RyanJordan.com Blog

Simplifying Water Management in the Mountains

ryan — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 06:08:00 +0000

Parable of the Pot

There once was a pot.

It could be dipped in a stream while stopped at a rest stop, and because the pot was big enough, it could be passed around, filled to the brim, amongst its cooperative of masters, and they could drink their fill with one scoop.

The pot was light enough, that any one of them would carry it without complaint.

This was a hardy, and versatile pot.

In the evenings, upon arrival to the pitch, it would settle into the fire to heat enough water for dinner.

Once empty, it would receive a refill, and another visit to the fire, for hot drinks that would give the crew cheer well into the darker hours of the evening.

This was a hallowed pot.

Because in the morning, the pot would visit the fire again to brew cowboy coffee, and thus achieve its highest calling.

This was a versatile pot.

In the pack, that pot would hold various sundries. One day, the tarp. Another day, a jacket. Most days, extra food.

Other than those little bits of "personal items" that we all toss into a single stuff sack and at times, number into the dozens (what a nightmare to keep track of these bits!), cooking and water carry/treatment gear is ripe for commercialization (by manufacturers), suckerization (by consumers), and burdenization (by trekkers).

But there are two things that neither manufacturers nor suckers can fight: fire and water.

Burn bans and riparian troughs aside, most mountain trekkers can enjoy the aesthetic of a wood fire and clean(ish) mountain water and thus vastly increase the simplicity of their kit.

If you have these resources available to you, and you are traveling as a group, consider some of these strategies:

Carry 4L pots and cook over fire. Figure on about 2-5 persons per 4 liter pot, and you'll be in good shape. A $20 aluminum 4L pot weighs 16 oz, and you can use your PossumDown wool gloves to retrieve the pot from the fire, and to pour it, without scarring your hands.
Each expedition member could carry a spoon and a Big Mug, but the mug would be optional. My early Scouting career involved only a Big Pot, and spoons. This violates health codes but keeps mealtime simple, light, and full of relational intimacy. I opt for the mug nowadays, because I like holding a Big Mug and warming my hands on it. Plus, my coffee is MY COFFEE.
To round out cooking, you only need a Firestarting Kit. Skip matches, lighters, and other accoutrements that give false security, because at some point or another, you'll have to start a big fire in the pouring rain with numb fingers.
For water stowage, I try to avoid water bottles when I can. An entire industry ($B's, not $M's) has been built on water storage containers, and it's pretty fun to be able to walk away from all that and just say, "Nahhh, don't need it." This requries good water management strategy (tanking up at water sources), and a reasonably short distance between water sources. The areas where you can do this are more prevalent than you think, and aren't limited to the high lake plateaus of the Wild West.
For water treatment, when traveling solo, I really like the option of the Big Mug and the Steri-Pen, but the Steri-Pen is not foolproof and requires extra batteries for a little bit of security. For treating large pots of water, the Steri-Pen is pure misery and it's best to hike with folks who've all had giardia and are thus a bit resistant to it, and are willing to suffer a little risk for dipping and drinking on the go. But even in big groups, a few Steri-Pens and a bunch of Big Mugs work OK and get everyone hydrated in a matter of minutes, and not dozens of minutes, like filter and chemical systems.

My favorite solo cook and water kit:

Backpacking Light SUL 900 Pot (new model coming Fall '10 so sign up for a stock alert)
Light My Fire Titanium Spork
Backpacking Light FireLite Mini Firestarting Kit
Steri-Pen Adventurer

My favorite group (e.g., 4-person) cook and water kit:

Open Country Gallon Pot
Backpacking Light FireLite Mini Firestarting Kit
Backpacking Light SUL 900 Pot (1 per person)
Light My Fire Titanium Spork (1 per person)
Two Steri-Pen Adventurers

Tenkara Bums and More

ryan — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 15:00:00 +0000

Little bits of random goodness about Tenkara fly fishing gear, technique, and people.

Tenkara Bums

I do possess totally nerdy roots as a computer programmer and can remember even as a kid my obsession with what eventually became known as "program bumming" - the removal of code that results in no loss of efficiency (and often, in improvement) or function. To be a bum, was a badge of honor that eventually earned some of my peers a ticket to an early retirement. I chose the far more altruistic, and far less profitable path, of attending University.

So I smile a little bit whenever I hear of a "ski bum" or a "hiking bum" or a "fishing bum" and instead of scoffing at them, I study them, because like the programmer who changed the world, these are the guys innovating and changing our favorite pastimes for the better. The only difference between these bums and code bums is of course, the money, which is why you should try to support them instead of upgrading to Windows 8.

