[pct-l] Confessions of a Heavy-Hiker

[CHUCK CHELIN]

Good morning, all,

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is
noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third, by experience,
which is the bitterest." - Confucius

I recently wondered how my commitment to ultra-lite hiking evolved if the
venerable Confucius is correct in that observation.  The first is
reflection:  I reflected and asked myself, “All else being equal, is it
wiser to carry heavy stuff or light stuff?”  That was easy:  Being lazy, my
take-away from reflection was that I prefer to carry lite stuff.

The next one – imitation – took a bit longer to resolve.  Hiking in the ‘50s
with the Boy Scouts I fell in with a group of guys who each tried to
out-macho the others by showing how lite they could hike.  We could have
gone the opposite way with each showing how much weight they could carry –
but we didn’t.  Some of the resulting actions weren’t always wise, but the
ultra-lite tendency was well established, and with that I got a good start
at an impressionable age.  Later there was a real dry-spell for roll-models
in the ultra-lite hiking field.  The late ‘60s and early ’70s produced a
groundswell of back-to-nature hikers who had more money than experience and
they were heartily welcomed by marketers who were more than willing to
lighten their wallets rather than their packs.  I persisted with ultra-lite
methods anyway, and was rewarded in the mid-‘90s when Jardine went on record
through his books telling me what I wanted to hear; and I agreed with fully
half of what he espoused.  Over the next 15 years ultra-lite has been
independently embraced by thousands of bright, experienced long-distance
hikers who, on the PCT alone, outnumbered the traditional – read, “heavy” –
hikers many fold.  What I learned over that period was that not only is
lite-hiking easier, but I’m also in good company.

As Confucius said, my heavy-weight learning experiences were indeed bitter.
As a young soldier I had to hike with lots of stuff and, to make it worse, I
had to wear boots.  Someone at a desk decided what we carried and as the
saying goes, “Nothing’s impossible for those who don’t have to do it.”
 Particularly
delightful were the days when it was my turn to carry – in addition to all
my regular gear -- the 60-pound breach section of one of our many M2 .50
cal. machine guns – the storied “Ma-Duce”.  What I learned from that
experience was to avoid any situation where someone else gets to decide what
I carry.

Some overloads fall into the category of self-inflicted wounds.  There have
been many such indiscretions throughout my hiking career, but a few are
memorable:  On canoe trips in the upper Midwest and southern Canada I had to
carry boats and gear over the portage trails.  Most portages were poorly
maintained: Steep and rocky where they weren’t full of muskeg and sinkholes.
They were seldom over a mile or so in length but it was often necessary to
make 3-4 trips to transfer everything to the next lake.  Trying to reduce
the number of trips I would try to carry as much as I could.  Often I would
have a relatively lite 20-pound Duluth Pack on my back, a similar one slung
in front on my chest, and then to top it off, I would shoulder an 87-pound
canoe which had been positioned ready with one end propped on the branch of
a tree.   Even though it made a very well balanced load I really could have
made more trips.  Another time, in addition to all my hunting and camping
gear, I carried over 90 pounds of meat about 8 miles out of a Wilderness
Area -- about a third of which was difficult off-trail hiking.  Again, I
really could have made more trips.

What I learned from these overloads was to cool the hormones.  Just because
I can do something doesn’t mean I should.  I love a quote attributed to
Yogi, “We pack for our fears.”


Steel-Eye

Hiking the Pct since before it was the PCT – 1965

http://www.trailjournals.com/steel-eye

http://www.trailjournals.com/SteelEye09