With the rest of Colorado to cross in the next few weeks, however, I needed more than running shoes and a stick. In the little mountain resort of Grand Lake, I did a round of the stores. But it was still summer, and no one stocked gaiters or ice axes. (Outside, the mountains shone white with new snow.) They had boots, of course, and I continued my walk in a sturdy pair of midweight leather Pivettas, good for stomping steps in snow. But it was nineteen days and 320 miles of snowy trails later before I finally managed to find gaiters and an ice ax in the town of Creede—just in time to deal with a blizzard in the San Juans. The lesson from this is to have items I might need mailed ahead just in case. I can always send them on if they aren’t required.
Using ice axes to safeguard a steep descent on hard snow.
Ice axes also can be used to cut steps in ice and snow too hard to kick your boots into (though wearing crampons makes this unnecessary) and can replace a staff for balance on snow. If you do slip, thrusting the ax shaft into the snow will often prevent you from sliding down the slope. Other things I’ve found an ice ax useful for include pulling stakes out of frozen ground or hardpacked snow, chopping holes in frozen streams or ponds to get water, chipping ice off rocks so you can stand on them without slipping when fording streams, and digging toilet holes.
An ice ax. Always carry an ice ax and crampons if you’re likely to encounter steep, snowy areas or ice.
Ice axes come in many complicated and even bizarre styles; most are specialty designs for climbing frozen waterfalls and iced-up vertical cliffs. All a backpacker needs is a simple, traditional ice ax, usually described as a “walking” or “general mountaineering” ax. The head should have a wide adze, useful for cutting steps and possibly for self-arrest in soft snow, and a gently curved pick with a few teeth at the end. Two-piece heads are perfectly adequate for walking use. They may be made from steel (strong but quite heavy), titanium (strong and light but expensive), or aluminum (light but not so strong and easily blunted). Shafts are normally aluminum, which is strong enough for most uses. Titanium shafts, found on a few axes, are stronger but expensive. Metal shafts are cold to touch and slippery when damp. Some form of tape or a rubberized sheath makes the shaft warmer and gives you a better grip. It shouldn’t be very thick, though, or it can impede the shaft when you thrust it into the snow. A wrist loop is useful and worth attaching if your ax doesn’t come with one. Length is a matter of debate; I like an ax whose spike is a half-inch or so off the ground when I hold the ax by my side with my arm hanging down. An ax this length will touch the snow on gentle slopes, which is good for security. On steeper slopes the shaft can be pushed into the snow, also good for security. On descents, it’s easier to place a longer ax down the slope ahead of you without crouching or leaning forward. Climbers, who are used to being on very steep, icy slopes, often prefer shorter axes.
Axes weigh from 7 to 28 ounces. The lightest models are adequate for backpacking. Makes to look for include Climb High, Cassin, Salewa, Stubai, SMC, Mountain Technology, Petzl Moser, Omega Pacific, Camp, Stanley Alpine, Grivel, and Black Diamond. Since I don’t do any alpine mountaineering or technical climbing, I don’t need an ax designed for these pursuits; and since my ax spends most of its time strapped to my pack, weight is more important than technical design. For many years now I have used a 70-centimeter Camp HL250 ax that weighs just 12 ounces. It has a head made from alloy rather than steel and isn’t suitable for serious climbing—it even has “not for ice climbing” stamped on the pick—but for backpacking it’s fine.
Ice axes are potentially dangerous implements and require care both in use and when being carried. Rubber head and spike protectors are useful when transporting the ax to and from the mountains—a wine bottle cork will do to cover the spike, and cardboard or foam can be wrapped around the head if necessary. On planes, trains, and buses I pack the ax inside my pack or duffel bag with the head and spike covered (on planes, the ax must be in your checked baggage).
CRAMPONS
If conditions warrant carrying an ice ax, crampons will probably be useful as well. These metal spikes strap or clamp onto the soles of your boots so you can cross ice and hard snow without slipping. I rarely use them, but when I do they are essential, so I carry them on any trips where ice or hard snow is likely. Flexible crampons—ones with a hinge or a sprung bar in the middle—can be fitted to most hiking boots, and some will fit trail shoes. Rigid crampons are strictly for climbers and rigid-soled boots.