This brings me to the main point and that is the emergence of the Tenkara Bum, a recent new subspecies of Bum.

I joined the Tenkara Bums (has anyone tattooed this yet?) because I'm hopelessly enthralled with this modern day "willow-stick" style of fly fishing. It's an interesting circle of influence we share, because frankly, there isn't a lot of gear to buy and there's precious few skills to learn and master. Like other classes of fishing bums (I've been a member in the past and present of groups known as Steelhead Bums, Madison River Bums, Beartooth Plateau Bums, etc.), I think Tenkara Bums are drawn to each other in search of a common experience, and for Tenkara Bums, it's simple: we like to catch fish on minimalist tackle, and we like to see each other catch fish on minimalist tackle.

Many of the Tenkara Bum Inner Circle found our way here because it was a natural progression from ultralight backpacking and we are finding that Tenkara fishing reflects the ethos we already possess, and have honed, for years.

So this post is as much a tribute to the Tenkara Bum as it is to Tenkara gear and technique, and here are my #followfriday recommendations for a few up-and-coming Tenkara Bums with interesting Tenkara experiences:

Chris Stewart (www and twitter)
Jason Klass (www and twitter)
Daniel Galhardo (www and twitter)
Hendrik Morkel (www and twitter)
Adam Boyze (twitter)

The Tenkara Hane

I see the Tenkara Hane is sold out over at Backpacking Light, so I put in another order for them this week. Be sure to sign up for a stock alert if you want to get on the waiting list.

We originally developed this as a limited edition. Tenkara was supposed to be a fad, a passing thing. We were supposed to sell enough rods to satisfy the demand of the people who wanted these kooky collapsible willows - you know, like GoLite did with the Breeze.

Instead, we commissioned several more production runs, and have had a tough time keeping these in stock (surprise, surprise). There's a good reason for that, I think, and it's because they fill a unique niche amongst Tenkara rods: they're short, and compact. Their short extended length means they are a fantastic option for tight situations where a long rod is unwieldy. I wish it could be even shorter, and I may indeed start playing with shorter designs. Their short compacted length has obvious benefits in that it can be stowed inside a small carryon or pack.

The most common inquiry I get about the Hane goes like this:

Its short length (i.e., 9'10", or 3m) makes it impractical for big fish, big rivers, and lakes, right?

Let's talk for a moment about ideals vs. practical use.

I'm an idealist too, so I recognize that when I'm fishing a big river, playing a big fish, or extended my reach as far as possible, I may want every advantage available. Within the confines of Tenkara fishing, that means I want a long rod. Within the confines of fly fishing, that means a long rod, a reel with disc drag, good double haul technique, and 2X fluorocarbon tippet.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

My short reply is thus a simple one:

Stalking big fish by getting close to them, hooking them, and playing them to shore on a little rod like the Hane is an experience unto itself!

In other words, can it be done?

Of course it can. It's up to you -- not your gear.

The Little Bamboo Tenkara Box

There's a lot of hype about the environmental benefits of bamboo but until somebody can start growing it in my backyard in Montana instead of having to ship it from southeast Asia, I'm probably not inclined to listen to them, and for me, those are not the primary benefits of using bamboo.

I love wood. I love art. Bamboo is beautiful. So I designed a Tenkara fly box out of it for Backpacking Light. It should be available in their new Tenkara fly fishing kit, which includes the box, flies, tippet, and some other neat accessories sometime soon.

Backpacking Light's new bamboo fly box, to be launched Fall 2010 as part of an ultrailght Tenkara fly fishing kit. LEICA M9.

It's pretty light too, but not as light as the Morell Foam Fly Box, the creation of which we owe to the likes of BP, Exxon, and others. The Morell is my second favorite box, but only because I didn't think of it first.

Tenkara Eating Techniques

The Tenkara-caught trout is best dressed with a Baladeo Knife, sprinkled with sea salt, placed atop a Zia Titanium Grill and cooked over a fire started with a Firesteel Mini, and eaten with a Light My Fire Titanium Spork. The reason I love each of these pieces of gear is because of their (mostly) simple design aesthetic, and the fact that they just plain work. The knife, the grill, and the spork are true works of art. The Firesteel Mini's aesthetic could benefit from a nice teak handle!

