My first backpack trip was in Vermont with my boyfriend Jack in 1971, just after I was deported from England. I had done some camping as a kid at Camp Longacres, in NY state, and a bit more in England and Scotland, but “roughing it” was just not something my family did. Jack took me out to his favorite quarry, a 3 mile hike, and we shared the night with peyote and one sleeping bag. The next day, we meant to check out a stretch of the Long Trail near his hometown of Shelburne, but got lost and ended up sleeping in a farmer’s field, still high on mushrooms. The farmer chased us out in the early morning, so we went back to his parents place for breakfast.
My next backpack adventures included a few miles of the Appalachian Trail (AT) in New England: Mt. Washington most memorably, a bit of the 100-mile Wilderness in Maine, one sleepless night on Mt. Desert Island, and some more on the AT down in the Smokies. Nothing long, and my gear was horrible. My sleeping bag was one of those old Coleman bags lined with deer prancing across the flannel. The canvas and wood pack was something I scrounged at a thrift store. But I sure loved every moment.
The next year, I made my own Frostline kit pack (which I took to Crete, (a story I tell in an earlier blog). That pack took John and I into the Olympics in Washington in 1972 for a week: up the Quinault River to Enchanted Valley, across a glacier, and over O’Neil Pass. That was my first serious backpacking trip and it nearly killed me….blue jeans, cans of baked beans and tuna, no sleeping pad, a heavy Army Surplus down bag, and bloody cotton socks. (I tell that story, too, in another blog). It amazes me I didn’t swear off backpacking forever, but I adored it (after my feet healed)! During that time, I also backpacked with a friend, Scoop, to Tassajara Hot Springs and Monastery in Big Sur, a ritual trip for all serious wannabe hippie Buddhists. It was very wet and muddy, and I remember feeling like a pro because I had REAL hiking boots. Scoop and I also took a few days up in Menominee land in Wisconsin in 1971.
John and I visited the Olympic Nat’l Park beach and had 3 days in a tent by the ocean.
In Idaho, we checked out the Salmon River and Seven Devils area. I was hooked for life. I backpacked to several Rainbow Family gatherings and near Nelson, B.C. with friends.
Once kids came along, backpacking went into the closet, although we did a lot of car camping through the years, visiting National Parks and remote mountains from Washington to Pennsylvania. During our time in Alaska, we didn’t backpack at all and barely took hikes. I started running instead to stay sane.
But starting in 1983, I got serious about purchasing decent gear and planning ever more adventurous trips: in the John Muir Wilderness, the eastern Cascades, the Grand Tetons. My pack got lighter (I think it weighed about 50# during these years, yikes!!) My trips were with friends and mostly 2-3 days, but were wonderfully rejuvenating.
Once I moved to Boulder in 1986 and met Alan in 1987, our escapades got bigger, longer and more off-the-beaten-path. We returned to the Olympics, went down in the Grand Canyon for a week (our packs were over 60#! We carried a full 35mm SLR Nikon camera and lenses. And large binoculars.) We hiked up to the Continental Divide near Boulder with friends one 4th of July. I had sprained my ankle and limped the whole way. Alan slipped off a log and got soaked in the creek. There was a lot of snow up high. We read Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time in our tent.
Once we moved to southwest Colorado, the trips became more frequent and serious. Grand Gulch, Chicago Basin, Emerald Lake, Indian Peaks, the Rio Grande, the Raggeds and West Elk, the Flattops, the Chiricahuas in Arizona (that was a bust….it snowed 2 feet, so we went to Bahia de Kino in Mexico instead). We bought the latest gear, got lighter and lighter, spent weeks planning routes, dehydrated and mixed hundreds of our own meals: chicken ala king and curry and rice being our favorites.
I got so into it I started painting pictures of our gear:
Our granddaughter Laney began joining us when she was 12 or so, and those were the best trips of all: all over Weiminuche Wilderness, Rainbow Hot Springs, the Grand Canyon (oh, that Papago Slide!!) (https://youtu.be/8Z25mr_EvPA) (start at 5 min.), Grand Gulch, Cirque of Towers in the Wind River Range. Since moving to New Mexico, we’ve had 1 major trip around the Conejos River headwaters on the CDT, one of many we’ve done with our friend D.
We have more trips planned for the future, a few perhaps this winter, when we travel south to avoid the mud season here. Maybe a meander through Joshua Tree, or Organ Pipe. Perhaps a bit of the Arizona Trail in Tonto Nat’l Forest. Our packs are down to about 24# (without water). Our gear is state of the art. Even the dogs have their own setup. Our dreams never end. We don’t go fast, but we go far.
In the meantime, we watch our favorite YouTube channels for inspiration: The Wander Women: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHjTuOQm4Usi_4GBslFaENQ and, recently, Itchy Boots: https://www.youtube.com/c/ItchyBoots.
My point in these rambles through time? Get outside, whatever that means to you! Enjoy sunrises. Surprise yourself. See beauty in nature.
4Fords Journal 