Seven Million Steps on the CDT

Seven Million Steps on the CDT by Jonathan "Willis Whoa" Jarvis
JWJ author's note: this account of my thru-hike of the Continental Divide Trail in 1999 was first published in the ALDHAW Distance Hiker's Gazette in two parts: Spring 2000 and Summer 2000. The Fall 1999 issue (Vol 4 #3) also contained a letter from that hike about 44 uses for a bandana. I have compiled the three parts here into one. -- Willis Jarvis, August 2002, Mineral Wells, Texas. [Update February 2011, Pullman, Washington: two preliminary letters sent to the Gazette mail bag on 12/1/98 and 2/2/99 have also been recovered, see PDF link below -- JW] ALDHAW editor's note: The following is the editor's compilation of e-mail notes which Willis sent during his 1999 CDT journey. Rather than a straight narrative of events, they reflect the necessary changes in logistics and mindset over a 6 month period of time, both requisites for a successful hike. For these reasons they are presented relatively unedited, but with Willis' review, approval and additions prior to publication. Let's hope we can get him to the next Gathering! December 1, 1998 and February 2, 1999 Two letters written to the ALDHAW Gazette dated 12/1/98 and 2/2/99 from Lukeville, Arizona, before starting my hike, concerning preliminary trip plans and the choice of my trail name Willis Whoa, were published in the Distance Hiker's Gazette Vol 4 #1 1999, Mail Bag page 5. This issue is no longer available online but has been recovered as a PDF file here. February 15, 1999 On the advice of experienced CDT hikers, and on conversations with family, and on considering the problems of a northbound crossing of Colorado in June (rain and snow), I decided to change my CDT thru-hike to a CDT flip-flop with a twist. Starting just a few weeks from now I will set out from my winter camp in the Sonora desert near Organ Pipe National Monument, walk across the Papago and Apache lands of southern Arizona, including the site of Geronimo's surrender, to intercept the Divide in New Mexico. Then, after a possible quick detour to the Sierra Tarahumara in Chihuahua, I will wander up the Divide to reach the Colorado border in early June. My revised itinerary then calls for a flip-flop up to Glacier Park to join a southbound convoy. The safety of numbers in a convoy will defend against the twin dangers of grizzly bears and spring runoff stream crossings. South of the Bob Marshall and Scapegoat Wildernesses, I will throttle down into my personal travel mode of solitary early-morning departures, long midday rests, late afternoon walking into twilight and stealth camping. In July/August my nephew may join me for a stretch of Wyoming/Colorado, but in this revised scenario, a slowdown to accommodate a novice hiker will not be a problem. Time works in favor of a southbound CDT hiker. No longer under pressure to cross the northern passes before winter?s advance, a southbound hiker can linger on the high Colorado trails well into September, leaping lightly over the flowers. March 17, 1999 On my way to meet the CDT in New Mexico, I reached the remote Arizona border post of Sasabe after walking across the Papago Indian Reservation from Lukeville in 6.5 days, a moderate pace, in windy weather forecasting rain. As I woke up the following morning on a grassy slope near the border gate, my down bag was wet with dew and I saw rain coming in from the west. Nothing beats the threat of rain to get one up and moving, not even the roar of wild animals. Rain is an implacable natural force which can not be talked down like a bear or a skunk. So I packed up fast and hurried over to the gate. On the Mexican side, a guard welcomed me with coffee and cake while the storm broke. He told me about a van coming up from Caborca which could take me back down, so I decided to rest up in a hotel room to get over a nagging cold. The other passengers in the van were six illegals from Sinaloa who were turned back at the border. They were going to try again at Organ Pipe. They listened with interest as I explained how to cross a desert without much water, by avoiding heavy food and alcohol, by resting in shade at midday, and by walking all night to keep warm. In Caborca I was pleasantly surprised to find Internet access in the TELMEX building, just like in Tepic last winter. My walk across the Papago