(Disclaimer: I profit from products that I promote and sell at Backpacking Light. Maybe I get a dime every time you buy a firestarting kit, I don't know. I just know that I'm pretty thankful to have a job in today's economy running Backpacking Light and I don't have to eke out a living as a Tenkara Bum. The reality, however, is that I do use this gear, and the reverse is usually true: Backpacking Light stocks, and sells, the products that I use and recommend the most to others. You see, it does go both ways. It's also more fun than selling advertising. Remember, there is a reason this stuff is out of stock a lot: it's really good gear.)

My son Chase, now 12, and a Backpacking Light customer (I wonder if Sam gave him a discount on that titanium spork?). He loves all aspects of trout fishing, and has a special affinity for Tenkara, cooking fish over fire, and eating them. Here he is in the Beartooths this summer enjoying one of the brook trout shown in the stringer in the main photo accompanying this post. PANASONIC DMC-TS1.

And yes, this is exactly how I dress, cook, and eat Tenkara trout most of the time.

The Most Important Tenkara Skills

The most important Tenkara skills are not casting or mending and they have nothing to do with knots or flies.

The most important Tenkara skills are Vision, and Stealth.

With Vision, you can see fish underwater and be like Superman. To have Vision, you need polarized glasses, knowledge of where fish like to hang out, and patience.

With Stealth, you can sneak up to within casting range of those fish without them seeing you. To have Stealth, you sometimes need to be willing to crawl, and you always need to both plan your approach, and then have the patience to go slow.

With both Vision and Stealth, you can elevate your Tenkara fishing from hobby fishing to real hunting.

With both Vision and Stealth, you can find, reach, and catch Big Fish - even with a Hane.

In Conclusion: It's About the Experience, Ya Bum!

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Tenkara really isn't about the gear or the skills, it's about the experience of catching fish (notice that I didn't just say "fishing" - how boring is that!) on minimalist gear.

It really is a wonderful thing, and I can't shamelessly promote it enough as a sport in its own right, especially for the ultralight backpacking community.

Besides, there are plenty of other support groups out there to help the Tenkara Scoffers, those bums.

Scout Leader Training: Ultralight Backpacking

ryan — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 20:18:49 +0000

In May 2010 I had the privilege of teaching one of the most exciting courses ever to Scout Leaders from across North America.

They came from Alberta, the District of Columbia, Virginia, Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, Washington, and other faraway lands to little old DuPuyer, Montana at the foothills of the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex.

Their mission was simple: "Help me help our Scouts enjoy backpacking more."

That's the easy part, just lighten them up with cheap, light, decent gear, and show them how to use it.

Therein lies some of what we do in this course. After all, it's a pretty cool thing to play with a bunch of ultralight gear and try out new things.

But that isn't the most important part.

Scout Leaders from across the country convene in the Bob Marshall Wilderness near DuPuyer, Montana for a training course in ultralight backpacking gear, skills, and integration with Scouting Aims and Methods. SIGMA DP2s.

The really cool parts of the course are all about how this whole Ultralight Thing fits into the Aims and Methods of Scouting, and especially, how we integrate ultralight gear and skills to:

Maximize opportunities for the Patrol Method to work;
Build expedition leadership skills among young people;
Identify and address the unique challenges and benefits of immersing Scouts, their parents, and their leaders into the ultralight paradigm.

The course proved so popular (we sold out in a matter of days), and the participants recognized it to be such an important part of their training as Scoutmasters, High Adventure program leaders, Outdoor Program Chairpersons, etc. that we'll be cementing the course into our calendar for the next few years.

And where else to do this than in the beauty of Montana Wilderness?

So, save the date for 2011: May 12-15. Reserve your spot now by contacting me! Alumni, of course, are welcome (bring a friend!) - our program will change from year to year to provide everyone with a fresh experience.

This course is provided in partnership with Backpacking Light, The Boone & Crockett Club, Montana Council BSA, and United States Forest Service.

Wilderness Simplicity, Flexibility, and Power

ryan — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:03:00 +0000

I love Brent Simmon's recent post about flexibility and power in the context of iOS Apps, and especially, his brilliant observation that

...flexibility is just a tool to use exceedingly sparingly, only when it substantially increases power.

There's a lot of meat in this statement, with direct relevance to trekking, and trekking gear.

Now, it depends on how one might define power. Traditional definitions might equate power to speed, or distance. A more thoughtful person might consider that efficiency reflects power while on an expedition.

I'd propose that these superficial manifestations of power be completely discarded in lieu of discovering what emotional and mental power is all about, which is simplicity, and the freedom from having to fiddle, choose, and think about stuff that isn't really that important.

Four stakes and a stick. It doesn't get much easier than this. Simplicity is one of the reasons I love pyramid shelters, and for most summer trekking in the mountains, why I don't fool around with extra things like ground cloths and bivy sacks. Above: Dupuyer Creek, Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex, Montana. SIGMA DP2s.

