Making camp when bugs are biting requires speed and a fair bit of teeth gritting. I pitch the tent as fast as possible, fill my water containers, get in the tent, close the fly sheet door, light a mosquito coil in the vestibule, and stay there until dawn. No-see-ums will enter by the thousands under a fly sheet if no coil is burning, so I set up a coil last thing at night, then sleep with the insect-netting inner door shut. By dawn the inner door is often black with hungry no-see-ums and the vestibule is swarming with them. I unzip a corner of the netting, stick my hand out, strike a match, and light the coil. Then I retreat and close the netting again. Within five minutes most of the insects will be gone or dead, and I can open the inner door and have breakfast in peace. I keep the coil burning until I leave the tent. The tent often becomes hot and stuffy and stinks of burnt coil, but it’s better than being bitten or having to eat breakfast while running around in circles, as I’ve seen others do. Even if you douse yourself with repellent, no-see-ums will make your skin and scalp itch maddeningly by crawling in your hair and over any exposed flesh, even though they won’t bite. You shouldn’t use repellent in bear country, of course, so a breezy kitchen site is a good idea. Otherwise you just have to be as quick as possible, perhaps making do with cold food and drink.
Ticks, which are arachnids, not insects, are usually no more than an unpleasant irritant, but they can transmit Rocky Mountain spotted fever (found mainly in the East, despite the name) and Lyme disease. Luckily, both can be cured with timely treatment. Symptoms of Rocky Mountain spotted fever, which include the sudden onset of fever, chills, severe headache and muscle ache, general fatigue, and a loss of appetite, begin to appear two to fourteen days after a bite. A rash will develop within two to five days, beginning first on wrists, hands, ankles, and feet. If untreated, the disease lasts for a couple of weeks and is fatal in 20 to 30 percent of cases, depending on one’s age.
Lyme disease also appears a few days to a few weeks after a bite and usually involves a circular red rash, though not always. It isn’t fatal, but if not treated it can recur years later and lead to bizarre symptoms and severe, crippling arthritis.
A more common, though less serious, tickborne illness is Colorado tick fever, which appears four to six days after the tick bite. Symptoms are fever, headache, chills, and aching. Your eyes may feel extra sensitive to light. The illness lasts, on and off, for about a week. There is no specific cure, but most victims recover completely.
If you are bitten by a tick and feel ill in the next three or four weeks, consult a doctor.
A sensible precaution is to check for ticks when you’re in areas where they occur (local knowledge is useful here) and when you’re walking in tick season, usually late spring and early summer. Ticks crawling on your body can be detached with tweezers (found on most Swiss Army Knives)—apply these to the skin around the tick not the tick itself so the head isn’t left in the flesh. Pull ticks straight out, along with a tiny bit of skin. Don’t twist or burn embedded ticks, because the mouthparts could remain in the wound and cause infection. Body searches usually locate most unattached ticks, though some ticks are no bigger than a pinhead. (Searches work better when two people “groom” each other.) Tick kits weighing a couple of ounces consist of a magnifier, curved tweezers, antiseptic swabs, and instructions. The Tick Nipper Tick Remover looks like a pair of plastic pliers and includes a 20x magnifier, while the Pro-Tick Remedy is made from steel. Both items weigh 0.5 ounce.
Ticks live in long grass and vegetation and attach themselves to you as you brush past. A tick then crawls about for a while, possibly for several hours, before biting and starting to suck blood. The bite is painless and doesn’t itch, which is why body searches are necessary. Long pants tucked into your socks or worn with gaiters protect against ticks. If your clothing is light colored it’s easier to spot the dark ticks crawling around on it.
To remove a tick, grasp it at the mouth end with fine tweezers or a tick removal tool. Tug gently outward until the tick lets go. A tick removal kit containing magnifier, curved tweezers, antiseptic swabs, and instructions can be handy.
