to
hang food from! Nevertheless, you should take as many precautions
as you can. Maintain a scrupulously clean camp. Keep food out
of your tent and in your pack. Lean packs against each other
or against brushy plants: don't lay
them on the ground for salt-hungry rodents to chew on in the
night.
Equipment: The Ten Essentials
There are various lists of the "Ten Essentials for Wilderness
Travel", with the Mountaineers' being the most frequently
cited. The author will follow that list, and comment when and
why he varies from it.
The first essential is extra clothing, for cold and
wet conditions, and extra socks. It includes a wool or polypro
hat, your best warmth retainer if you must bivouac.
The second essential is extra food. The author doesn't
worry too much about this one, but he does worry a lot about
having extra water. Carry at least one night and morning's water
on a day hike.
The third essential is sunglasses, which should be
expanded to "sun protection". The author minimizes
his sun exposure. In these days of declining ozone layer protection,
it makes sense for you to do so, too. You need more sun protection
in Idaho's desert than in her mountains. The desert's light-colored
soils and dried-out vegetation reflect light--and of course,
you don't have trees to shade you. Sunglasses are essential.
They should be glass (or plastic clip-ons over eyeglasses) for
protection against ultra-violet radiation. A sun hat is equally
essential. It will keep you cool, protect your neck, ward off
rain, and keep the sun out of your eyes. Use sun screen on exposed
skin (and keep that exposure minimal by wearing long pants and
long sleeved shirts).
The fourth essential is a knife. Keep yours thin:
thick ones chafe your legs when you walk.
The fifth essential on the list is a firestarter.
The author questions this. He distrusts open fires in the desert,
and can't conceive of a situation where an open fire would be
necessary on a day hike. And on an overnight hike, or a day hike
in cold, wet weather, he would always carry a gasoline or butane
campstove. These provide much more reliable cooking.
The sixth essential is matches. The author carries
a disposable butane lighter deep in his day pack, and a plasticized
cache of white-tip book matches for overnight hikes.
The seventh essential is a first aid kit. Its contents
depend on your ability to apply first and second aid. You must
have band aids for blisters; the one-inch width work best. You
need lots of guaze and adhesive tape, for patching up injuries
and treating the worst blisters; the old fashioned sticky adhesive
tape works best on sweaty feet. Aspirin or Tylenol (and increasingly,
due to old age and tired joints, Advil) are useful. Salt pills
may help some people in some situations (also check the salt
content of V-8!). If you blister easily and you've found it useful,
carry some molefoam. You should always carry bug dope, at least
a bottle in the car you can use before you set out. One good
idea is "Sting Eze" or some similar bug bite aid. It
seems to help people who are sensitive to mosquito and mini-fly
bites.
The biggest question is whether or not to carry a
snake bite kit. The author did, religiously, for seventeen years
when hiking in desert country. It is a curious contraption, and
fun to look at in boring moments. It might even work, although
they have a nasty reputation for cutting too deep and doing more
damage than the venom. The author has fallen away from this habit
in recent years. But try as he might, with or without the kit,
the author has never gotten a snake to bite him.
The eighth essential is a flashlight. A good one
with fresh batteries will help you hike through twilight into
darkness, and thus avoid a bivouac. And if you must spend the
night in an improvised camp, a flashlight lets you find a decent
spot and keep track of your gear.
The ninth essential is maps. You must have at least
two types of maps: BLM 100K and USGS topographic maps. These
are discussed in the Desert Hiking Skills page. The maps you
can download from this site are probably an OK substitute for
the actual paper map in your hand in the field, but why not buy
the real thing if you can find it? (Although the CD with scanned
topo maps is very nice, and comes with software that lets you
print the exact area you want to hike.)
The tenth essential is traditionally described as
"a compass", but should more properly be called "routefinding
aids": compass, altimeter, and Global Positioning System
(GPS) receiver. We'll get into more detail at the page on ordering
the topo maps, but let's talk GPS here. Get yourself a GPS receiver:
just do it. They aren't that expensive now, and they are really
fun toys to play with. You don't need the fanciest twelve-channel
receiver for the desert: the less expensive six-channel models
will work just fine. Remember that GPS is almost worthless without
good map and compass skills. Buy yourself a good compass, with
rotating bevel for marking a course; if you don't have GPS, you
also must get the declination adjustment feature. The Silva Ranger
and Suunto Professional are good models.
The sighting mirror they have is not essential, but nice (and
fun).
Clothing
Someday someone will become the first person to hike the Great
Rift in cut offs and tennis shoes-period. The author salutes
him (or her). However, he urges you to be more prudent!
Having the right clothes will make your experience more pleasant
and much safer. You don't need to spend hundreds at your local
outdoors store to enjoy the desert, but the new clothing they
offer is getting more and more versatile and effective.
Boots can make or break your hike. Lug soles are
a must for the desert. It's just too rugged out there for any
other type. The big question remains: all leather or leather-and-fabric
upper? The author has used both types, and likes the lightness
and coolness of the "hybrid" boots. He believes the
main consideration is ankle support. The early hybrids offered
little. New models are better. Be wary if you try on a pair that
doesn't grip your ankles. It's no fun to hike cross-country when
your ankles twist on every uneven spot. The author uses Spenco
insoles in his hybrid boots, for extra cushioning.
Some people are thin sock people, some are thick
sockers. The author belongs to the latter group, and Thor-lo
brand "Trekking" socks are the author's favorite. They
are better than wool at cushioning your foot and wicking away
moisture. You may want to experiment with thin liner socks. Carry
extra socks! It really gives you a lift to change pairs in the
middle of a hot, rugged hike.
The author wishes some high-tech camping company
would come out with a summerweight "gaiter" similar
to the old army canvas spats. They would keep cheatgrass and
needlegrass out of your socks., and force ticks to make a long
climb up the outside of your pants before they can reach skin.