What if your backpack had only one compartment and didn't offer a zillion straps and organizational doodads?This is where gear comes in. Consider the following questions in the context of the aesthetic complexity (call it flexibility if you like, but do recognize is it for what it is) and how much power a feature-rich piece of kit really provides for you on a walk in a Wild Place.

What if your shoes provided only enough structure to protect your feet, and didn't offer pronation control, cushioning, arch support, and speed laces?
What if your cook kit was a pot, a spoon, and a firestarter, and not much else?
What if you left your sunglasses case at home?
What if you replaced your $1000 Orvis fly rod and reel with something simpler, like a Tenkara rod?
What if you replaced your tent with a tarp?
What if you limited the number of items you carried in your pack to 50? 20? How about 10?

I mean - really - what if? Maybe we don't ask that question enough, and really evaluate the consequences of our kit choices.

These are questions an idealist likes to ask, but the answers reveal practical limitations about how we look at engaging ourselves with (into) a Wild Place. Everyone's answers are different, of course, because everyone has their own definition of what "power" really means in terms of the success of a walk.

The thesis that I'm exploring is that there is a balance between aesthetic simplicity and functions-features-flexibility, and that I'm still a long ways from achieving the balance that I desperately crave in the Wilds, and that my experiences are still riddled with more complexity than I want.

Here's a brief, and total gear list that I used for weekend trekking in Montana last fall and this summer. The goal is to achieve an aesthetic form of kit simplicity and see what comes out of it in my experiences.

Pack - a 50L dry bag with shoulder straps, and a single mesh back pocket for wet gear
Pad - torso-sized foam pad, rolled inside packbag for support
Bag - a synthetic quilt
Shelter - a pyramid tarp with four stakes and four guylines for mid-point tie-outs
Cold weather gear - synthetic hooded pullover and pants
Storm gear - waterproof rain jacket
Clothing worn - bandana, wool underwear, hooded wool shirt, light trekking pants, wool socks, trail shoes, baseball cap, sunglasses
Cook kit - 900ml titanium pot, titanium spork, and magnesium firestarter (packed in pot)
Ursack for food storage, contains titanium grill for cooking fish
Steripen for water treatment (cook pot serves as water bottle) (packed in pot)
Hand sanitizer (packed in pot)
Toothbrush (packed in pot)
Pocketknife (packed in pot, used only when bringing fishing gear)
Notebook, pen, and compact camera (packed in pants pockets)
Map and compass (when needed in unfamiliar area) (compass worn on neck, map in side pocket of pants)
Headnet (when needed during peak season only) (packed in pants pocket)
One trekking pole
Tenkara Hane rod, Tenkara line, one tippet spool (5x), license, and fly box with flies (all stowed in fly box, rod in pack) (used only in areas with fishing opportunities)
Pak-Rifle .22 + shells (during grouse season)
1.3 to 1.5 lbs of food/day (when not fishing/hunting), 0.8 to 1.0 lbs of food/day (when fishing/hunting)

More important, here are the things on don't carry on these trips:

Pack liner
Stuff sacks
Ground cloth
Water bottle

And I'm sure you'll find more stuff absent from my list.

Interestingly, I still consider this a pretty luxurious kit, with the following items added purely for comfort, convenience, and experience, and lacking the character of an "essential":

Steripen (it's not hard to find good water in Montana)
Hand sanitizer (there are plant elixirs one can mix up for hand washing as needed)
Pocketknife (I only use this for preparing fish and game)
Toothbrush (some tasty plants can get you by through a weekend, but not generally longer treks)
Notebook, pen, and camera (not bringing these might kill me, but I will admit that they aren't essential items to wilderness living, and can even be a barrier for those with journalistic aspirations)
Map and compass (as familiarity with an area increases, the need to know where you are goes down)
Headnet (seasonal)
Trekking pole (I can usually prepare a stick suitable for pitching the 'mid well enough)
Rod and rifle (easy enough to leave home by bringing enough food)

Now, realizing that the kit can be distilled to a pack, pad, bag, clothes, pot, spoon, firestarter, and bear bag - without entering the realm of Wilderness Survival - the real freedom of a simple kit becomes apparent.

There are no questions about "where shall I stow this item?"

The need to ask "hmmm...where did I lay that piece of kit?" goes away.

And the activities of gear repair, gear organization, gear finding, gear tracking, and gear using decrease substantially in time.