Reservation was an experience of great open space and solitude. For as long as two days at a time I saw no one nor heard any vehicle except an occasional sonic boom. The Indians have abandoned their land. The old trails have disintegrated beyond recognition. When Tucson pumped the water table down, the wells dried up. Now the Papagos subsist on government subsidies and their Tucson casino, leaving the back country to coyotes and birds. The hardest thing about the Papago hike was not the physical stress, although a nagging cold lingered on and the narrow leather strap of my huaraches cut into my heels, nor was it the fences of thorny mesquite trees lining the dry washes, so destructive of soft clothing that it is necessary to remove pants and jacket to slip through. The worst part was to feel lost in a vast plain without water. I was following my compass carefully, triangulating recognizable mountain peaks, even correcting for magnetic declination. In retrospect, I should have trusted my compass more by setting a direct course to hit the Papago Farms water tank, instead of aiming for a road line. Doubts arose because of not finding any of the roads printed on the BLM topo map. Little did I realize then that the Papago had abandoned their land. Actually I was sailing through Papago Farms without a clue. In a crisis of confidence, in the late afternoon I veered due south towards a line of tall green trees in the far distance. At sunset I stumbled upon a barbed wire fence line flanked by a dirt road, straight as an arrow bearing 20 degrees south of east, unmistakably the international boundary. Then the following afternoon a border patrol agent gave me a miraculous gift of two precious gallons of water, saving me from having to make an exit south of the line into unmapped White Land. Heeding the snow warnings of Jim Owen and Bob Ellinwood, I?ll probably flip-flop to Rawlins from Cuba instead of Chama, to return later. As for the Wind River Range, maybe stall a few weeks in Wyoming. In summary, this first leg of my CDT 99 hike was a good introduction to navigating cross-country by compass. I learned to trust my instrument. I learned that my huaraches should probably be replaced by running shoes and that it might be time to replace my down bag with a synthetic one more resistant to wet weather. The walk established a foundation broad enough to support a tower 3,500 miles high, which, however, will be climbed one step at a time, all 7 million of them. April 6, 1999 Nine days out of Tombstone, I have reached Hachita, NM, first mail stop northbound on the CDT. ?A necessary and sufficient condition for a life to become an adventure is to tell someone about it? (Jean Paul Sartre). I am not sure if I want my life to become an adventure. I might wish it to become nothing at all, to evaporate like an evening mist to reveal a star-spangled heaven beyond. The problem with progress reports is that the mind gets caught up in a thicket of word symbols, when it might be better for spiritual practice, for example, to focus on breath awareness. So this might be my last CDT progress report for a while, but a milestone has been reached. My CDT northbound hike proper is underway, after a 25 day preliminary walk across southern Arizona from Organ Pipe National Monument to Antelope Wells, NM, via the Papago Reservation, Sasabe, Nogales, Sierra Vista, Tombstone, Apache, Geronimo's Surrender Site and the Animas Valley (Gray Ranch). Worst problem: Chronic shortage of water everywhere. Ironically my water purifier was seldom used, and for its weight and volume may not be carried much farther. Alternatives are boiling water, treating with iodine, or for Giardia taking metronidazole bought over the counter in Mexico. Worst moment: Staring at the black bore of an insolent gun while seeking water on "No Trespassing" private property. Best moment: Receiving two gallons of water from Joe Papas, US Border Patrol, when lost south of Papago Farms. Also reaching gentle San Luis Pass on the Continental Divide under clearing skies, following a shivering morning of sleet and cutting wind. Some comments about Antelope Wells: Having done the 45 mile walk from Antelope Wells to Hachita, I can compare it with the alternative CDT route Columbus-Deming, favored by Jim Wolf of the CDTS. Like Jim, all things considered, I agree the