Chris Townsend

by The Backpacker's Handbook - 3rd Ed

  There are lighter-weight down-filled models, such as Sierra Designs Hot Shooties, with a 2-ounce down fill, closed-cell foam insoles, nonskid nylon outsoles, and Velcro closures (9 ounces), Climb High Down Booties with reinforced soles (8 ounces), and Feathered Friends Down Booties (9 ounces), which have removable EPIC shell booties, removable foam insoles, and 4 ounces of 800-fill power down. I particularly like the idea of the last ones, since you could wear them outdoors, then remove the shells and the insoles and wear them in a tent and in your sleeping bag. The shells could be used just over socks too.

  On solo cold-weather trips when I’m likely to spend most if not all of my camp time in the tent (probably in a sleeping bag), I often carry pile or fleece socks, since they’re much warmer for their weight than wool socks. For years I’ve used Helly Hansen fiber-pile boot liners, which just reach my ankle and weigh 3.5 ounces. The name suggests they could be worn in boots, but I wouldn’t do this except around camp, because pile and fleece are nonabsorbent and don’t wick moisture quickly, so they get sticky with sweat quite quickly, though you could wear them with sandals. They are, however, wonderful to pull on over cold, wet feet at the end of the day; great for sleeping in; and nice for wearing in the tent when you aren’t in the sleeping bag. My Helly socks are no longer sold, but there are plenty of similar socks, usually made from 200-weight fleece and often promoted for wearing with sports sandals. Wyoming Wear is a major brand.

  If you want to wear socks outside without putting your boots back on, a pair of mukluks (soft, weatherproof overboots that can be worn over pile socks, wool socks, or even insulated booties) are a good idea. Outdoor Research’s Modular Mukluks are a lightweight example; they’re made from Cordura—coated on the foot, uncoated on the legs—have removable closed-cell insoles, reach up to the knee, and weigh just 8 ounces. They come with removable 8-ounce pile socks, which makes them an alternative to insulated booties. Of course, for short excursions outside the tent, you could just pull stuff sacks or plastic bags over your socks.

  TREKKING POLES AND STAFFS

  When I started hiking, it never occurred to me to use a staff or trekking pole, and these aids were rarely used by anyone else. Using two poles was unheard of. When I started Nordic skiing, however, I discovered that when I had to carry the skis on my pack, using the poles improved my balance. After a while, I realized I didn’t need skis on my pack for a staff to be useful, and I began picking up stout sticks to help me on steep slopes and when fording streams. Staff in hand, I found I could negotiate steep scree slopes, boulder fields, and tussocky tundra with much more confidence and less worry that my unwieldy burden would tip me over.

  I soon found that a staff has even more uses. On level ground and good trails, it helps me maintain a walking rhythm. When crossing soft boggy ground or snow, it can probe for hidden rocks and deep spots as well as provide support. It can hold back bushes, barbed wire, stinging plants, and other trail obstructions and even fend off aggressive dogs. Perhaps most important, it takes some weight off my feet, particularly when I lean heavily on it as I climb steep slopes. Experts claim that using trekking poles can take between 10 and 18 pounds off the lower body with each stride, which adds up to a lot of weight over a day. Of course it’s not a free ride—the strain is just moved to your arms and upper body, and you have to carry the weight of the poles. But sharing the effort does mean that my legs get less tired while my upper body and arms maintain their strength between ski seasons.

  Most experts recommend using two poles, and this is what I now mostly do. All the advantages of a staff are more than doubled when you use two. Walking with two poles uses the upper body muscles and takes much of the strain off the legs and hips. Using one pole takes the strain off only some of the time and can make you feel unbalanced. If I don’t swap the pole from hand to hand occasionally, I find that my shoulder starts to ache. On steep terrain, especially direct descents, you can always have three points of contact with the ground if you carry two poles, which gives much greater stability. When using two poles I can walk faster and farther before I begin to feel tired, and I no longer have aching knees at the end of days with long, steep descents. On long ascents, I can go faster with poles.

