I spent most of 1976 bumming around Europe with a big heavy external frame pack. By the time I got home I was really sick of lugging that thing around. In the summer of 1977, just after I turned 26, I decided I wanted to go for a little weekend backpack trip in Oregon’s Mt. Jefferson Wilderness. I borrowed my wife’s ruck sack and tossed in a skimpy down bag I’d used for hosteling the summer before in Europe. I also threw in a plastic tube tent, about 15 feet of rope and an early gortex jacket in the unlikely event it rained. I decided not to carry a stove, so I packed a hunk of dried salami, a bag of gorp, some granola and a water bottle. I wore these new shoes I had from a company called Nike that had been formed by some guys I went to college with.
As I recall I left work early on Friday, drove to the trailhead and walked in a few miles to a lake where I slung my tube and crawled in. I woke up just before dawn Saturday morning, stuffed my tube and sleeping bag in my ruck sack and wandered off munching granola. Around 8 or 9 o’clock, after I’d walked 6 or 7 miles I found a big rock in the middle of a meadow and took a break. I pulled out the sleeping bag and draped it over the rock to dry off the dew. As I was relaxing there in the morning sun I encountered something I had never seen in the wilderness before. It was a hiking forest ranger. And she was a girl!
She commenced to lecture me about camping in this fragile meadow. I informed her I hadn’t camped here, I was just drying out my sleeping bag. She asked me where I camped and I named the lake. “Well, how did you get clear over here?” she wanted to know. “I got up early and walked here, ” I said. “You walked seven miles already today?” She didn’t believe me. Why would I lie? “Where’s the rest of your gear?” she asked, looking around. “This is it.” I said. So she gave me a lecture about being prepared and proper gear and whatnot and was on her way.
I packed up my gear and took off. By early afternoon I arrived at my ultimate weekend destination and was nowhere near ready to quit walking. I decided to start back to the trailhead and camp along the way. I sailed down the trail and by dusk was already out to my car. I spent Sunday hiking somewhere else.
After that I sometimes used the rucksack technique when I was going solo and the weather forecast was favorable and sometimes went heavy when I was with a group or heading into bad weather.
In the 80’s and 90’s I got busy with law school, career building and family raising and didn’t do much backpacking. I got the itch to do it again in about 2003 and picked up Jardine’s book. As I began to read, I recalled my great trip in the Mt. Jeff Wilderness and a big smile spread across my face.
I wonder what happened to the forest ranger lady. I’ll bet she’s a granny by now and her knees are shot.
So now I’ve got my Gossamer Gear G4 and a Golite tarp and a Hennessy Hammock and a Super Cat Stove and a pair of trail runners and I’m trying to recapture my lost youth. It’s pathetic, I know, but I’m having fun.