Columbus-Palomas terminus might be better. True, Antelope Wells is closer to the Divide, but it is not ON the Divide. The Divide is owned by the Gray Ranch which has put up large white ?No Trespassing Private Road? signs all around its vast perimeter. Antelope Wells-El Berrendo is difficult to access, although a long hitchhike up from the Agua Prieta-Janos highway is may be possible or ferry service by Mr. Pat Harris of the Hachita Egg Nest (theeggnest@vtc.net) might be available sometime. The region is so remote that the Antelope Wells - Animas school bus route happens to be the longest in the United States. In fact the state of New Mexico pays parents a gas mileage allowance to drive their kids to the nearest bus stop. The lonely 45 mile hike past zebra-striped Big Hatchet Mountain on coarsely paved straight highway may be too tedious for weary south bounders who have already seen it all. The clincher: Antelope Wells/El Berrendo has no services of any kind except a water faucet, whereas Palomas has some tasty restaurants, and after all, a Continental Divide hike warrants some celebration. April 28, 1999 Approaching Grants from Pie Town, I threaded the strange, claustrophobic maze of the black glassy Malpais lava fields. It was uncomfortable but more interesting than shortcutting along the Interstate. Afternoon winds bedeviled my hike up from Chihuahua almost every day. My rest and resupply in Albuquerque is now complete; I found a pair of 9EEEE New Balance shoes. Back to Grants tomorrow, $11 on Greyhound. My intent to combine sitting meditation with walking has not worked out yet; instead I find myself just pushing on ahead all day long. So essentially my entire hike is a walking meditation so far. The way or style of doing this hike is important to me. Still looking for the groove. May 5, 1999 This message is from the Cuba public library, where I am waiting for a bus later today to ABQ, then up to Denver, a city I would like to explore for a few days. My hike this early in the year has been windy and cold, but at least (fewer) problems with water. The wind has kept the many windmills pumping furiously, frequently spurting or gushing pure water from pipe to tank. My canteens froze solid on Reed Mountain (10K feet). Most of NM has been a road walk, but the winding CDT in the Gila National Forest and Wilderness would take at least two weeks to do it justice, with resupply stops in Quemado or Apache Junction or Winston. Pie Town has no groceries but delicious pies and milk, 5 days a week. The pink road south of Torreon has to be seen to be believed; it is straight out of Oz. If you head for Antelope Wells instead of Columbus, don?t miss the Carter House youth hostel in Silver City, the best one I have ever stayed at. Someone donated a carton of colored Easter eggs to the community refrigerator; I must have eaten 10 eggs in two days, delicious with salt and pepper. The subject of food seems to be coming up more often. May 6, 1999 Today finds me at the Albuquerque public library. Tonight or probably tomorrow night I plan to take a Mexican bus up to Denver, before resuming my northbound hike from Rawlins. Every day on this hike has been different: I haven?t been able to watch a rose grow in my sister Jane's backyard. Changes happen slowly. Take watching clouds, for example. I don'' usually have time to watch them, because while walking my eyes are focused on the path, and seldom do I stop moving. For various reasons such as water supply or food supply or inclement weather, there has not been much leisure time so far on this CDT hike, unlike my winter stays in the desert. But if I do stop to watch a cloud (another more apt example might be the changing profile of a mountain range which I might be approaching), I don't see the changes happening until I look again after an interval. So it is that we don't notice our lives getting older. Change is around us all of the time, but we don't notice it. May 7, 1999 Albuquerque Route 66 Hostel, 1012 Central Ave. SW (about 5 blocks west of downtown Greyhound station) $13 dorm, lots of free food and science fiction paperbacks, no daily lockout. Express Inn, 1040 Central $24 for luxury splurge, 64 channels cable TV, phone in room, etc. Souper!Salad! all you can eat salad bar $4.09, 1 block SW of University Campus on Central Ave. Public library, downtown Copper & 5th