(Come to think of it, this would be an easy sewing project.)
You should have two types of hats: one wool for cold/wet
weather, one cotton (or 60/40 or Gore tex) for hot/wet/dry. The
author's favorite is his long billed, rear flap "Bonefish
flats" hat. It provides the eye shading of a baseball cap
plus the neck shading of a tennis hat.
Your shirt can be any quality long-sleeved shirt
from your closet. The preferred types are tightly-woven poplin
or heavy "canvas". Their mosquito proofness is important,
even in the desert. (And the author has finally purchased a nylon
shirt, which he hopes will help in wet weather.)
The author has long maintained that the best choice
in pants is a light weight, light color, cotton-polyester blend.
Known as "chinos", "trail jeans", or "trail
pants", the light-weight fabrics dry out quickly when wet.
However, he has grown fond of his heavyweight khaki "canvas"
pants. They seem to be more water repellent than blue jeans,
although they would probably get just as cold, wet, and stiff
on a rainy day. And, again, he has recently converted to the
textured nylon pants.
If you are worried about cotton's bad reputation
in cold wet weather, carry a thin set of polypro underwear in
your pack, as the author does. Their slight weight will protect
you in wet weather.
Shorts are inappropriate for desert hiking. In brushy
areas, they don't protect your legs. Also, snakes tend to strike
above the ankle. With long pants, there's a chance they'll just
snag on pant legs instead of biting the real thing.
Insulating clothing should be based on your experience
and your wealth. The author always carries a medium weight sweater,
a fleece vest or jacket, and a pair of thick fleece pants. The
pants add lots of warmth, and are a great comfort in bivouacs
and emergencies. In the car in normal weather, and in the pack
in cold weather, he carries his invaluable polyester pile jacket.
His wife, more sensitive to the cold, always keeps her down parka
and long johns handy.
The author always carries wool or polyester gloves
or mittens, depending on the season. They really help on a bivouac.
Rain and wind protection round out your clothing
needs. The author is old fashioned, and carries a wind shell
and a rain parka, as well as rain pants and wind pants. Theoretically,
Gore-tex or similar waterproof yet breathable parka and pants
could combine both functions, but the author is stubborn and
opinionated against those miracle
fabrics. Try them. Perhaps the miracle will work for you.
Shelter
The great Gerry Cunningham said, "The most important
thing you can carry into the mountains is a good night's sleep."
This statement is especially true in the desert, where you often
start with less-than-perfect campsites. "A good night's
sleep" requires a good tent, a thick foam pad, and a comfortable
sleeping bag.
A desert camping tent must be freestanding and windproof.
Many tents that do just fine in the mountains are not adequate,
for two reasons. First, they rely on stakes that are firmly set
into the deep duff soil of the forest, whereas desert soil is
often too hard to stick stakes into, and without big rocks to
tie the tent down with. Second, they are not sufficiently windproof
for the unsheltered steppe. Until mid-1987, the rainflies of
all the author's tents flapped noisily in a high wind an aggravating
but forgiveable flaw. One night, though, aggravation turned to
astonishment as a high wind bent the poles and blew over the
tent! The solution was to buy a geodesic dome tent--not as large,
but much more windproof and taut.
The author carries a ground cloth to protect his
tent when carcamping and, hopefully, smooth out a few bumps.
It is made of a thick vinyl that will obviously last forever.
Your present sleeping bag will probably work in the
desert. The author has three to choose from. He likes his zero
degree, dacron winter bag for car camping in cool, wet weather.
He loves the luxurious feel of his ancient ten-degree goose down
bag on a cold spring or fall night. But he most often selects
his high tech, 25 degree, "Holofil" sleeping bag. It
offers light weight, a good mummy design, a more appropriate
temperature range, and the advantages that synthetic fill has
in wet weather.
Whatever you carry, no matter how much you spend,
the awful reality is that on many warm nights, you won't sleep
inside your sleeping bag, but rather under it, with it opened
up and draped over you.
On that kind of night, all you'll have under you
is your dirty old foam pad, or air mattress, or whatever. A nice,
easily washable cover would be a nice sewing project.
If you really want comfort in the desert, you'll admit to yourself
that foam pads are not enough. The author carries a
standard ThermaRest pad; his wife carries the thicker CampRest
version.
Stoves and Fires
A small butane or white gas backcamping stove minimizes your
impacts on the desert, and maximizes your chances of survival
in an emergency. The author would never consider an overnight
trip without his trusty white gas stove. He usually carries it
when day hiking in cool, wet weather, along with instant cocoa
and soup.
But what about fires? Where are the instructions
on how to build a desert fire and then scatter the rocks and
cover up the fire scar? When does the author rhapsodize on the
fragrant smell of a sagebrush fire?
He doesn't.
He really doesn't believe desert backpackers should
build fires. He is scared of fire in the desert. It's always
too dry out there for safety--there's always the chance that
one gust of wind might carry one spark to one clump of dry grass.
He also believes there isn't that much decent fuel out there.
He fears that identified campsites will quickly be plucked clean
of dead sage branches (or juniper deadfall, a surprisingly rare
commodity).
So, the choice is yours. If you stick with your stove,
you will enjoy peace of mind and evenly cooked food. If you choose to build a fire, keep it very small,
be extremely careful, and please eliminate all traces before
you leave.
Conclusion
This has been a mere outline, written by a person who still
feels he has a lot to learn. If you are new to hiking and backpacking,
the author recommends that you read Walking Softly in the
Wilderness : The Sierra Club Guide to Backpacking. This still
impresses the author as the best backpacking guide. And, to get
the full flavor of desert hiking a la Southwest, find a copy
of Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker. |
|