Bee and wasp stings can be very painful. There are various remedies. Sting Eze is a liquid antihistamine in a 2-ounce bottle; antihistamines also come in tablet form. (Use antihistamines, however, only when there are signs of an allergic reaction, such as hives, wheezing, or facial swelling.) People who have adverse reactions to stings should carry an EpiPen containing epinephrine (a prescription medication) and inject this as soon as symptoms appear. Bees leave their stingers behind in the wound. A Sawyer Extractor suction pump (3.5 ounces) can be used to suck the stinger out of the skin, or you can scrape it out with a knife blade. A moist aspirin taped over the sting site is said to stop pain.
Sunscreen
Protecting your skin against sunburn is a necessity—sunburned shoulders are agony under a pack, and a peeling nose also can be very painful. In the long run, overexposure may increase the risk of skin cancer. To minimize burning, use sunscreen on exposed skin whenever you’re in sunlight, especially between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. when the sun is strongest. Don’t forget your feet if you’re wearing sandals without socks. Brimmed and peaked hats help shade your face and cut the need for sunscreen, as does long, tightly woven clothing.
All sunscreens have a sun protection factor (SPF); the higher the SPF, the more protection. SPFs of 15 and above are recommended, especially for high altitudes, where ultraviolet light (the part of the spectrum that burns) is stronger. UV light increases in intensity 4 percent for every 1,000 feet of altitude. I burn easily, so I apply a sunscreen of SPF 15 or higher several times a day. Snow reflects sunlight, so when crossing snow-fields protect all exposed skin, including that under your chin and around your nostrils. The best sunscreens are creamy rather than greasy and don’t wash off when you sweat—at least not quickly. They should protect against both UVA and UVB rays; both can damage the skin, though it’s the latter that cause sunburn. The skin is damaged long before it starts burning. Surveys suggest that most people don’t use enough sunscreen (independent surveys, not those sponsored by sunscreen makers). Apply it lavishly and often, starting a half-hour before you venture into the sun. Large bottles are the least expensive. Small amounts can be decanted into smaller containers with secure lids for carrying in the pack. Sunscreen has a shelf life of three to four years, so you don’t need to use it up quickly.
If you get sunburned, various creams and lotions will help reduce the suffering, but it’s best to avoid the problem in the first place. I don’t carry any sunburn treatment.
Lip Balm
Lips can suffer from the drying effects of the wind as well as from sunburn, and they can crack badly in very cold conditions. A tube of lip balm weighs less than an ounce yet can save days of pain.
Sunglasses
Most of the time I don’t wear sunglasses, except during snow travel, when they are essential to prevent corneal burning, a very painful condition known as snow blindness. This can occur even when the sun isn’t bright, as I learned on a day of thin mist in the Norwegian mountains. Because visibility was so poor and wearing sunglasses made it worse, I didn’t wear them but skied all day straining to see ahead. Although I didn’t suffer complete snow blindness, my eyes became sore and itchy; by evening I was seeing double, and my eyes were painful except when closed. Luckily it was the last day of my trip; otherwise I would have had to rest for at least a couple of days to let my eyes recover. It’s my guess that sunlight filtered through the fine mist and reflected off the snow. I should have worn sunglasses with amber or yellow lenses, since these improve definition in poor light, and I now always carry a pair.
The main requirement of sunglasses is that they cut out all ultraviolet light, which cheap ones may not do. Those designed for snow and high-altitude use should also cut out infrared light. Glass lenses are scratch resistant; polycarbonate lenses weigh less. Large lenses that curve around the eyes are best, since they give the most protection. Quality glasses include
Bollé, Vuarnet, Ray-Ban, Cébé, Julbo, Smith, Native Eyewear, and Oakley. For snow use, glacier-type glasses with side shields are best. They are essential at high altitudes. I have two pairs of glacier glasses, Julbo Sherpas (1 ounce) with gray lenses for bright light, and Bollé Crevasses (1.5 ounces) with amber lenses for hazy conditions. I always carry both pairs on trips in snow, both to deal with different conditions and because losing or breaking a pair could be serious. On summer hikes where I might encounter snow, pale sand, or rock, I carry the Sherpas with the side shields removed. I rarely wear them, however; I prefer a hat to shade my eyes.
If fogging is a problem there are antifogging products such as the Smith No Fog Cloth. I’ve never used these, but people who wear glasses all the time tell me they’re quite effective.