St., one Internet access terminal, 1-hr signup sheet. Better yet: TVI Community College on University Ave. south of Coal St. Max Salazar 3 story brown brick building on east side of University Ave, computer lab, about 20 fast computer terminals, no questions asked, just look like a scruffy college student, plop down at any terminal and act like you know what you are doing. Silver City Internet access at U of NM, but extremely slow. However, the Carter House Hostel should not be missed, one of the best, about $15. Grants Home fries with brown gravy $2.50 at the Uranium Cafe. The Smiths supermarket at Lobo Canyon does NOT have an in store bakery, but blueberry muffins and whole milk is a good substitute. Wave to the prisoners in the Lobo Canyon penitentiary. Pie Town Home-made pie $2.50 at the only cafe, open Wed - Sun, but no groceries. May 27, 1999 Pinedale, Wyoming. Nearly launched a raft into the spring snow melt torrent of the Sweetwater River, but had the good sense to find another way around (a 20 mile walk to a bridge). The heavy snowfall in the Wind River and the Tetons has prevented me from hiking the higher CDT route. Snow is 167% of normal and will not melt for another month, according to the Jackson National Forest ranger office. Maybe some back roads will take me north instead. The target dates which I hope to make are: 6/13/99 Macks Inn, ID, 8/05 Rawlins, WY (starting Colorado southbound) and 10/01 Cuba, NM end of hike. July 12, 1999 Anaconda, MT With the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness behind me, only three more supply stops remain to reach the Canadian border in about a month: Lincoln, Benchmark Ranch near the Bob Marshall Wilderness and East Glacier Park. A non-refundable bus ticket from Shelby to Rawlins, WY has been bought for August 10, so now there is some extra pressure to complete the schedule on time. Just another 'excuse' not to whoa-down; actually the dream of doing this hike in a leisurely manner evaporated long ago. It's not that I walk particularly fast, it is just that I keep on going, and long summer days provide plenty of room for going, adding up to about 20 miles per day. My groove has become a treadmill. Meeting southbound Bush and Julian [Wheat], both from Alpine, Texas, on Rainbow Pass in the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness on 7/09 was my first encounter with other CDT hikers since starting from Arizona four months ago. It was wonderful to set our packs down and visit on the trail, especially after we moved from chilly shadow into warm sunlight. I hope our paths cross again in Colorado. Maybe they will have shed some of their impressive pack weight by then, a burden impossible for my old body to manage (20 pounds gear plus 15 pounds for 9 days food plus 6 pounds for three liters of water is my maximum load). However, I would have liked to borrow one of their ice axes for a frightening snow traverse above a rocky cliff at Storm King Pass. They told me their ice axes had saved their lives. To my regret I missed meeting Jim and Ginny Owen after waiting for them three nights in mosquito-filled Wisdom, WY. They were delayed by the snow which still hadn't fully melted, hard as it may be to imagine for flatlanders from the south. (Ed. Note: Jim and Ginny completed their southbound CDT hike and later met with Willis in Lukeville, AZ in December.) August 4, 1999 Greetings from Western Montana College, Dillon, Montana, where I am now on my way back to Rawlins WY to complete the Colorado gap of my thru-CDT hike 99. I reached the Canadian border on August 02 at Chief Mountain Port of Entry in Glacier National Park. While hiking up the Scapegoat Wilderness recently, approaching one evening Wisdom Pass, I came upon the camp of CDT south bounders Bill Gurwell and William Emerson. We met and talked into the night as the biting horseflies retired into cold darkness and the moon shone brightly. In the chilly morning before parting, we shared some hot coffee prepared on my wood-burning stove (no-cup Emerson drank his from a plastic bag), snapped some photos and compared the weights of our packs. Mine weighed the most: 20 pounds plus food and water. Gurwell's weighed less: 15 pounds, although for the moment, at least, missing a stove. Emerson's weighted only 10 featherweight pounds. With solemn conviction Emerson intoned "ounces become pounds, grams become kilograms." He shook his head dubiously on learning that my pack contained no less than six (6) variously colored bandanas to his one (1) white handkerchief. Most experienced long-distance hikers accept the spartan regimen of traveling light for the duration of their trip. The pack load of a homeless wanderer, however, must serve year-long beyond a single hiking season. Except for a possible blanket cache hidden in the desert, both winter and summer gear may be carried at all times. Therefore a summer pack may contain a few surprising extras such as an unbreakable one-inch wood chisel digging tool [since lost on a coffee farm in Costa Rica and replaced by an even smaller pencil-shaft nail-extractor tool], a pocket diamond matrix whetstone, barber's scissors, candy gifts for children or Tarahumara Indians, wool socks and wool mittens, a down jacket and six bandanas. See Willis's entry in the Distance Hiker's Gazette Fall 1999 for 44 uses for a bandana. Willis reports that after pondering the example set by William Emerson and other ultra-light experts, beginning with his first lesson in his 1993 Mexico-Oregon hike received from Scott Williamson (making a trio of Wills), he has reduced the number of his essential bandanas from six to three (food, body and mud). Long period of no available email communication! September 7, 1999 My solo six-month Continental Divide hike is finally over, completed today in Cuba, NM. Words fail to describe the inner experience so this field report will stick to the facts. Starting last March 9, I set out from my winter retreat in the Sonora Desert bordering Mexico and walked across Arizona in 21 walking days, averaging 20 miles per day. Then on reaching the Divide, headed north through New Mexico (31 walking days, including the Chama segment finished today), Wyoming (30 days), Idaho (7 days), Montana (36 days) and finally Colorado southbound (24 days, one of them without rain). (Ed. Note: Willis says that since then he has acquired a GoLite umbrella) The total of 149 walking days in 6 months adds up to about 3,000 miles, slightly less than the 'official' CDT trail length of 3,100 miles, because of my taking more direct routes near the end, due in part to global warming causing heavy rainfall in the mountains. With a stride of 27 inches, that is 2,340 steps per mile, or more than 7 million steps total. My thanks to my parents who diligently mailed map packs and hiking supplies stored in the Willis Whoa Bin. My gratitude to all those who welcomed me on the trail and encouraged me by word and example to keep on to the end, especially the Leadville 100 Mile Race runners, encountered in their 55th mile jogging down Willis (no kidding) Gulch from 12,000 foot Hope Pass. The only article which did not get much use was my sitting meditation bandana, but at least it did serve as a reminder to resume sitting practice when stiff, muscular legs become flexible again. To those CDT hikers whom I met or almost met on the trail; Jim and Ginny Owen, Bush and Julian from Texas, Paul Leech; Bill Gurwell; Jeff Wheatley from Florida; Jim Wolf of CDTS, and William 'Marathon Man' Emerson; as well as any other southbound hikers: Beware of an early Colorado winter - yellowing aspen leaves, bushy squirrels, greedy camp robber jays, nippy nights above 10,000 feet, and morning rainbows. The ground is so saturated with monsoon rain that puddles form overnight. On the positive side, the daily rain seems to be discouraging would-be hunters, hauling their putt-putt ATVs back out on flatbeds or pickups. I do my part by shouting my war cry Hoy! from time to time to clear the field. Hoy! means Today! in Spanish, Carpe Diem in Latin or Mama Mia in Hebrew. [Note: now I prefer Whoa! -- not so strident. WW] What did I gain by this Continental Divide hike? A bead necklace from Glacier Park. What did I lose? A pair of white socks. What did I learn? To endure discomfort patiently. Was it worth it? Grist for the mill! Would I do it again? Not in one season. Do I recommend it? Only to the most valiant explorers, those who ignore the appropriate time of their going. What next? Coconut cream pie. Farewell Continental Divide! Hello Today! HOY! September 10, 1999 The hardware gear described below are all winners, survivors of my six-month 3,000 mile Continental Divide Trail