  My poles have other uses. During rest stops, they turn my pack into a backrest. In camp they can turn a fly-sheet door into an awning, support a wash line or tarp, and retrieve bear-bagged food.

  When I began using a pole, it made me an oddity and other hikers used to stare at me; when I began using two, some people avoided me altogether and others asked where my skis were. Now poles are more common, and you get fewer strange looks and odd comments. Some people really dislike them, though, and can get quite worked up about them, which baffles me, since they hardly intrude on anyone else. For most hikers they’re not essential, but if you suffer from sore knees, hips, or back, they can make a huge difference. They can also be useful if you hike infrequently. Demetri “Coup” Coupounas, president of GoLite, says, “[I find] dual poles very useful in allowing me to take on big-mileage days and weekends when I hike infrequently—the poles add so much stability in motion that I am not restricted to short, easy hikes when my ankles are not strengthened from frequent hiking on rough trails—i.e., gym fitness translates into trail fitness much more readily with dual poles than with none.”

  I also think a pole is a useful emergency item. If you injure a foot or leg, having a pole could make the difference between limping out of the back-country and having to be rescued. And of course, having a pole makes injuries less likely anyway, since it can prevent stumbles from turning into falls. There are a few disadvantages to poles; for instance, your hands aren’t free. But it’s easy to dangle the poles from your wrists by their straps if necessary.

  Materials and Designs

  The obvious material for a staff is wood, and it’s easy to find a suitable piece in any forest. As long as it’s reasonably straight, solid, and at least elbow height (so you can hold it with the lower arm at a right angle to the body, the most comfortable position), any strong stick will do. Many tourist stores in popular mountain areas sell wooden staffs, usually inexpensive. But you can’t always buy or find a staff when you reach an area, and wooden staffs aren’t easy to transport. You can’t put them in your pack, and they’re awkward to take on trains, buses, and planes.

  The answer to this problem is the adjustable metal staff. Derived from (and sometimes identical to) adjustable ski touring poles, these staffs are lighter than wooden sticks yet stronger and can be carried in or on a pack when not in use. Many alpine ski pole manufacturers began to make them once they noted that mountaineers and hikers in the Alps often used ski poles. Indeed, a ski pole makes a perfectly functional staff if you don’t need an adjustable one, and old ones are usually easy to find at any ski resort. Most poles are made from light aluminum; the lightest (and most expensive) are carbon fiber.

  Trekking poles, designed to be used in pairs, are far more common than staffs meant to be used singly. One of the few staff makers is Tracks (part of Cascade Designs, more noted for its sleeping mats), which makes several models. I’ve used its Sherlock staff for many years. This two-piece staff adjusts from 42.5 to 57.5 inches by means of a locking button that clips into holes in the shaft. The upper shaft is covered with soft foam topped by a wooden knob that you can remove to reveal a camera monopod mount. Rather than a sharp carbide tip, the Sherlock has a blunter steel point. It comes with a removable rubber tip too. Mine weighs 17.5 ounces; current models are 16.5 ounces. The Sherlite staff is the same model without the foam sheath, which cuts the weight to 15 ounces. I find the sheath, which is warm and soft, well worth 1.5 ounces.

  The Sherlock is fine when I use a staff, as I sometimes do with light loads and on day hikes, and when I don’t expect to have to carry it on my pack, as it’s a bit long for that. With heavier loads I usually use two trekking poles. These come in many models, and having tested quite a few, I can say confidently that there’s not much difference between mo
st of them. The ones I’ve used most are Komperdell Guides (20 ounces a pair, packed length 25 inches), because of the foam handles and the camera mounts on the top. Unfortunately these now come only with antishock springs, which I dislike (see page 86), though you can turn these off. Leki, Masters, Komperdell, Life-Link, Black Diamond, Garmont, Gabel, Tracks, MSR, and more all make a wide range of good models, and there are store-brand poles from places like REI, often made by Komperdell. Weights range from 14 to 32 ounces for a pair. Packed lengths range from 20 to 30 inches. The differences lie mostly in the handles and grips and the locking mechanisms. There are two-piece poles, but the packed length is quite long, so I prefer three-section ones, of which there are far more. Of course the more sections, the weaker the pole, at least in theory, but I’ve never broken a three-section pole.

