I can’t begin to write blogs about my evolution as a backpacker unless I trace it back to my introduction.
None of my friends back home in Northern California were backpackers. I had two friends in college who grew up backpacking with their families. It was them, Bob and Dave, who came up with the idea of taking me on my first trip, and also, where the trip would be: Mt. Whitney. And a permit? I had that covered. There were no lotteries back then. But even then, permits for Whitney Portal were difficult to come by. A family friend used to see hiking sticks to the National Parks. He had many contacts, so when I asked him if he could help out, he made a phone call, and a few weeks later, I had a permit in hand with a scribbled signature from a ranger. With the permit secured, now came the planning part…
I had slowly been purchasing gear, including an REI external frame pack, North Face Blue Kazoo sleeping bag, and a 2 person tent from REI.
However, clothing was another story. And packing clothes was an even bigger mystery. We had a 13 day itinerary. In my mind, that meant 13 pairs of regular cotton socks and 6 boxers. I could turn them inside out and get 2 days out of each pair! So that’s exactly what I packed. My hiking shirt would be a short sleeved cotton t-shirt. I packed 2 of those. I packed one extra pair of cotton shorts and 1 pair of sweats. The only sensible item I packed was an REI fleece jacket.
Food? Backpacking food was not as abundant as it is today. All I can recall is a large about of freeze dried Turkey Tettrazini, Spaghetti and Meatballs, dehydrated fruit, and power bars. My watery purifier was iodine tablets
I remember Dave and Bob driving to my parents house in Northern California. They spent the night and we embarked on the 6 hour drive to Whitney Portal at 5am. I recall getting to the trailhead, putting on our backpacks and starting our hike to Bighorn Meadow. Who needs to adjust to the altitude? Not us!
I remember the next day was a rough slog to Trail Camp. The altitude got to me, and my head was pounding like, but I made it. All I can remember about Trail Camp were these solar port-o-potties. They were disgusting and I refused to use them, so I did my business down by Consultation Lake.
The next morning we got an early start and hit the 99 switchbacks. I don’t recall those being too bad. When we got to Trail Crest we took off our packs, left them with the dozens of others there and began the final march to the top.
We summitted! Dave was so spent I don’t think he remembers anything about it, and he sure didn’t celebrate the achievement! He got to the top, laid on a rock and went to sleep. Bob and I soaked it in. After a while we hiked back down to retrieve our packs, crossed over onto the JMT, and went off trail to Lower Hitchcock Lake where we set up camp. We spent the next few days exploring, fishing, swimming, and soaking in the Southern Sierra beauty. Fighter pilots flew so low to us I thought one of the pilots was waving.
A few days later we pulled out. In large part to Dave’s constant talk of McDonalds and “real” food and my distaste of iodine infused water. When I was packing up I was amazed at what I had in my pack. I had multiple days worth of food, all east 9-10 pairs of clean socks, and 4-5 pairs of clean boxers. There was probably 8 pounds of extra weight I did not need. So what did I do with the food? I dumped it out. Yes I later learned this was a stupid idea. But at the time I had no clue about “pack it out”. And my pack was much lighter. So much so that on the 14 mile hike out, mostly downhill, I was going too fast, kicked a rock, and went airborne. The weight of my pack helped propel me forward and I ate it. HARD. I was bleeding and cut up all over. Ultimately we made it back to my dad’s 1984 Toyota Mini Van. We drove as fast as we could and made a beeline to McDonalds in Bishop.
We stopped off at a swimming hole on the Tuolumne River and got cleaned up, and a few hours later, we were home.
A few days later I put my gear away and went down to the local drug store to drop off my film to get developed. I didn’t want to look at anything backpack related. I was done. Thank god for REI’s liberal return policy.
And then a few days later I picked up my developed film. As I went thru the pictures, reliving each one, all I could think about was the great times. Gone was the 6,000’ of climbing. Gone were the headaches. Gone was the terrible sleep, aching shoulders, and constant creaking from the clevis pins rubbing on my metal framed pack.
I was ready to go again. I was going to do it a little differently next time. I learned a ton and I couldn’t wait to get back on trail…
