Backpacking Alone

People always tell me, "You shouldn't go backpacking alone." The words usually come from people's mouths that have probably never gone backpacking before in their lives, or those who have done it once or twice and decided it wasn't for them. These people might be curious as to why someone might decide to go into the wilderness for several days all by themselves to eat freeze-dried food, sleep in a tent, walk for miles and miles with a heavy pack on your back, and, most of all, do these things all by yourself. Well, I'll tell you why.

I spent last week in the North Cascades. Yes, all by myself. I was supposed to be going with two buddies of mine. One buddy had a valid reason for not wanting to go. I didn't expect he'd want to go in the first place. The second buddy flat out bailed on me. But that's cool. He missed out, not me. I went. And it was great. It was great to eat freeze-dried food. Those who have been on the trail would all agree that anything tastes good when you are backpacking. So, why would anyone want to spend several days in the woods, all alone, eating freeze-dried food? Because it tastes amazing! I'm no gourmet when I go out. I tend to stick to what is fast and simple. For the most part, I eat the same things every day. I wake up in the morning, heat water on my stove, and eat a couple packets of instant oatmeal and a granola bar. Come lunch, I whip out the cheese, summer sausage, and a bagel to make myself a sandwich. Usually I throw in another granola bar with that and guzzle a liter or so of water, straight from a stream or lake. Gross? It's probably cleaner than the stuff coming out of your faucet at home. Then comes dinner. Ramen couldn't get any better. Two packages of the stuff. You heat it up and then wrap it up in a tortilla. If you are feeling like a go-getter, you mix in some black beans and rice (recipe I learned in the Olympics from a friend who undoubtedly knows how good food tastes when in the woods). This past week, I crawled out of my bivy at about 5:30 in the morning, just as the sun was peaking up over the mountains across the valley below. I cooked my oatmeal and then heated some water to wash out my bowl. Looking down over the clouds which had settled in the mountain below, and up to the stars which had yet to disappear from the sky, I drank that warm, dirty water straight from my bowl and thought, "This is the life." Freeze-dried food really isn't bad out there. In fact, it's amazing.

And who want's to sleep in shelter of fabric for days at a time? I was camped up on a place called Copper Ridge two nights ago. I had finished dinner and stared at the glaciers across the valley as I listend to the sound of thunder roll through the mountains. When you are up that high you can watch the clouds churn as they roll in over you. As the sounds of thunder grew louder, I said, "Let it storm." Two seconds later I began to hear the sound on light rain drops on my jacket. I hurried into my bivy as the rain grew stronger. Snug in my sleeping bag, the rain coated everything around me with water. But not me. I lay in my tent perfectly dry, listening to the drops pound against the waterproof fabric as I watched the rain pour down outside. Having brought a book into the bivy with me, along with my head lamp, I hoped it would rain all night. I hoped it would storm violently knowing that the thin layer of fabric separating me from what was happening outside was all I to make what could be a very miserable, and even dangerous evening quite pleasant. That's what I love about sleeping in a tent.

But to walk for miles with aching feet while having to carry all your stuff? I woke up after that storm the following morning and hiked higher onto the ridge carrying everyting that had gotten me through the past five days. Going up a steep switch-back trail, I was out of breath after fifteen minutes, but walked on. I continued to get higher and higher until reaching Copper Mountain Lookout, a panoramic view of some of the most gorgeous scenery that many will never see because they can't get past their aching feet, or are not willing to hurt a little to get a lot. Encumbered with my heavy pack, I moved slowly, soaking in everything I could before descending once again into the forest where I pushed through spider webs and puddles of muddy water. As I approached my car, a butterfly flew in front of me for nearly a whole minute as I walked. So yeah, my pack was heavy, but so what. It was worth every pound.

Though all alone? Why not? We spend every day of our lives surrouned by people. Whether we know it or not, we are constantly adjusting what we do and how we act as we wonder what he or she is thinking. But when you are alone, out in the backcountry, it is only you. This is how you begin to know yourself. Without spending time alone, you'll never know who you really are, and how much there is to yourself that you've yet to understand. I'll admit I do get scared sometimes, especially at night. But I'm O.K., and and am better for it. I know I'm funny because, out there, I've made myself laugh. I know I'm happy, because, out there, I smile. And I know I'm fortunate because, out there, I'm always anxious to return to all I have.

Don't go backpacking alone? Those are the words of someone who has never done it. Maybe they are afraid of what they might find out, or who they might come to know. I don't know when my next trip will be. Don't count on an invitation.