The number of points on a crampon doesn’t matter much for walkers; there are eight-, nine-, ten-, and twelve-point models. Points that angle out from the front of the boot are useful for climbing steep slopes because you can use your boot toes. I prefer crampons with angled front points to those with vertical points.
Crampons are usually made from steel, which is strong and stays sharp, though the lightest models are made from an aluminum alloy, which blunts quickly but is all right for occasional hiking use, and titanium, which holds an edge better but is expensive. For most backpacking use, aluminum is fine. Weights for crampons range from 16 ounces to more than 2 pounds.
Crampons are needed for hiking on ice and hard snow. They need to be fitted properly. Charlet Moser (now Petzl Charlet) articulated 12-point crampon.
Fitting crampons to boots is a complicated business the first time, and finding the right size can be difficult. First-time buyers should take their boots to the store and have the salesperson demonstrate how to fit them. A properly fitted crampon shouldn’t fall off when you pick up the boot and shake it with the crampon straps unfastened.
Crampons attach to boots by various methods; some are much easier to use than others, especially with cold fingers. Awkward systems may mean you don’t bother to put the crampons on when you should or that you don’t fit them properly, both of which can be dangerous. Practice attaching crampons until you can do it quickly. A blizzard isn’t the place to work out what goes where.
The easiest system is the step-in with a wire bail at the front and a heel lever at the back. Unfortunately, these require boots with a pronounced lip at the heel and toe, which few hiking boots have anymore. Old-fashioned leather boots with external stitched seams and modern plastic climbing boots will take these crampons. To minimize the chance of the front bail’s coming off, these crampons should have a strap linking the toe and heel pieces.
Almost as easy to fit are crampons with flexible plastic cradles at the front and back that wrap around the boot when tensioned with a single strap that runs from the heel to the front cradle and then back to a buckle at the rear. This is the system I prefer, since it will fit most hiking boots. Traditional systems use sets of straps. There are many variations of these. A common one has an O-ring linked by straps to the front of the crampons and a long strap at the heel that runs through this ring and then back to the heel. There are also mixtures of systems with O-rings and straps at the front and heel levers or cradles at the back.
The companies that make ice axes usually make crampons as well. For several years, when I’ve expected to need crampons for long periods I’ve used Grivel G10s, flexible ten-point steel crampons with plastic cradles that make them easy to attach to hiking boots. They’re somewhat heavy at 29 ounces, though, and since I got them, Grivel has introduced an alloy version, the G10 Light, that weighs 23.7 ounces. However, for occasional use, which is most of the time, I use 21-ounce, twelve-point Salewa Alunal crampons with plastic cradles. If you want more strength and sharpness, the same design at the same weight in titanium is sold under the name Titan Ultra Walk. Some alloy crampons are even lighter than the Alunals, such as the 17-ounce, twelve-point Camp LCs, which unfortunately come only with step-in bindings, and the 20-ounce, twelve-point Stubai Ultralights, which have nylon cradles.
Like ice axes, crampons can be dangerous, so if you strap them to the outside of your pack, you should cover the spikes with rubber protectors. The tangled rubber strands of these protectors can be a big nuisance, however; I long ago abandoned them
and instead carry crampons inside the pack in a tough Cordura nylon pouch. The pouch I use hasn’t been sold for years, but Outdoor Research makes a very similar one, the 11-ounce Crampon Pouch, which can be attached to the pack or carried inside. You can also wrap crampons in a length of tough cloth such as heavy-duty canvas, neoprene, or PVC. Some packs come with a pocket on the front designed to hold crampons.
A ten-point flexible crampon.
Walking in crampons involves a change in gait and special techniques on steep slopes. You must take care not to catch the points on your pants or gaiters or the other crampon, so you need to spread your legs slightly wider than usual. On gentle slopes you need to keep your feet flat on the snow or ice so that all the points bite. On steep slopes you can kick just the front points into the snow and walk up on your toes, though this is tiring and difficult in flexible boots. I find the least tiring way to climb moderately steep ground is to front-point with one foot while keeping the other flat on the ground, alternating feet as they start to ache. If you’re going to venture onto really steep terrain, I suggest you take a mountaineering course.
