The sun sparkled against the crystal clear sky. I hiked further up the rocky trail, looking forward to eating lunch next to the alpine lake. I enjoyed the solitude of my hike, seeing nary another person during this weekday in July. As I rounded the corner, I encountered a group of people chatting as they descended down the trail. They carried enormous backpacks. Packs piled high with stuff — sleeping pads, tents, etc. Those packed looked really heavy. Why on earth would anyone want to carry a huge pack on their back, while hiking up this steep trail?
Growing up in the suburbs of St. Louis, I didn’t do any camping as a child. We did take trips to parks — state parks locally, as well as road trips to national parks. But each time we would stay at a lodge or a motel, and then take shorter day hikes. By the time I moved to the California Sierra in my mid-twenties, I had never spent even a single night sleeping on the ground.
But then I met a lot of outdoorsy people who all seemed to camp a lot, and it seemed sort of fun and even a little bit romantic. I still remember my first tent I bought — a small Eureka dome 2 person tent. I set it up in my apartment, and sat inside it watching tv that first night.
Then I ventured out to actually camping, but always sticking to established car camping campgrounds with assigned sites. As a single woman, I felt safer having other people within a stone’s throw of my tent. Making a fire at night, looking at the stars, and listening to the sound of crickets and frogs as I fell asleep brought a feeling of peacefulness.
But backpacking? That just seemed like a lot of hard work for the same kind of experience I could get hiking with my daypack. Why would anyone want to carry all that weight and go through that kind of torture?
I soon found out after dating a park ranger I met in Yosemite National Park. Despite my trepidation, he convinced me to go backpacking with him for two nights to Ostrander Lake off the Glacier Point Road. Being a neophyte, I didn’t have a backpack, so I borrowed one from a work friend.
During that trip I learned a few things. One, make sure you get a pack that fits you. My friend’s pack was ill-fitting and rubbed my hip bones raw after only three days. Second, you need far fewer things than you think you need, and weight matters. Third, there is something entirely amazing about backpacking into the wilderness, spending the night where you don’t see another soul. Suddenly, I understood why those people were smiling and happy during my hike so many years ago.
The thing is, you don’t have to go far to get this experience. Many people I know get overwhelmed by backpacking, thing they need to be uber-fit to try it out. But there are many opportunities to walk just 2 or 3 miles, find a camping spot next to a lake, and dip your toe into the backpacking pond.
Fast forward many years forward, and I am now a seasoned veteran of backpacking. I’ve backpacked up to 25 days on the trail, and multiple week-long trips,, as well as many weekend forays. I’ve taken on many solo backpacking trips, something I would never have guessed I would be capable of. My first trip on my own, I got so jittery the first night, that the sound of deer coming into camp made me jump inside my tent. But soon I overcame those fears, and learned to enjoy the sounds of nature.
But I now know the beauty of a sunset over an alpine lake. The magic of watching a full moon rise over the mountains. And the solitude of sleeping in a remote wilderness with nary another person anywhere in sight. I’ve marveled over seeing places several days walk from the nearest road, knowing just a handful of people on this earth will get to witness the vistas I gaze upon.
And finally, backpacking empowers me to find an inner strength and peace of mind I can not attain in any other way. So as long as my spirit and body are willing, you will find me trekking the trails, Osprey backpack in tow, enjoying the journey.
Happy Trails!