Keeping glasses on can be a problem, especially when skiing. The answer is a loop that goes around your head or neck. Glacier glasses usually come with these, but many sunglasses don’t. Various straps, such Croakies and Chums, slip over the earpieces. I’ve used Croakies, and they work well.
In severe blizzards and driving snow, goggles give more protection than glasses. For well over a decade I’ve had a pair of Scott ski goggles with amber double lenses, which improve visibility in haze. They weigh 4 ounces. The foam mesh vents above and below the lenses reduce fogging, though the goggles suffer this more than glacier glasses. A wide elasticized, adjustable headband plus thick, soft foam around the rim makes them comfortable to wear. For a few years I stopped carrying them, since I rarely used them. Then I had a horrendous descent down a steep ridge in strong winds and driving, stinging snow that kept blowing behind my glacier glasses so I couldn’t see. Every few minutes I had to stop and clear the glasses. Goggles would have made the descent quicker, safer, and more pleasant. Goggles can be worn over a hat or hood and pushed down around your neck when not needed, which is less risky than pushing them up on your forehead and having them fall off. Bollé, Jones, Cébé, Smith, and Scott all make good goggles.
Sanitation
All too often, every rock within a few hundred yards of a popular campsite sprouts ragged pink and white toilet paper around its edges. Aside from turning beautiful places into sordid outdoor privies, unthinking toilet siting and waste disposal create a health hazard—feces can pollute water sources. As a result, land-management agencies sometimes provide outhouses and deep toilet pits at popular destinations. Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the lower forty-eight states, has one on its summit.
Outhouse sign. Where there are outhouses you should always use them.
Outhouses are obtrusive and detract from the feeling of wilderness. Careful sanitation techniques can ensure that no more need be built. Good methods prevent water contamination, speed decomposition, and shield humans and animals from contact with waste.
To prevent water contamination, always site toilets at least 200 feet (70 paces) from any water. Heading uphill is usually a good way to achieve this. Look for somewhere comfortable to squat that is out of sight of trails, campsites, and anywhere people might see you. The best way to achieve rapid decomposition is to leave waste on the surface, where the sun and air soon break it down. But this isn’t a good idea in popular areas and is now not recommended anywhere. As well as being unsightly, it attracts insects and animals. Instead, dig small individual catholes 6 to 8 inches deep, in dark organic soil if possible, since this is rich in the bacteria that break down feces. After you’ve finished, break feces up with a stick and mix them with the soil—they decompose more quickly—then fill in the hole and camouflage it. Feces don’t decompose very rapidly in catholes, so where they are sited is important. Ideally they should be on a rise where water won’t flow and wash the feces downstream. A site that catches the sun is good too, since heat speeds up decomposition.
A pit toilet with a view.
You need a small trowel for digging catholes. I carry a 2-ounce orange plastic Coghlan’s Backpacker’s Trowel in a pack pocket. An alternative is the Eastman Outdoors Little Jon Shovel, which weighs 2.8 ounces and has a hollow handle that holds eighty-five sheets of toilet paper. These plastic trowels make digging catholes easy, but they can and do break, especially in rocky ground. Somewhat heavier at 6.5 ounces but much stronger is the U-Dig-It Stainless Steel Hand Shovel with folding handle.
Large groups should not dig big latrines unless there are limited cathole sites or the group is staying at a site for more than one night. The idea is to disperse rather than concentrate waste. If you do dig a latrine, it should be sited as for a cathole.
There remains the problem of toilet paper. I use a standard white roll with the cardboard tube removed—3.5 ounces. (Avoid colored paper because the dyes can pollute.) Although toilet paper seems fragile, it is amazingly resilient and shouldn’t be left to decorate the wilderness. You have two options—burning it or packing it out. The first should never be used when there is any fire risk, however minute. If you have a campfire, though, it makes sense to burn used toilet paper in it. Mostly you should pack it out in doubled plastic bags. In some areas where campfires are banned, such as Grand Canyon National Park, this is required. As long as the bags are kept sealed, used paper doesn’t smell. The paper should be disposed of in a toilet, the plastic bags in a garbage can. Women also should pack out used tampons unless they can be burned, which requires a very hot fire. If tampons are buried, animals will dig them up. More specific advice for women, plus a lot of good general advice on backcountry toilet practices, can be found in Kathleen Meyer’s humorous How to Shit in the Woods.