Which begs the question to the wilderness traveler:

"Now what to I do?"

To which I respond simply:

"Walk."

Cliffhanging: Bear Bagging Above the Treeline

ryan — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 21:57:19 +0000

On the Arctic 1000, we slept with our food. This gave me a little bit of trepidation, especially when our camp was usually surrounded by some combination of wolves, muskox, and grizzly bears.

I'm sure that's what Andy will be doing as well during his traverse of the Brooks Range this year. Otherwise, sleeping with your food is generally considered to be a black market activity not to be shared on the Internet. Wilderness food storage considerations are receiving renewed interest in light of recent grizzly bear attacks at a campground that was less than eight miles from where the above photograph was taken. (The attacks appeared to be unrelated to food storage policies but have resulted in a dramatic increase in bear frenzy.)

Bear canisters are required in some areas but for most of us up here in the northern Rockies, we make do with trees, which are generally plentiful.

Above the treeline, folks consider all sorts of haberdashery in addition to bear canisters in the name of weight savings. Some of these strategies include:

Stowing your food, and some heavy rocks in (or tying another stow sack filled with same to) a dry bag, attaching a retrieval cord, and tossing it into a lake. I've used this method with good success, but after observing a high altitude otter trying to thieve the contents on a trek a few years ago, I abandoned the idea because I couldn't sleep well at night.
My friend Peter Vacco, who's the only guy I know who has walked the Continental Divide from Mexico to Point Hope, builts a little tripod with his trekking poles, hangs the food from it, and perches it a few dozen feet from his tent. It keeps short critters out, which is his goal, but offers no security against animals with legs longer than a few inches other than entertainment value when they start feasting. Peter never lost his food. Maybe a bigger tripod is the answer (collapsible 5 meter carbon poles?)
Electric fences are all the rage with institutional groups and outfitters, but after watching a bear get zapped on the nose and then walk right through one to retrieve food, I'm not so sure. Plus, they're extraordinarily heavy. Nine pounds is OK for a group, and less OK for me and a pal.
Alan Dixon and I used Ursacks on a few trips in the Beartooths, including at our basecamp for an ice climb up Whitetail Peak. The problem there was less "bears" and more "goats", which tend to eat everything in sight whether it looks or tastes like food - or not. Goats love Ursacks and they tore through one of mine one night using a combination of teeth, hooves, horns, and the persistent determination of a goat.

I've tried lots of other light methods, as well, including several layers of 12.5" x 20" O.P. Saks, which I might use if I were to sleep with my food...Three O.P.'s give me a bit of security on a longer walk, and when stashed inside a Blast Cuben Fiber stow bag, I don't worry about rodents either, because they have a hard time chewing through the fibers.

However, I still sleep best when my food remains inaccessible to a bear (or goat), so I look for cliffs when I can.

The cliff should be at least 15 feet high, and ideally, vertical or overhanging. Your rope needs to have a little more beef than the thin cords used for hanging food in trees because it will suffer abrasion on sharp granite as you raise and lower the bag. My rope choice is AirCore Rope, which is tough enough.

Some more tips:

Scout the cliff from below so you know exactly where you want to hang. This is where a buddy (spotter) can really help.
If the rock is really sharp, or you have to use thin rope, set up a "top rope" with a carabiner or tiny pulley tossed weightless over the cliff with the main hang rope threaded through it, then hang your bag from below using the PCT Method as you normally would in a tree. This requires a 25+ foot tall cliff.

The only methods I can heartily recommend for food storage in the Northern Rockies are tree hanging and bear canisters. Any other methods may be a compromise in safety, land management agency policy, and personal comfort. Use your head, and don't let a goat (or bear) get your food.

GoLite Shangri-La 6 & 8: Lightweight Crew Shelters That Meet Standards of Storm Protection, Simplicity, and Group Dynamics

ryan — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 16:47:18 +0000

We use GoLite Shangri-La 6's and 8's for our advanced (WT3) Wilderness Trekking School courses, and when I outfit Scout High Adventure Programs going into hostile environments.

There are three primary reasons.

