“You haven’t been hiking on the trails unless you finish with wet and muddy boots!” my co-worker crowed.
Reflecting back on my recent hikes in the Indian Peaks Wilderness, truer words were never spoken. Earlier this month, while hiking out of Brainard Lake Recreation Area, I encountered all kinds of trail conditions.
It started out with your typical dirt trail. Then it progressed to muddy with occasional patches of snow. Then humps of snow up to four feet high, coupled with occasional post holing.
But the worst was the last mile of trail we hiked on the Niwot Cutoff. Pools of water created gullies of water where the trail was supposed to be. Many of these were six inches deep, sloshing over the tops of my hiking boots as I intrepidly splashed through the water.
The trail seemed more mud and water than actual trail. Such are the effects of a prolonged snowy and wet winter.
I’m okay with this. I came prepared with Gore-tex hiking boots that come up to my ankle and my merino wool socks. I wasn’t just physically prepared though, I was mentally prepared.
Slopping through the puddles and squishing through the mud brought back memories of my childhood. I remembered rainy days in Missouri, where my cousins and I liked nothing more than making mud pies. Only after our bodies were completely soaked did we finally succumb to the my aunt’s calls to come in.
Getting muddy brings out the kid in me, whether hiking or mountain biking. I consider the splatters of mud on my boots and legs as a badge of hiking honor.
But getting muddy isn’t just about my own delight, it’s about preserving the trail and not creating more trails.
Every time a hiker or mountain biker veers off trail to escape the mud, they are creating “social” trails. If enough people do that, it flattens the vegetation and either widens the original trail, or creates an entirely new trail.
Once a social trail is established, it’s very hard to undo the damage. People instinctively follow the beaten path. Trail workers can try and put up logs and branches to stop the flow of traffic. Trying to get plants to regrow where it’s been packed down by hundred of hikers and/or bikers is a whole different challenge.
The reality is it can take months and years for social trails to revegetate.
So before you take the easy way out, just to keep your shoes or legs clean, I urge you to embrace your inner child. Climb over those humps of snow. Heck, pelt your hiking partner with a snowball. How many places can you do that in mid-July? Splash through those puddles, and stomp it out through the oozing mud.
Our wilderness areas will thank you for it.