SKIS AND SNOWSHOES
Walking through snow more than ankle deep can be very difficult; once you sink up to your shins and deeper, it becomes an exhausting and slow process, aptly known as postholing. The Scandinavians answered the problem some four thousand years ago: strap something to your feet that spreads your weight and allows you to ride on the snow’s surface. After years of slogging through soft, wet snow, I discovered this for myself when I traveled with three hikers who used snowshoes in the San Bernardino Mountains on the Pacific Crest Trail in California. I bought a pair to use in the snowbound High Sierra, but then I watched enviously as two in our party swapped snowshoes for Nordic skis, swooped down snowfields, and slid through the forest, leaving the two of us on snowshoes to plod along in their wake. I became determined to learn to ski.
Snowshoes have their uses, though. They are more maneuverable than skis in thick forest, and the largest ones will keep you on the surface of deep, powdery snow, which the widest skis will sink into. You also can use them with ordinary walking boots. And it’s much easier to learn to snowshoe than to ski. You can still get traditional wooden snowshoes, but they’re heavy and need careful maintenance. Better and far more common are the more durable aluminum-framed ones with synthetic decking and pivoting bindings. The ones I used in the Sierra were Sherpa Featherweight Sno-Claw models that weighed a little more than 3 pounds with straps. The Sno-Claw, a serrated edge that fits under the boot for grip on icy slopes, worked well on moderate slopes, but I changed to crampons for the steep slopes. Since I learned to ski a year later, I didn’t use snowshoes again for many years. However, a few years ago I did get a new pair, which I’ve been using in the local woods where skis would be awkward to handle. My current shoes are the Baldas Matterhorn Treks, which have a metal frame with polypropylene decking, a pivoting binding with spikes, and an optional extension called a spatula. They measure 9 by 20.5 inches, weigh 4.5 pounds, and are designed to support more than 240 pounds. I’ve used them in moderate terrain with light loads, and for this they are fine. If I’d had them instead of the Sherpas for the hike through the High Sierra, I imagine they would have performed just as well.
Walking in snowshoes is slow work compared with skiing but far easier than walking in deep snow without them. Snowshoes have become popular for winter recreation, and there are now several good models with weights from 2 pounds upward. Besides Baldas and Sherpa, well-regarded brands include Atlas, Tubbs, Northern Lites, Red-feather, and Yuba. There are several books on the subject, of which the classic is Snowshoeing, by Gene Prater, now in its fifth edition.
I abandoned snowshoes for many years because skiing looked like more fun. Snowshoeing seemed functional but tedious by comparison. Crossing the High Sierra in May with a 100-pound pack was not the time to learn to ski, however. The next winter I took a Nordic ski course and have since been on ski backpacking trips most years in places as far afield as the High Sierra, Greenland, Spits-bergen (which lies in the Arctic Ocean north of Norway), the Yukon, the Alps, Lapland (in Arctic Scandinavia), the Norwegian mountains, and the Canadian Rockies. For nine seasons I worked as a ski touring leader, based in Norway.
Ski backpacking is the ideal way to explore the wilderness in winter and spring. Sarek National Park, Arctic Lapland, Sweden.
Skiing is a complex subject. Alpine (downhill) skis are strictly for lift-served skiing and ultrasteep mountain descents. Even with alpine ski mountaineering bindings and boots, progress on the flat and uphill is painfully slow, and the weight of the gear is tiring. These skis are worth considering only if your aim is a long, steep descent. For most snow backpacking, they are unsuitable. The same applies to the heaviest telemark gear, which is again designed for resort skiing and steep descents. The lightest telemark gear is suitable for touring, however, especially in mountainous terrain. At the other extreme, light, skinny cross-country skis are designed for cut tracks and don’t have much flotation or stability in untracked snow.