hike, building on previous experience thru-hiking the PCT, as well as six years of voluntary homeless wilderness life. Their weight adds up to about 20 pounds plus food and water, a load which allows 20 mile days and restful nights. There are some long distance hikers who get by on even less. John Muir, for example, once wrote that all he needed to go on a hike was a loaf of bread in a gunny sack and a neighbor's backyard fence to jump over. But this set described below is what suits me, and is presented as a suggestion for other fellow hikers. The important thing is to experience life for yourself, to decide for yourself what is worthwhile. A list like this one is only a platform to jump off from, like the backyard fence Muir needed to get started. Sleeping bag duffel (left side): 20 degree down bag, loosely packed to prolong life. Duffel has room for extra toilet paper, cotton balls, small clothing bag and extra food for maximum 9-day range. Like a Mexican bus, there is always room for one more. (Ed. Note: Willis is currently sewing a quilt by hand.) [update 2002: rethinking use of wool and down because of cruelty to animals] Rucksack: Top-loading pack with glove compartment lid, about 3,000 cubic inches, lightweight, no internal frame. Adapted from a daypack by hand sewing external quick-access pockets and cinch straps for external sleeping bag duffel (left side) and down jacket/clothing duffel (right side), reserving main compartment for food and water. Fits in a greyhound bus or airplane overhead rack. Never out of reach when traveling except when cached in a hotel or above tree line to summit a mountain. Large clothing duffel (right side): down jacket, Duofold Thermarest crewneck undershirt, mesh bag of parachute cords (readily accessible before storm instead of rummaging thru main compartment), alternate of 2 knit shirts or T-shirts, and watertight nylon stuff bag for washing clothes, containing a 2-oz Nalgene bottle of detergent, lasting about 4 weeks, used frugally to remove odors, not grass stains. Laundry must be done daily, an acquired discipline. Drape on back of pack to dry out while morning sun shines. The sign of a long distance hiker is laundry on his pack; short-timers have homes and washing machines. Small clothing bag: one hip pocket bandana, 2 non-cotton briefs, 2 pairs nylon socks, one pair ragg wool socks (for sleeping and mosquitoes, not for walking), one pair wool mittens. Other clothing not listed above: one pair of Supplex nylon cargo pants, quick drying, with custom sewn pockets for a small folding knife (sheath pocket sewn inside right hip pocket and secured with a zipper), a watch (left front), a 5-degree compass with declination ring (right front) and a passport/money pocket in back for travel to Mexico. White hat (nylon, washable, folds into pants pocket, otherwise a Mexican straw sombrero is also good, but requires a strap to attach to back of pack when not being worn). Shoes: walking or running shoes, never heavy boots. Leather tops such as New Balance $65 last twice as long as fabric shoes; it's a toss up if slight weight improvement is worth the extra cost; decision may depend on availability. WalMart has featherweight jogging shoes for $9.95. Just rip out the tongue and the Velcro straps and sew on a couple of shoelace loops. Nylon windbreaker with integral hood, anorak style. Wigwam thermostat skull cap. Nylon running shorts. Top glove compartment: Ditty bag with address book, memo book, ballpoint pen, comb, acrylic mirror, all waterproofed inside ziplock bag; mosquito headnet; sewing kit. Sewing kit: Rubbermaid 14-oz flat Servin Saver: black nylon upholstery thread, white button/carpet thread, three-ply waxed nylon pack thread, lump of beeswax, assorted hand and machine needles. Safesport knurled nut needle holder with cotter pin handle (if not available, improvise individual handles with wooden dowel rods, drill and epoxy), 8 straight pins, vinyl tape measure cut to 37 inch, tiny pointed sewing scissors, USA pin point precision tweezers, straight razor blade, Kenyon ripstop nylon tent repair, butane lighter, spare batteries, fingernail clipper, spare GI can opener, 30 dB foam earplugs for Mexico. Other external quick access pack pockets: map/correspondence/passport pouch, hair-cutting scissors, flashlight, 4 yard parachute cord, toilet paper, unbreakable