An Appalachian, John Muir and the Devil's Postpile

Happy trails: Blog takes a hike.

2006-08-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

Apologies for not updating for a while. I was waiting for a blog site to be finished at fresnobee.com, and it's nearly done.

The site isn't beautful yet, but it's functional. You can read future JMT blog entries from myself and the other reporters on the hike at:

www.fresnobeehive.com/jmt

Gain more than 22 pounds in five seconds!

2006-07-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

Shakespeare used to be my hiking buddy.

As I've mentioned, I used to train for backpacking trips by stuffing my red, leather-bound copy of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare into my pack (along with other assorted crap).

When the bard's life work began to look a little dog-eared, I swapped it for water. Lots and lots of water.

Water, if you haven't noticed, is really heavy. So on Friday, I crammed 10 liters of water (about 22 pounds) into my backpack along with my sleeping bag, a bear canister, a trail lunch and my regular first aid kit/headlamp/knicknacks.

The destination: six miles of the Sunset Trail in Grant Grove of Kings Canyon National Park, with 1.5 miles of the North Grove loop thrown in for giggles. The trail was nice -- downhill at the beginning, leading to a waterfall rolling down rock plateaus. Then, uphill on a dusty old road with lovely glimpses of Sequoia Lake through the trees.

I believe training with a heavy pack is wise -- sort of jogs the body's memory. Like riding a bicycle. Or, strapping a few bicycles and small children onto your body and walking uphill.

I do employ a mental trick when I put on the heavy pack.

When I moved to California about four years ago, I came directly from Texas. Three things happened. I no longer had a constant supply of mouth-watering chicken fried steaks. I began regular work outs. And, I eventually stopped drinking alcohol. As it turns out, you lose weight when you do that stuff. I dropped about 30 pounds.

So when I strap on 30-40 pounds of backpack, I give myself the pep talk that I once carried that weight around all the time.

I'll admit. It doesn't make the pack feel any lighter.

Harry Potter and the Magical Mystery Water Wand

2006-07-12T16:12:00.000-07:00

Some friends gave me a gift certificate to a hiking store for my 28th birthday, and it's burning a hole in my pocket.

I've been tinkering with my pool of gear for a few years now, and I'm still happy with my titanium spork, teeny pocket knife/scissors, headlamp and other wonders. But, there was one thing I've been meaning to change: my water purification system.

For years, I've been using iodine tablets. Not surprisingly, they taste pretty crappy and turn the water an unsettling rust color. A second tablet removes a lot of the bad taste, and Gatorade powder covers what's left.

I've resisted buying a water-cleaning pump because they always seemed like a hassle to me. So when researching a new water purification system, I came across the Magical Mystery Water Wand (my name for it).

Basically, it's a wand you stick into the water. You flick a switch, and the thing zaps the water with UV light for a number of seconds. Then, you can drink it. Magic!

Here's a link to the magical device, which claims to use "science" to purify the water: http://www.hydro-photon.com

I'm hesitant to invest in this contraption because I'm not sure I believe it works. I mean, I want to believe. I like Harry Potter and everything, but I'm skeptical that he's invented a water wand for hiking muggles. I feel like I'd have to say, "Shazam!" or something each time I used the thing.

Anyway, I may just buy some (much cheaper) chlorine drops and invest the remainder of my dough in other ways.

I cheerfully told my friends that their birthday gift may be that of regular bowel function on the trail. I know that's what they wanted to hear.

Trail Named for Sheepherder with Lungs of Steel

2006-07-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

My search for an alternative butt-kicker landed me in Kings Canyon National Park yesterday on a trail in Cedar Grove.

This trail, named for a sheepherder named Don Cecil, climbs 4,000 feet from Cedar Grove to the top of Lookout Peak above Summit Meadow. It's about a 13-mile roundtrip.

I didn't arrive at the trailhead until about 11:30 a.m. because I did the church thing yesterday, so it was pretty warm by the time I started climbing. Here's a rough chronology of events:

Mile 1: Already sweating vigorously. Pause by Sheep Creek to admire pretty waterfall.

Mile 2: Pause to pant. Resent sun for shining so brightly.

Mile 3: Panting continues. Dizzily rename the trail "The Dead Sheep Trail" in my head. (It made sense at the time).

Mile 3.5: Sit on rock to drink some water. A downhill hiker appears and offers me extra water. Although I still have two liters on me, I take it.

She cheerfully tells me how many groups are ahead of me and suggests I shouldn't be the last one out since I'm hiking alone. She shows me a large rock in her pocket, which she indicates is to fight off mountain lions.

I nod. I'm pretty certain mountain lions attack from behind, and I'd be dead as a doornail if one decided to attack me. Still, I decide not to shatter her security in the mountain lion rock. After all, she gave me water.

Mile 4.5: Pass another fork of sheep creek and eat lunch. Mmmm...turkey jerky.

Mile 6: Arrive at Summit Meadow. Although I hadn't planned to climb Lookout Peak, decide I'll kick myself if I don't go ahead and do it. Unable to see any clearly marked trail, I begin walking nearly straight up the side of the thing.

