Over Memorial Day Weekend my wife, my in-laws, and yours truly had a three-day, two-night hiking trip planned in the San Gorgonio Wilderness that included reaching Mt. San Gorgonio's summit. (I saw “planned” because the trip ended up being a two-day, one-night journey, cut short due to the trail conditions on the way to the summit... more on that later.)
Growing up, my family was not very outdoorsy. We'd stay at a campground every now and then in the summer months, I had a couple of Boy Scout trips that fell into the same category, but those usually involved driving to a campground or hiking to a camground with cabins, fire pits, and so on. My wife's family, however, are definitely a few notches higher on the outdoorsy scale. Whereas my camping experiences were limited to muggy campgrounds in northern Illinois, her childhood included trips to Bryce Canyon and Yosemite, both of which, I imagine, are a tad more scenic and majestic than what Illinois had to offer.
Since meeting my wife, I've gone on a number of day hikes with the in-laws (and Sam). We've been to many sites here in Southern California: Palomar Mountain, the Angeles National Forest, Mt. Lowe, and the Santa Monica Mountains. However, until Memorial Day Weekend this year, I had never done an overnight trip.
As I mentioned earlier, all of my overnight trips in the past were either accessible via automobile or had decently modern facilities at the campsite. There's nothing modern about doing multi-day hikes. Everything you need, you carry in, and everything you use that's not biodegradeable, you carry out. They call it “backpacking” for a reason - because everything is on your back.
If you ever see someone standing at a trailhead, getting their picture taken, with a backpack as big as ours, you can count on one of two things:
- They are going to be “in the wilderness“ for a week or more and have such a large and weighty pack because they need food and provisions for an extended period of time, or
- This is the first multi-day hike ever and they are incredibly naive and foolish and have not the slightest idea as to what it feels like to march miles uphill carrying 45 pounds on their back
If you couldn't guess, we fit into the second category.
When you're packing for your very first overnight trip, you're thinking about creature comforts:
- What am I going to do in the downtime? You think to yourself, “Hey, when we reach the camp, we're going to have hours of time before bed. There will be no TV, no computer, no Internet. What in the world is going to hold my attention! This is when you start to get into trouble. “I'll bring my iPod,“ you say, reasoning that it's fairly light and has entertaining music and podcasts. But then that nagging voice enters your head: “What happens when it runs out of batteries? Well, better bring a book, too!“
- What if I'm hungry? Packing food, water, and tools for making natural water potable is, of course, an essential, but there's a fine line between bringing enough food for the trip and in case of emergencies, and bringing too much food in the name of variety and flavor.
- What of laundry? Since it's not possible to wash clothes while in the wilderness, the natural thought is to bring a separate pair of clothes for each day. Wouldn't want to wear the same shirt two days in a row. That would be gross. (These are the sorts of thoughts you have before the trip starts; after you've had to dig a hole in the ground, squat over it, and do your best to poo in it, wearing the same shirt two days in a row no longer rates so high on the gross scale.)
On top of packing in these extra tools, the first-timer's equipment is usually substandard. It's not that it's necessarily of poor quality, but, because you were trying to save a nickel and couldn't comprehend how 4 extra ounces in weight really does make a difference, you bought the less expensive, but heavier, gear.
The end result is an oversized, overweighted bag, but one that has a plethora of food and entertainment choices.
(When you're packing for your second overnight trip, you're thinking: “Do I really need a tent?“ and, “I heard that the soldiers on the Baatan Death March were able to hike 60 miles on a very limited diet - do I really need all this food?“)
For our Memorial Day Weekend trip the first day went as planned - we hiked from the trailhead to the Dry Lake campground, where we setup our tents and sleeping bags by 3:00 PM. That iPod I had? And the book to fall back on should the iPod's batteries get drained due to my excessive listening? Didn't touch either. There were a few minor chores to do - get some water from the spring and boil it to make it potable, for example - but after being on your feet for the past seven hours carrying all that weight on your back, what actually is more entertaining and enjoyable than an iPod or a book is simply sitting down and staring off into space. Just letting the body (and brain) shut down for a bit.
That was a hoot until I started to realize just how cold I was. 9,200 ft. up with the sun going down... it gets chilly quick. And, like a true first timer, I didn't have the equipment to keep warm. So by 6:00 PM, after eating, I was in the sleeping bag with a nalgene full of hot water, trying to stay warm. And even then, staring at the top of the tent proved to be a more entertaining choice than reading or listening to music/podcasts. I felt pretty miserable at the campground that evening (a bit of altitude sickness and being freezing cold) and worried that tomorrow would be even worse - sore muscles, pounding headache, and so on. To boot, tomorrow's hike was to take us to the summit and involve the hardest hiking for the three-day trip. Joy!
Fortunately, the second day was actually much more enjoyable. While the morning air was freezing cold and getting started was hard, once we got moving the backpack seemed a lot lighter. My muscles aches a lot less and the headaches scattered throughout the first day were no more. I'm sure munching a couple Advil every few hours helped things out, in that regard....
As we worked up from camp at 9,200 ft. toward the summit at 11,500, snow started creeping in on the trail. Snow on the trail has one advantage, as you can see who's come before you. On that day, I knew we were the first human hikers and that the snow on the trail had descended overnight, because there were no footprints (except for a big bear footprint every now and then). By the time we had reached about 10,500 ft., the snow on the trail had become too pervasive for us with our heavy backpacks and lack of experience to safely press on.
We turned around and hit the road. Rather than stopping back at Dry Lake campground for another night, we decided to hightail it back to the trailhead so that we could enjoy the comfort of running water, toilets, non-dehydrated food, and matresses. We made it back to the car around 7:00 PM, having knocked out over 14 miles for the day and a net elevation change of over a mile (~5,600 ft).
Tomorrow we leave for another planned three-day, two-night hike in the San Gorgonio Wilderness. We're going up a different way, one that's more trying on the first day, but easier on the second (in part because our equipment can be left at the base camp when hiking up to the summit). We're wiser, too. I've dropped my pack weight close to ten pounds. No iPod; no books; just one set of clothes; a much lighter sleeping bag; the correct clothes to combat the cold; no heavy cotton clothes.
This trip and the one over Memorial Day weekend were done as preparation, because we're gluttons for punishment and have decided that, Boy, wouldn't it be neat to do a week-long hike? And so, in August, we're doing a 60-mile, seven-day, six-night hike through a portion of the John Muir Trail. Insanity!