For those prepared to try them, natural alternatives to toilet paper include sand, grass, large leaves, and even snow. The last, I can assure you, is less unpleasant than it sounds.
Deep snow presents a problem. Digging a cathole just means the contents will appear on the surface when the snow melts. This is still the best method in little visited areas, however. It’s even more important to be sure catholes are sited where no one is likely to find them and in places where no one will camp, such as narrow ridge tops and thick bushes or stands of trees. In really remote areas feces can be left on the surface, since then they’ll start to decompose straightaway. In both cases check where water flows in the summer—by observation and from the map—and try to site your toilet well away from any creeks. In popular areas consider packing feces out. If they’re frozen, this is less unpleasant than it sounds. The Phillips Environmental Wag Bag, designed for the removal of feces, could make it more acceptable. This consists of a waste bag, a zip-closed storage bag, toilet paper, and hand sanitizer. The biodegradable waste bag is puncture proof and contains an environmentally friendly gelling agent with the wonderful name of Pooh-Powder that turns feces into a stable gel.
Urination is a matter of less concern. Urine is sterile, so it doesn’t matter too much where you pee. However, the salts in urine may attract animals, so it’s best to pee on bare ground rather than vegetation that could be damaged by animals’ licking the salt off the leaves. In snow urine leaves unsightly yellow stains that should be covered up.
The only time urination becomes a problem is when you wake in the middle of a cold, stormy night and are faced with crawling out of your sleeping bag, donning clothes, and venturing out into the wet and wind. The answer is to pee into a wide-mouthed plastic bottle. With practice, men can do this easily. I use a cheap plastic pint bottle (2 ounces) with a green screw top that clearly distinguishes it from my water bottles. I’ve marked it with a large letter P as well. I carry it mainly in winter and spring. A pee bottle could also be useful in summer when biting insects are around, since otherwise you’d have to get dressed before leaving the tent. (Not to do so is to invite disaster. On a course I led, a student left his tent one night clad in just a T-shirt, despite warnings. He was out less than a minute, but in the morning he emerged covered with no-see-um bites from the waist down.)
For women pee bottles clearly present problems. Two devices may help. The Lady J Adapter fits into the mouth of a shaped
bottle called the Little John Portable Urinal and can be used in a tent. An alternative is Sani-fem’s Freshette, a close-fitting plastic funnel with attached tube that can be used with any bottle.
EQUIPMENT MAINTENANCE AND REPAIR
It’s an unusual trip when something doesn’t need repairing, or at least tinkering with, so I always carry a small repair kit in a stuff sack. Although the contents vary from trip to trip, the weight hovers around 4 ounces. Repair kits for specific items such as the stove and the Therm-a-Rest travel in this bag.
The most-used item in the kit is the waterproof, adhesive-backed ripstop nylon tape, which patches everything from clothing to fly sheets. You can buy this in rolls, but I prefer the strips that come stapled to a card. Most types have four to six different colored strips of nylon, measure 3 by 9 inches, and weigh about an ounce. There are several brands, including Kenyon and Coghlan’s. When applying a patch, round the edges so it won’t peel off, and patch both sides of the hole if possible. Patches can be reinforced with adhesive around the edges. I carry a small tube of seam sealant or epoxy for this purpose, or I use the glue that comes with the Therm-a-Rest repair kit.
WOLVES
The river is a half mile or so away. I set off toward it to collect water as dusk falls. In the middle of an expansive meadow I suddenly sense that I am watched. Looking toward the forest, I freeze with a mixture of awe, excitement, and fear. A few hundred yards away, on the fringe of the timber, a pack of wolves is watching me. I count six, some of them pale gray, others almost black. After a few seconds they begin to move off slowly in single file, one of them always stationary, watching. When that one falls to the rear another stops, and the pack continues. Eventually they disappear. I do not know how long I have been holding my breath.
Chris Townsend Page 50