Mile 6.5: After scrambling like a bug, manage to perch myself on top of boulders on the peak. Admire view. Make stupid face for disposable camera photo.

Mile 10: The mosquitos begin swarming in front of my face, prompting me to wave them away about every 8 seconds.

Mile 11: I hate mosquitos.

Mile 12: Arrive at Sheep Creek. Fill my hat with ice cold water and dump it on my head. Decide it may have been the best moment of the entire day.

Mile 13: Blow kisses to my Honda Civic at the end of the trail. Happily remove boots. Eat large cheeseburger.

Overall, I was pleased with the trail. While it involved a lot of climbing, it didn't have any incredibly steep patches, and it was very well-maintained. Don Cecil should be proud.

The James Bond of Half Dome

2006-06-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, I'm preparing to embark on a hike known as a "butt-kicker." (It's a technical term.)

Most of the time, I'm satisfied with tramping along for five or so miles. At times, I'm even happy with a couple of easy miles.

Other times, a weird streak of masochism surfaces and I say things like, "I think I'm going to climb Half Dome this weekend. I'm ready for a butt-kicker."

Note: the climb up Half Dome and back is about 17 miles. I did it last year, and it hurt. It was a good kind of pain.

Anyway, I decided that I'd climb Half Dome again on Saturday. I gleefully planned on getting up at 4 a.m. to begin the drive out to Yosemite. I silently debated what energy bars I would buy and how much water I'd lug up the trail. I weighed the pros and cons of wearing shorts or hiking pants that convert to shorts.

When I get excited about difficult hikes, I tend to rant on and on about them to patient friends. I inflicted a rant on my friend Danielle yesterday, and she remarked that embarking on butt-kicking hiking adventures is the closest I ever get to being James Bond.

Since that conversation, the 007 of Half Dome has taken a cold shower.

A hiking colleague pointed out that Saturday is part of the July 4 weekend, meaning Yosemite will probably resemble Disneyland because of the crowds.

I'm settling for an alternative butt-kicker this Saturday, but this isn't over.

Half Dome: You will be mine.

Bwah-ha-ha!

The Quest for Sweet, Sweet Caffeine

2006-06-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

I allow myself just one addiction these days: coffee.

I prefer it black with a side of pie (when possible).

All coffees are welcome. Trucker coffee? Let it pour! Fancy-pants coffeehouse brew? Great! Gas station coffee that's been sitting on the warmer for 17 hours? I'll take a large!

Of course, this presents a problem on the trail. Lack of daily coffee consumption for people of my ilk can result in headaches, irritability and light coma.

I've spent a lot of time on this problem, utilizing Caffeine Delivery Systems (C.D.S.s) with varying results on previous hikes.

Two years ago, I went cold turkey off the stuff and drank tea. I figured the misery of caffeine withdrawal would be lost amid the misery of hiking miles and miles with a dead weight on my back at high elevations.

Having tried that once, I wouldn't recommend it.

Last year, I drank coffee "singles" that consist of tea bags filled with grounds. The system wasn't the greatest, but it was a fairly effective C.D.S.

This year, I want to try something new. Here are a few things I'm considering:

1. Pack in ground coffee and my "camp espresso maker," a small gadget that brews very strong coffee by the espresso-sized cup. Benefits: fresh, strong, tasty coffee. Drawbacks: extra weight.

2. Pack in an alternative caffeinated substance such as Irish breakfast tea. Benefits: little weight, and Irish breakfast tea rocks. Drawbacks: I take my tea with cream and sugar. And, it's not coffee.

3. Pack in coffee beans and chew them each morning. Benefits: efficient caffeine delivery without much weight. Drawbacks: Uncertain effect on intestinal systems.

4. Kidnap a good-looking barista and force him to prepare tasty coffee drinks. Benefits: Great tasting coffee on demand with no weight considerations. Drawbacks: Possible criminal penalties on return to civilization.

Suggestions are welcome.

She hikes hard for the money

2006-06-19T16:17:00.000-07:00

Fresno may have chunky air and a crappy television show bearing its name, but it's a magical place.

Don't believe me? Then consider this: I just moved here, and my hobby turned into my day job.

I, along with three of my newspaper reportin' colleagues, will be paid to hike part of the John Muir Trail this summer.

Paid to hike. Paid money. Naturally, we'll be doing reporter-like things as well. We'll be producing stories along with buckets of sweat.

I'm already planning what kind of pencil to bring.

Hiking planning brings out every latent obsessive tendency inside me. When I was a kid growing up in the Appalachian Ohio foothills, it was so simple. Get the dogs. Go in the woods. Don't bring a baby raccoon home again.

As a grown hiker, I spend weeks writing and re-writing gear lists. I put myself through hellish training hikes (although I stopped using The Complete Shakespeare for weight a few years ago). I fret about detoxing off of brewed coffee and consider carrying my camp espresso maker.

Soon enough, my boots will hit the dirt and all the planning garbage will melt away.

Until then, I'd better hit the gym.