I'm walking up Donahue Pass in the Sierras with a 25 lb. pack on my back, following my husband for part of his 220-mile trek on the John Muir Trail. After five torturous uphill hours, the top of the pass is in sight. I step in a small patch of snow and sink to my knees. What the hell am I doing here? At 68, shouldn't I be sitting in a deck chair on a cruise ship? I force myself to my feet and adjust my pack. I wish I had a horse.
For several years now a group of my friends have hired a horse packer to take our gear into the mountains and provide bear barrels and a porta-potty. All we do is walk to the campsite, carrying light daypacks. At the end of our stay, the packer shows up, picks up our gear, and takes it back to the pack station.
We have become shamelessly indulgent with age, hauling in a caravan of creature comforts to ease the stress on our joints. We have chairs, tables, a sun shower, camp stoves, a gazebo, pillows, air mattresses, and mountains of food. We need two mules to carry our wine, one for the white and one for the red.
Our indulgences are less compensation for the limitations of age than they are symbols of our determination to carry on in spite of a rash of infirmities that pale in the alpine glow of the Eastern Sierras. There is nothing like a dozen varieties of wildflowers clustered on a tiny outcropping of moss in a gin clear lake to put life in perspective.
Pack trips come with many options: You can hire a cook and a guide, settle in one spot or move from place to place. If walking isn't your thing, you can ride a horse or mule.
I've walked the 50-mile loop through the High Sierra Camps in Yosemite National Park. It's a challenging trek with elevations as high as 12,000 feet, but I didn't need to carry a tent, cooking gear or food. At the end of the day I had a hot shower (available in all but one camp), a hearty dinner in the dining hall with other hikers, and a cot in a four person tent heated by a wood stove. In the morning, camp staff served a full breakfast and sold bag lunches for the trail.
Inn to Inn trekking is available in Colorado, Montana, Oregon, New Hampshire, Vermont and Wyoming as well as Canada, Europe, and Asia. I've trekked in Nepal, a heady mix of mountains and culture, with home stay accommodations along the route [0].
Trailside Epiphanies
Wilderness walking is both motivation and reward for staying fit. But, for me, the real payoff is time to sit on a rock and contemplate the meaning of life. I carry these small epiphanies with me:
•Trekking is like life and life is like trekking: moments of ecstasy and awe alternate with stretches of frustration, hopelessness, and dogged persistence.
•Keep your eye on the trail. Time slows when it is filled with the present.
•The way out is always faster than the way in.
•A human life span is merely one of a variety of earthly tenures. Sierra Junipers have been around since Abraham Lincoln was president and there are butterflies that will not last from sunrise to sunset.
Over the Top
I brush the snow off my butt, put my head down, and aim for the top. When I look up, I'm at the pass, mountains all around me. We start down the other side. Wildflowers tumble beside the trail and streams sheet across the granite, pooling and cascading among the rocks. My feet are sore, but my eyes and my heart are full. I'm not yet ready for that cruise.
– Ellen Kirschman, Ph.D., started backpacking in her fifties. She's a public safety psychologist and the author of two books: I Love a Cop: What Police Families Need to Know (revised 2007) and I Love a Fire Fighter: What the Family Needs to Know (2004). Visit Ellen's website: ellenkirschman.com [1].
Learn More About Wilderness Walking
» Resources: [1] Helpful books, websites, and organizations for the novice hiker.
» Safety Tips: [1] Follow these precautions whenever you hit the trail.