  What can fail, though, is the locking mechanism. Most poles have a twist-lock adjustment with an internal adjustable, expanding section that locks and unlocks depending on the direction you twist the shaft. This is fine when it works, but it can slip or jam. To help minimize the chance of its happening, dismantle the poles after use and make sure they are dry before you reassemble them to prevent corrosion. Some expanders are all plastic, some are plastic and metal. The expanding section can be replaced if it starts to slip repeatedly, as can happen. I haven’t had serious failures with any of the poles I’ve used, but the most secure and strongest expanders look to be those from Masters and Leki. Most poles are circular. Life-Link poles, however, have oval sections, which are said to be more secure, since an oval can’t twist inside another oval the way two circles can. I use Life-Link Variant Carbon Fiber ski touring poles and have found them very secure. There are two alternatives to internal expanders. As I described previously, Tracks poles have locking buttons that can’t slip. Black Diamond poles have external adjustable cam locks called Flicklocks that have large levers that are easy to use when wearing gloves. All of these methods work, and I haven’t found any one to be superior to the others.

  For grips, cork, soft foam, or soft rubber is more comfortable than hard rubber or plastic, though there’s not a huge difference. I like poles with a long foam grip that I can hold lower down when I want a shorter length. I also like poles with a camera mount under a knob on the top, since poles make excellent monopods. Some poles have forward-angled grips that are meant to give a more relaxed wrist position.

  This design is taken to radical extremes in British-made Pacerpoles, which have molded thermoplastic-rubber grips, acutely angled, that are shaped for each hand. These enable you to transmit far more power through the poles, since the angle is “calculated for optimum range of arm leverage.” The grips are very comfortable, and the poles are a leap forward in design. They are the ones I use most now; they really do give me more power and take more weight off my legs than standard poles, especially on long climbs. They have only a short piece of cord as a security loop rather than a proper strap, which isn’t needed—you hold the poles loosely in your hands rather than letting the loops take the weight. The poles come in three sections with an internal locking mechanism. There is a soft neoprene sleeve on the upper section, and Pacerpoles is developing a camera mount that will fit on the grip. A pair of Pacerpoles weighs 23 ounces. For more information, see pacer poles.com. Pacerpoles are distributed in the United States by Ultralight Adventure Equipment (ula-equipment.com).

  The unique Pacerpoles handles.

  Many poles have an antishock device, a spring built into the handle or the shaft that gives slightly when weight is applied. Antishock mechanisms add weight, increase packed length, and raise the price, all to no advantage in my experience. I’ve tried hiking with an antishock pole in one hand and a regular pole in the other, and I’ve noticed no difference. Antishock is supposed to absorb the shock of pole placements so your arm doesn’t feel them, but my arms don’t ache or feel any more tired whether I use them or not. On many poles, antishock can be turned off. I’d rather not have it at all.

  Most poles come with small solid baskets. These are a hangover from skiing origins and aren’t really necessary. If you’re going to use your poles on snow, whether skiing or not, you do need to be able to fit large baskets to stop the poles from sinking in. Tip shafts are often synthetic and designed to break before the main shaft if they get caught in rocks, since they are cheaper and easier to replace. Some poles have blunt steel or alloy points, which are fine on everything except ice, but most have sharp carbide points. Poles can poke holes in trails and scratch rocks. I don’t think this is a big problem, but you can put rubber or plastic covers over the tips. These covers are quite durable; one set lasted me for a five-week hike on the hard, rocky terrain of the High Sierra.