They are light enough. Between the shelters, poles, and a big set of robust stakes, shelter weight comes out to around a pound per person. On our Wilderness Trekking III courses ("Advanced Expedition Trekking"), nobody complains about the weight because all the participants are tough enough, and we have other challenges on those trips (bad weather, getting lost, staying warm, etc.) that are worth complaining about. On Scout High Adventure Treks, nobody complains about the shelter weight because the biggest, toughest kids usually carry the shelter and to complain about it would negate the servant leadership position they are trying to earn.
They are tough enough. Having weathered high winds, heavy snows, and driving rain in all seasons and at all altitudes (in the CONUS, at least), none of us ever worry about whether or not the shelter is going to survive a storm. We used to pair these shelters with goofy weight-saving alternatives like titanium skewer stakes and carbon poles, or trekking poles for the support poles. But after breaking poles in storms and having stakes go flying, we ditched those things in favor of strong aluminum poles (we use the stock poles from GoLite), eight Easton Monster Pegs (8") for the ridgelines, corners, and side mid-points, and 6" aluminum V-stakes for the rest (4 additional sides, the doors, and the six side guylines. The result is that we no longer worry, and we can camp whereever we want, like Rough Lake (above).
They are intimate enough. With a crew, relational intimacy is extremely important. Sure, you can separate everyone in different shelters, but when you do so, you lose opportunities for group communication, and for developing camaraderie. Group intimacy is probably the single most important thing that contributes to the success (which I define as the feeling of "Wow! What an amazing trek!") of a group trek. A shelter big enough to house the whole group minimizes the formation of a cliques and coalitions, and is a lot more fun.

Boy Scout Patrol in a GoLite Shangri-La 8 during their 50-Miler across the Beartooth Plateau, July 2010. PANASONIC TS-1.

The problem with the GoLite Shangri-La 6/8 is that by the time most of us had the opportunity to really get to know the shelter, and its capabilities, GoLite discontinued it.

This is what happens when companies release products before their time and aren't able to allow a product to mature in the marketplace because of the cash flow and economies of scale constraints caused by low sales volumes. Therma-Rest pads didn't exactly revolutionize backcountry travel upon their introduction (their cost and reliability prevented mass market adoption for a few years), but thank goodness they stuck with it.

I think the GoLite Shangri-La 6 and 8 are the best institutional crew shelters made by anybody. Ever.

Now, we're stuck with splitting crews into two or three big pyramids, which discombobulates group dynamics, results in decreased storm resistance (single pole pyramids are abysmal in heavy winter snows due to their high surface area:structure ratio) and forces us into carrying and having to keep track of, and care for, more gear. Simplicity has its virtues.

There are undoubtedly still a few tucked away in bargain basements, so grab them while you can - they're gems.

Lonesome Shelter

ryan — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 15:00:00 +0000

I have a lesser need to "feel" like I "need" to hike solo today than yesterday because the depth of my experience as a solo traveler will be known only to me: it is difficult (at best) to convey the magic of my experience to somebody who wasn't there, and that creates a relational black hole that I've found to be spiritually cumbersome as I get older.

I know this because I've found it easy to write about my solo trips, or share photos from them, but I've found it hard to convey the depth of that experience to others. Moreover, I'm always a little bit dismayed by their reaction (or lack of) to my sharing ("Oh, that sounded like a nice trip.") My response: "Huh. I guess you had to be there."

In recent years, I have discovered the "A-Ha!" realization that I can deepen my wilderness experiences by sharing them with my wife, my son, my son's friends, my friends, Scouts - simply by inviting them along - and more important - that I'm enjoying those experiences more than the ones I gain when I go alone. With others, we can share the experience long after the trek is done. I know now that relationships deepen through meaningful experiences, and that my life is richer from hiking with others than from anything I've done to feed my own narcissistic desires to "Hike My Own Hike".

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that writing, or photography, or campfire stories are not meaningful ways of conveying the mood of a trek, but c'mon. It's just not the same as being there and sharing those experiences with someone else.

I don't want to read about Colin Fletcher's traverse of the Esplanade (even though he conveys his experience in a truly engaging manner) so much as hike it with a pal or two and see what it's really like. I bet we'd not be saying, "Huh, I guess it was just like Fletcher said. Boo."

The benefits of hiking solo have been articulated well in Philip Werner's recent post about solo backpacking and I'm pretty convinced that Andrew Skurka's romp around Alaska is going to change him forever and we'll enjoy celebrating his journey with him in due time. However, especially as I get older, I find myself wanting to trek with others because the relationships that are cemented (especially during a Tough Walk) are worth a lot more to me than most of the benefits of independence that I enjoy by walking solo.

That doesn't mean I still don't like going solo - I do. But the focus has changed from going on a "trek for me without the baggage of others" (that sometimes self-serving philosophy of "Hike Your Own Hike") to simply needing to quiet my soul a bit so I can think, and cleanse. I like that.

But the most memorable treks of my life, and far and away the most fun, have been those where I've been able to share the experience with others.

