Kindest thing anyone did you for you while backpacking

That’s a nice story and a great idea for a thread. I’ve helped other people out on a number of occasions, but so far nothing significant in return. Hopefully I’ve built up some karma for when I need help.

I screwed up dropping a water cache on a trip and left it a mile further away from our campsite instead of a mile before our campsite.  After knocking out 14 miles I was shot, but two of my buddies did the extra two miles to bring the water back to us.  I normally hike in a group of 3-5 and we all watch out for each other.

I too feel that I’ve built up some karma…A friend and I were doing a 30-mile loop trail and passed a group of 5 guys doing it in the opposite direction.  Later that day we were getting water and noticed a nice pair of Oakley sunglasses hanging from a branch near the water.  I wrapped them in a bandana and put them in my pack.  When we got back to the trailhead the group of guys were just loading up their cars to leave and I asked if any of them had lost a pair of sunglasses.  One guy said he was bummed that he lost his Oakley’s and was amazed (and very happy) when I handed them over.

I was hiking for the first time with a guy I had met (while hiking the previous summer).  We were descending Lamarck Col into Darwin Basin when I took a good tumble banging up both shins.  Shaken and bleeding quite handily he both “talked me down” and patched me up.  As a hiking partner, Art was/is a keeper.

Great topic. Love this. I think that focusing on positive interactions is a healthy reminder of what’s good in the world. My students are currently creating art projects with the loose goal of spreading positivity…

Anyways, I immediately thought of hiking the John Muir Trail with my kid a decade ago. We were running  low on food and protein in particular. A trail friend we had hiked and camped with gave us two protein shakes which were really appreciated on our last night and morning to supplement our meager food supplies.

Short version: I simultaneously broke my fibula and badly sprained my left ankle. I was hiking solo but this happened near Merced Lake high sierra camp. a horse group came through and the wrangler agreed to take my pack up to Vogelsang. I thought I could make it without a pack and then figure out the next move from there. After the horses left I started walking. Very very painful but I was committed at this point. I made it up a thousand feet and several miles. Suddenly, a ranger on horseback leading another horse with a saddle on it (!!!!) came along. I asked if she’d been alerted to my distress. No, she was merely on her way down to her base. She agreed to turn around and let me ride up to Vogelsang on the spare horse. She also radioed a ranger at Tuolumne meadows. He rode up to Vogelsang leading a horse to bring me back to Tuolumne. That’s about 17 miles round trip. when I got to Tuolumne the ranger and another guy asked to see my ankle. Sure!! It looked very very bruised and they were satisfied. All of this was done gratis. A lot of work by the rangers. Oh, and I’ve NEVER run into a ranger leading a saddled horse out on trail, as far as I recall. Anyway they saved my butt. The injury was worse than I expected, as confirmed at ER at Mammoth Hospital.

Nothing so dramatic, but as my wife and I were starting out on a backpacking trip in the Three Sisters in Oregon, she stopped dead on the trail and told me that she had forgotten to pack the gas canister for our stove.

I race back a couple hundred yards to the trailhead to catch a father/son team who were just packing up their car to leave.  Yes, they had a half-full canister from their trip, and they were generous enough to let us have it for free.

In June 1977 a friend and I flew to Atlanta with the plan to hitchhike to Amicoloa Falls and walk as far North on the AT as we could during our summer High School break. We got public transport at the airport as far North as it would take us on the Interstate, but we were still within the greater Atlanta area, and a long way from Springer Mountain. It was hot, humid, and no one would give us long haired Yankees a ride (though we did get profanity and beer bottles hurled at us from well wishers). Finally, after several hours, a mail carrier pulled over and asked us where we were going. We told him. He said, “hop in,” which we gratefully did. He said, “first I’ve got to go home and get the station wagon.” He took us to his house, loaded up his family and us in the station wagon, and drove us the nearly 75 miles North to the Southern Terminus of the AT. He pressed us with food and some money. What a beautiful man. I’ve never forgotten him. I turned 16 years a few days later on the GA/NC border.

25 years ago this year, a buddy and I – both from south AL -were backpacking in GTNP. My knee started nagging me just before Fox Creek Pass, so we deviated from our original plan of hiking the shelf and headed down into the canyon instead. That night a girl who was solo-hiking pitched camp near us and we chatted her up. She was headed to the same trailhead we were and agreed to drive us back to Jackson since our shuttle was no longer an option.

The next morning, we all set out together, but she was a much stronger/faster hiker than we were, especially with me nursing a bum knee, and we soon lost sight of her. We had given up on our new ride back to Jackson, but to our surprise she was sitting on the hood of her car waiting on us when we finally made it to the trailhead. On the ride back, we not only learned that she waited over an hour for us to exit the wilderness to keep her promise to give us a ride, but it turned out she was in college with my then girlfriend and lived in the same dorm.

Small world, good people, and great memories. Sometimes the stars just line up for you when you’re on a charmed trip.

Not a favor directly to me, but to all hikers: A guy hiking the north rim of Yosemite Valley just as the snow melted and trail opened in 1986 started filling a trash bag with every bit of litter he passed.  A dozen miles later, he deposited a huge Hefty trash bag of trash at the first garbage can down in the Valley.  Didn’t say anything about it, just did it.

We were sea kayaking in Abel Tasman in New Zealand and chatted with a guy from Christchurch who invited us to couch surf when we got there.  Having been warned in advance that super friendly Kiwis are just super friendly and not axe murders, we did.  He took us out on local trail, we ended up at a remote hut for someone’s birthday party, were treated like part of the group by the locals.  It was nice.

This one time… at band camp…

(sorry, couldn’t resist)

I did a dumb thing once, hiking in Tasmania in Winter. I left my damp boots outside the tent overnight and they froze. My friend refrained from rolling her eyes at me – very kind, as she had warned me they might freeze.

I did eventually get them on the next morning to walk out …but they were still a bit frozen and my feet got painfully cold walking in the snow (30 years ago, I was pretty ignorant).

I took my boots off to warm my toes in my hands. My friend took my icy feet and placed them underneath her clothes against her warm, toasty stomach and armpits 😳.

So my toes survived. Talk about personal sacrifice!  I’m still in awe.

I’ve had to put frozen boots on in the morning too.  Not the smartest thing but I survived