  Using Poles

  To gain the most benefit from hiking poles, you need to use them properly. I’ve seen many people letting poles dangle limply from their hands, ineffectually waving them around, rendering them just about useless, or else gripping them tightly and stabbing the ground, which is a good way to tire your arms and doesn’t reap much benefit from the poles. Except with Pacerpoles, the straps should be used to support your hands and take the weight. To use the straps, put your hand up through the strap from below, then bring it down so the strap runs between the thumb and fingers and over the back of the hand. With the poles held like this, you can flick them back and forth without having to jerk your arms around or grasp them tightly. Place the poles by swinging one in front, placing the tip on the ground, pressing down on it, then walking past it while swinging the other pole forward. On even terrain you can get a good rhythm. You should feel the poles pushing you forward as you push down on them. On ascents you won’t get as much of a forward swing, but you can really push down on the poles to help propel you upward.

  To get the maximum benefit from poles, they need to be the right length. Many people use a pole that’s too long, which requires more effort and can make your arms and shoulders ache. For hiking on the flat and gentle slopes, poles should touch the ground when held pointing straight down with your elbow bent at a right angle. On steep ascents a shorter pole is better. You can slip your hands out of the loops and grasp the shaft lower down or adjust the poles to a shorter length. When descending steep ground, you can plant a longer pole below you for greater support. On long descents, adjusting the pole length might be worthwhile; otherwise you can lengthen a pole by placing your hand over the top of the grip. When traversing steep slopes, you can slip your hand out of the strap on the upper pole and grasp it lower down on the shaft so it doesn’t push you away from the slope. To make changing pole length quicker, you can adjust the lower section to its full length and then just alter the middle section when you want to change the length. Overall, though, it’s better to alter each section by the same amount, so that one section isn’t overloaded.

  How to hold a trekking pole. Put your hand up through the loop so you can pull down on the strap. You don’t need to grip the pole tightly.

  Holding the pole.

  ICE AXES

  Whenever you’re likely to encounter slopes of hard snow and ice, you need an ice ax. Winter might seem the obvious time to expect such terrain, but the snow then is often deep and soft. It’s in spring and early summer, after the surface of the snow has melted and refrozen, perhaps several times, that ice axes are most often needed. An ax may be needed well into July for hikes above the timberline in some areas, and I’ve had to seek out an alternative route as late as September when a steel-hard bank of old snow blocked the trail to a high pass.

  A trekking pole, very useful for balance in soft snow, is inadequate when crossing steep, hard-packed snow or ice. On such surfaces, a slip can easily become a rapidly accelerating slide. The only way to stop such a fall is by a method known as self-arrest, which requires an ice ax. For instruction, take a course in snow and ice skills at an outdoor center or learn from a competent friend. Cox and Fulsaas’s Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills is a useful source for all aspects of snow travel other th
an skiing, but I’m not convinced that self-arrest can be learned from a written description. Practice is essential; in a real fall you have to react immediately and automatically, and you must be able to stop yourself whether you fall on your front or your back and with your head uphill or downhill. On slopes where you may have to self-arrest, carry your ice ax with the pick pointing backward so it’s in position. On easier slopes I prefer to walk with the pick pointing forward so that if I stumble I won’t impale myself.

  BUT IT’S STILL SUMMER

  An unexpected early September blizzard had blanketed the mountains with fresh snow—deep, soft, and wet. I struggled up to the 11,900-foot Farview Pass in the Never Summer range in the Colorado Rockies with the aid of a thick stick I’d picked up in the forest below. I had no ice ax, and this was in the days before I carried a staff or hiking poles. It was also in the days before I discovered waterproof socks, and my feet, in running shoes, were quickly sodden and chilled. At the pass, where the view was all of 50 yards, I wiped the snow off a trail sign, then followed the directions down into the Parika Lake basin, where I camped in the slight shelter of some stunted spruce. Once in the tent, I stripped off my wet shoes and socks, pulled dry wool socks over my frozen feet, and slid into my sleeping bag. After several hot drinks and a steaming bowl of curry, my feet began to warm up. The temperature in the tent was a damp 40°F (5°C). Thankfully, the next day arrived with sunshine and a clear sky, and my feet felt only slightly cool as I followed the Continental Divide Trail across the snowy slopes of the White Cloud Peaks and into Rocky Mountain National Park.