So the next time you plan a trek, consider sharing your ripstop room with a pal or two, and look forward to a lifetime of memories that will deepen your relationships. Wild Places offer wonderful opportunities to immerse your senses, but don't fall into the trap where you think they exist only to serve yourself and your perceived needs for self-time, self-healing, self-awareness, self-esteem-building, or self-ishness. Relationships are more acutely developed and thus made richer in wilderness settings - and trekking with pals may be a lot cheaper than counseling and anti-depressants caused by pursuing a lifetime of loneliness in the mountains.

Mountain Marsh Marigold in Beartooth Mountains

ryan — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 23:42:05 +0000

The Mountain Marsh Marigold is mis-named because it's a closer relative of the buttercup than of a true marigold. It has only sepals, and no petals, but failing to examine it closely will cause your brain to lie to you and trick you into thinking it's an aster, or daisy - so get down on your knees.

The defining feature, some will argue, are its leaves, but it's simpler than that.

You find them in marshy areas. Duh!

Most commonly in Montana, they grow in subalpine meadows where melting snow and little streams provide plenty of moisture for it. The one in the photo was found blooming in mid-July in Montana's Beartooth Range at 9,400 feet in a meadow that was really squishy when you walked through it. I photographed a bunch of 'em up here but this one was my favorite because its little blooming family was isolated on a tiny little grass island in the middle of a flowing creek.

It's more commonly called the "White" Marsh Marigold, although Montana (and probably parts of Idaho) have a "Sulphur" subspecies as well, that has pale yellow sepals.

The edibility of the Mountain Marsh Marigold is questionable.

Rumor has it that local native Americans dried the leaves and used them as herbs, but most of the ones I know now buy things like Spike in grocery stores so I can't confirm this rumor first hand.

In addition, I know a guy that boils its roots and eats them.

I stay away from it because it has sister species that have reportedly kills cows, and usually, where there are Mountain Marsh Marigolds growing, there are other edible foods, like wild onions, and well, trout in the lakes fed by the streams along which the Mountain Marsh Marigold grow.

Give a Boy a Map

ryan — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 16:54:00 +0000

Harry Potter couldn't cross the Beartooth Range, or be a thru-hiker, because of character attributes that are not compatible with long distance wilderness travel. You see, Harry Potter suffers from arrogance (he'd think he knew where he was when he really wasn't), impatience (he wouldn't evaluate all of his route options), and anger management (he'd get really ticked off when he discovered he was lost).

Plus, spells and stuff don't really work in the wilderness.

This is why you should teach a boy to read a map - because spells are inherently unreliable - and careful map reading breeds the humility, patience, and perseverance that allows you to travel a long way across unknown terrain.

What wilderness are you traveling, and what map are you reading to navigate it?

Cuben Fiber Tent on the Middle Fork Flathead River, Montana

ryan — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 14:20:52 +0000

In a previous post I discussed why a floorless pyramid is the best sort of shelter for wilderness travel but what it can't give you is a good view when it's raining.

I've been reviewing, and comparing, interesting ultralight options for the past few months - the Lightheart Solo (and Duo) and the custom cousin of the Solo pictured here. For this version, I specified a Cuben Fiber rain fly, dual zip doors, and one side of the fly set up as a porch for cooking and views. The dual doors let me stow gear on one side and cook and enter/exit on the other, and allow the whole thing to be completely unzipped with the fly rolled up when neither weather nor insects threaten.

I took this new 19 ounce shelter into the Great Bear Wilderness last week but didn't have time to seal the seams, and we got 2 1/2 inches of rain on the trip in 48 hours.

So I had puddles in my tent, but the views were great. I was using a synthetic quilt, so the puddles didn't do anything terribly threatening once I wrang out my sleeping bag, and I still slept warm. This is where the advantage of synthetic gear, and duplicity in insulation (quilt + insulating jacket and pants made from high loft synthetic insulation) really comes in handy.

Earlier I lamented about having too many tents but once I seal the seams on this one I think it will rapidly become something I use more, at least on short trips when I don't mind the extra weight of a tent, especially as bug season beckons.

Not Today's View from Apgar, Glacier National Park (Leica M9)

admin — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 15:58:07 +0000

The view from Apgar would look like this today if not for the rain and fog.

This photo was taken a few evenings ago when there were just enough clouds to add character and just enough ripple on the lake to give it a little bit of texture.

Today we leave here and trek into the upper reaches of the Middle Fork Flathead River, back in the Great Bear Wilderness, where we'll see fewer tourists, no tire tracks, and no wooden viewing platforms over the rapids of the river.