The best skis for ski backpacking are variously called Nordic, backcountry, or mountain touring skis. For carrying a heavy load and breaking trail in snow that ranges from deep powder to breakable crust, skis with metal edges are best. All skis are narrower at the waist than at the tip and tail. The difference between the waist and the tip is called the sidecut. More sidecut means a ski that is easier to turn going downhill, which is good for mountain skiing. I used to look for about 8 to 10 millimeters of sidecut, but this is now very little, since there has been a revolution in ski design and there are now many wide touring skis with plenty of sidecut. My current mountain touring skis, Tua Hydrogens, have 30 millimeters of sidecut and measure 102-72-92 millimeters, tip to tail yet, at 5.5 pounds, weigh no more than my old narrow skis, which measured 62-54-58 millimeters. The advantage of wide skis is in soft snow, where they have better flotation than narrow ones.
Whatever the skis, you need strong bindings, either cables or bindings with three pins that fit into the toe of your boots, since they’ll have to undergo the stress caused by your body weight plus a heavy pack. Touring bindings haven’t changed much over the past few decades; they’ve just become stronger. Boots have changed, however, and plastic has taken over. At first this was just for lift telemark skiing and steep mountain descents, and the boots were too stiff and heavy for ski backpacking, but now you can get excellent plastic touring boots from Scarpa, Garmont, and Crispi. I use Garmont Xcursions, which weigh 6 pounds. The plastic shell keeps my feet dry in wet spring snow while the inners make good hut and tent boots.
Poles are essential with skis (and a great help with snowshoes). Since lightweight fiberglass poles break easily (my first pair of poles shattered within a week), I use a metal pair. I like adjustable ones (long for the flat, shorter for uphill, shortest for downhill). There are many models—see the discussion of hiking poles earlier in this chapter (pages 83–88).
Climbing skins are long strips of “grippy” fabric that attach to the bottom of your skis. They make ascents much easier and are a worthwhile investment for mountain ski tours.
You need only moderate skill to travel the wilderness on skis, and the enjoyment of ski touring far outweighs the effort required. Beginners will benefit from a course at a ski school; I did. For more specifics on wilderness touring there are several good books, including Allen O’Bannon and Mike Clelland’s entertaining Allen and Mike’s Really Cool Backcountry Ski Book. For skiing skills I also like their Really Cool Telemark Tips. The classic book on skills is Paul Parker’s superb Free-Heel Skiing.
chapter four
carrying the load the pack
WITH HIS PACK BULGING AND STUFF SACKS STRAPPED ON TOP OR HANGING BELOW, HE GRUNTS ALONG, SWEAT POURING FROM HIS OVERWORKED BODY. MAYBE YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU, BUT THIS FELLOW WILL OBVIOUSLY TRY.
—Backwoods Ethics, Laura and Guy Waterman
The heart of the backpacker’s equipment
is the pack. Tents, boots, stoves, and rain gear may be unnecessary at some times and places, but your pack is always with you. It must hold everything you need for many days’ wilderness travel yet still be as small a burden as possible.
Ever since aluminum frames and hipbelts were introduced in the 1940s and 1950s, designers have tried to make carrying loads as comfortable as possible. Internal and external frames, adjustable back systems, sternum straps, load-lifter straps, side tension straps, triple-density padded hipbelts, lumbar pads—the modern pack suspension is a complex structure that requires careful fitting. Only your footwear is as important to your comfort as your pack, so take the time to find a pack that fits.
The last decade of the twentieth century saw a huge change in pack design—a revolution even, though I’m wary of that word—with the advent of lightweight and ultralight packs weighing a small fraction of the weight of earlier packs. This shook up the pack world, and established makers scrambled to produce their own lightweight designs. Except for long cold-weather trips, there’s now no need to carry a pack weighing even half what standard packs used to weigh. An added bonus is that these lightweight packs are usually less expensive than heavier ones.
WALKING BEFORE DAWN
Under a soft gray light, mountaintops lie black and brooding, draped in pale, wraithlike clouds. The last stars still shine in a dark sky, though far to the east a faint tinge of pink spreads along the horizon. As the light strengthens, the dark lines of peaks beyond the flat lake stand out as if etched onto the sky. The pink intensifies into red and orange, then a spot on the horizon darkens and flares; a shaft of light rushes from it, cutting the air. The spot becomes an arc, a bright curve that slowly edges above the horizon, turning into a hot white orb, the sun. The reeds on the tiny islet out in the lake are transformed from black shadows to green life. I must turn my eyes from the brightness.
Chris Townsend Page 14