one-inch wood chisel digging tool, "mudder" all-purpose bandana-rag, small jar vaseline (fire starter and skin ointment), 1-oz vials of DEET, iodine tablets, ascorbic acid tablets to neutralize iodine, aspirin for pain. Tarp: 5 X 7' Campmor grommeted green nylon, rigged with a 7-yard length diagonal ridge-line and two opposite corner guy lines. Using short strings preattached at each tarp corner, position the tarp along the selected ridgeline diagonal using a boy-scout slip knot (a clove hitch with an extra turn on the inside). Tighten the ridgeline and the guy lines by using a power or winch knot (see Jacobsen's Basic Essentials of Knots for the Outdoors ). Medicine kit: bandaids, cloth athletic tape, antibiotic, aspirin, antihistamine, moleskin. Mesh cord bag: Precut lengths of parachute cord, each identified on one end by colored vinyl tape ($2 package of 5 colors available at WalMart). Wrap and sew the vinyl tape onto the marked end. Set of 2 each of 2-yard lengths (red), 3-yard (yellow), 4-yard (green) - one of them kept in a quick-access external pack pocket, 5-yard (white), and one 7-yard ridgeline (white with yellow stripe), add up to 105 feet of parachute cord. If necessary to make a longer cord, join short cords using a sheetbend knot. Fasten guy lines using a bowline knot or two half hitches with quick release. Ground cloth: remnants of old tarp. Tyvek is super-light and the current fad but vulnerable to thorns. Stove kit: Sierra Zip wood burning stove, modified by replacing tethered fan switch with an onboard Radio Shack toggle switch, nested inside a 1.0 liter stainless steel pot (titanium if available), Vaseline smeared cotton balls in small bag stuffed inside dry combustion chamber. Black tar-encrusted pot is never washed on the outside, rather stored inside a one gallon ziploc bag inside a custom fitted nylon stuff bag, with pot holder and copper scouring pad on top. Because of sloppy dimple stove construction, the unit tends to fall apart when dumping out ashes, but this minor problem is easily handled by restraining the stove with a stick. The elegant concept of replacing heavy passive insulation with lightweight active air convection to boost stove efficiency more than compensates for minor engineering design flaws. My stove has worked well for more than a year, 2-3 times every day. Wood fuel is abundant everywhere, from dead creosote branches in the Sonora desert to sagebrush roots on the Wyoming range to willows along streams to evergreens in forests. The stove works well even with wet or snow-covered wood, and permits extended stays in remote backcountry where petroleum fuel is not available. However, a gasoline stove such as the MSR Whisperlite is more convenient. The alternative of going stoveless on a hike by building wood campfires is not recommended, based on my personal experience, because of time-consuming inconvenience and significant forest fire hazard. However, for longer stays in one place, a rock-and-dirt stove/oven is easy to build and gives excellent performance in rain or wind, although consuming more wood and producing more visible smoke. The other alternative of not cooking at all is acceptable for short 2-4 day hikes, but the low calorie-to-mass ratio does not favor longer hikes. Water: 4 liters in the arid Southwest, 2 liters elsewhere. No water filter. Drink water from mountain streams, or treat stagnant water with iodine, or boil it on a wood-burning abundant-fuel stove. Spice bag: Rubbermaid 2-cup Servin Saver plastic bowl with rim flange, small sugar jar nested inside bowl, spoon, food bandana, Nalgene 2-oz bottles (coffee, salt, black pepper, hot pepper, garlic powder, cumin/curry mix), toothbrush (salt as toothpaste), dental floss in precut lengths in 35mm vial, One-a-Day vitamins, GI can opener, sunscreen for lips. Avoid eating near water on account of noise, insects, private property and limited views. In bear country, never sleep anywhere near where food has been cooked, especially designated campgrounds. Leave off wearing silly ding-dong dinner bells; instead give a manly, stirring shout Hoy! from time to time to assert your place in the wilderness. Many animals also cry out Here I am! Variously colored food bags: Hint: high calorie peanut butter is a glue that holds everything together, less messy than oil. Great with Ramen noodles. Strategic