Arrowleaf Balsamroot: Rocky Mountain Tough Guy (Leica M9)

ryan — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 15:00:39 +0000

The Arrowleaf Balsamroot is the first wildflower that shows itself on drier and rockier slopes in the Northern Rockies. It starts to appear in May and really gets going in June.

I think it's the toughest flower in the West. Here's a photo of a posse that dealt with their fair share of Stuff by the time July rolled around.

The flower above is being crowded by thorny things and has already seen its fair share of hail and frost. I know because those veins in its big leaves tell these kinds of stories.

This is another exceptionally edible plant, with a caveat.

Any part of it that you see is nasty and sappy and tastes bitter, like pine-sol, but it won't make you sick at least.

The rest of the parts you can't see - the fleshy roots - are nutritious and tasty, and are quite good when sliced thin and fried in olive oil and black pepper over a Bushbuddy stove.

The Scout Patrol Method and Leadership

ryan — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 20:08:10 +0000

The Patrol Method, and Leadership Development, are the two Methods of Scouting that are sometimes the hardest to implement because parents' instincts are to foster an environment where these methods are hijacked.

This is one of the big reasons why Scouting has evolved into a retraining organization rather than an organization that reinforces what's already going on in the home: there's a lot that has to be undone in order to even reach a foundation from which the Patrol Method and Leadership Development can be implemented.

When an 11- or 12-year old is given the chance to lead a group of peers, and when that group of peers has both responsibility and accountability, they can do great things as kids and become the right types of leaders as adults: leaders that serve, not bark.

Both responsibility and accountability have to be real, however, not contrived - and this is the primary difference between how responsibility and accountability is implemented in the contemporary American Home vs. the Traditional Baden-Powell-esque Scout Patrol.

That's why today, I'm handing the boys a new map, and asking them which trailhead they'd like us to drive them to tomorrow, and which trails they'd like us to follow them on, and which camps they'd like us to pitch our shelters near.

Great Bear Wilderness Trip Planning, Glacier National Park (LEICA M9, ZEISS BIOGON 35/2.8C)

50-Miler Training, Bridger Mountains, Montana

ryan — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 15:08:10 +0000

How do you train a boy to walk a 50-Miler?

In Bozeman, you do it by walking up and down and across the satellite ridges of the Bridger Mountains, where the trails are steep and the mountains have size, and there are enough views so you can forget how much your feet hurt.

The photo shows the Flesh Eating Tick patrol lighter on their feet because the view is good and the 3,000 foot climb is now behind them.

They have warm food in their bellies too, from cooking over fire, which also warms the soul of a boy with cheer.

They get double points for doing it in the rain down in a dark, wet, mossy forest.

Pointedtip Mariposa Lily, Bob Marshall Wilderness

ryan — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 15:08:10 +0000

This post is dedicated to my wife Stephanie because her favorite types of photos that I bring back from my trips are those of wildflowers, and the lily is unique because of its ability to retain its beauty in spite of having to grow in the harsh conditions of an arid, rocky forest. The Mariposa Lily is also known as the Madonna of the Rocks, after da Vinci's famous painting depicting the maternal care of the human race in the midst of earthly turmoil.

The Pointedtip Mariposa (some lazier flower guys call them "Pointed Mariposas" and Patterson may even classify this one as a Cat's Ear) is one of the most beautiful flowers in Montana because the season in which they look really good is pretty short, only a couple of weeks in late June and early July (no relationship here to my wife, FYI, her growing/beauty season is longer). They're mostly found in drier, forested valleys that see a bit of sunshine to the forest floor. I've seen them only in NW Montana - in the Bob Marshall Complex and the Swan Range, along with the Sawtooths in Idaho and the Pasayten in Washington.

Don't let those little dark spots scare you off - they're not bugs, but the nectar glands.

The bulbs are edible, meaty, and probably pretty nutritious. They're OK raw, and taste like a potato. They're awfully good when they are briefly boiled, and exceptional stuffed into the belly cavity of a cutthroat trout caught in the same stream that flows below the higher banks where you'll find the flowers in partial shade of conifers. They're even better soaked in salt, then roasted in tin foil in the coals of a wilderness cookfire. The petals are less flavorful but make for pretty salads, and the flowerbuds are sweet, and wonderful, like an avalanche lily but more filling. Eat them in mid-June, before the flowers open up.

Simplifatico & Artic 1000

admin — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 19:21:06 +0000

To read posts from Ryan Jordan's old blog, visit backpackinglight.typepad.com. Read about his Arctic 1000 traverse, visit Arctic1000.com.