Timing, Food, and Water I feel a little embarrassed to read some of the things I wrote on this hike. In retrospect I did so much of it wrong, especially regarding strategic timing, food and water. On page 176 of Ray Jardine's book Beyond Backpacking I am the fellow he met and described as "hating" hiking after 4.5 months on a diet of nothing but wheat spaghetti and peanut butter. This conversation took place when we met in Tuolumne Meadows in 1994. On this 1999 CDT hike I varied my diet a little more but still not enough and my intake of water was limited by not finding springs along high crest trails in the late summer. When all of my body fat melted away after a few months, dehydration headaches started up every afternoon for the last six weeks of the hike. Naturally, I was in a hurry to finish which spoiled the fun. [update by JWJ 4/06/2012 from Waianae, Oahu: the headaches might have been due to an unsuspected wheat allergy in addition to dehydration.] Quick summary of the problems that resulted from uninformed strategic planning: March in Arizona: dry. April in New Mexico: winds all day. May in Wyoming: freezing winds, snow, on exposed open range. June-July: 160% snow buried Wind Rivers in Montana and Yellowstone. Therefore tedious road walks, then mosquitoes, swollen streams, a moose attack, and headaches begin. August in Colorado: Summer monsoon, rain every single day (23 out of 24). A better strategy might have been a North-South hike departing Glacier Park in July, with a New Mexico warmup in June. It would not be true that I hate hiking, in spite of my exasperated remark to Ray and Jenny. I just haven't learned how to do it the right way yet. If something is not right, it is not the trail's fault; it is my fault. The trail is a guru at every step and my job is to learn from it. Beyond Jardine But if there is any topic on which I would expand further, it is the challenge of hiking as a permanently itinerant life style, not just a summer adventure. I am still looking for that groove, a balance of sitting and walking. My CDT '99 hike failed in that respect, but I still learned from it. I learned that 20+ mile days are beyond my capacity to do well. I did them but not well. When did I ever "leap over flowers lightly"? This next season, if I am permitted to go forth yet another season, I want to try 10-mile days. Rise at 4:30 am, sit in meditation until dawn, walk about 4 hours till lunch. Then stay put until late afternoon when another hour's walk would be a pleasant diversion, not a treadmill grind. Sure, Jardine gave us the freedom and means to achieve phenomenal mileage, but as he himself quoted Thoreau on p. 413, "There is no more fatal blunderer than he who consumes the greater part of his life getting his living." Change "getting his living" to "getting to his destination". If there is any message I would pass on to my brother/sister hikers, it is this: Whoa-down! Take it easy. Restrain your hyperactive body. Restrain your furious breath. Restrain your hot mind. Believe me, it is harder to walk 10 miles a day than 20. October 7, 1999 Bueno, today (hoy) in Caborca, Sonora, Mexico, I have returned now to the Sonora desert for my sixth annual winter retreat. My recent vacation near Basaseachi, Chihuahua, winding down from hiking the Continental Divide, was a peaceful interlude between wars. Camped at 2,000 meters (Mexico is metric) in mixed forest of ponderosa pine, broadleaf encina oak and smooth red madrone. Last night as I walked away from the Caborca bus terminal into the clear desert night air, I saw overhead the soft smudge of our sister galaxy at the end of the third chain binding princess Andromeda. Its pristine light departed some 2.2 million years ago, about when our human ancestors walked, yes walked, out of the jungle onto a grassy plain. It is the farthest object visible to the naked eye. Towards the southern horizon, between Gamma Sagittarii and 45 Ophiuchi, the black hole at the center of our own Milky Way is obscured by gas and stardust, 27,000 light years deep. By day the desert is frugal, conserving water in tree leaves the size of grains of rice, but by night it unfolds a starry tapestry with lavish extravagance. On the whoapath J. "Willis Whoa" Jarvis P.O. Box 744, Lukeville AZ 85341 The Distance Hiker's Gazette: vol 5 #3, Summer 2000 Home Page (jwleaf.org)