As a resident of Salt Lake, I live a short drive from national forests and wilderness areas. The mountains of Utah are some of the most beautiful country you'll ever see. However, on a regular basis, we hear stories about people getting lost in the mountains. Getting lost in the woods is optional but avoiding it requires some basic planning ahead and exercising some foresight and wisdom.
Nature is dangerous. We human beings look at it and see whispering trees and pristine lakes and think that nature is entirely benign. It fools us.
Over the weekend, I went hiking with family and friends. The trailhead in the high Uintas was over 9000 feet above sea level. As we hiked, one of the friends related a story from a few years ago; a mother and daughter were lost in the same mountains. They had rented a car and a condo in a ski resort community. Wanting to see the mountains, they drove into the Uintas, parked their car and went for a hike. They didn't tell anyone where they were going. They didn't have proper hiking shoes, back packs or a supply of water. They were novices and apparently their trailmap was found in their rental car. It wasn't until the car rental agency began wondering what happened to the car that anyone started looking for them, at which time they'd been missing for about five days. Their bodies were found the following spring.
It's not just tourists. On a wearingly regular basis, we hear about locals who are lost. The boyscouts seem to lose member annually.
I grew up in a mountain valley in Utah. When I was young, I rode my horse in the mountains. I've spent many, many hours in the Uinta mountains. I have hiked the Grand Canyon twice and a favorite family activity is leaving early on a Saturday or Sunday to reach a Uinta trailhead, hike for several hours before returning home for a giant pot of soup or chile. The high mountains pose risks that even seasoned backpackers and hikers underestimate.
Despite living in the area, hiking several days a week and volunteering with the local Forest Service office, my parents got lost in the high Uintas a few years ago. They took a wrong turn, lost the trail and ended up on a cliff over looking their destination. Fortunately, they were able to use their destination as a landmark and begin a return hike. They found a trail they knew and got back to their car. All told, what had been planned as a 3 hour hike turned into a 10 hour hike which, had they been delayed, would have meant a ver long, cold night in the wilderness. This is one reason I keep their life insurance premiums current.
On a recent hike in the Uintas, our party ran across a party from Maryland. Their plan was to hike to a specific lake, light a fire cook their dinner, watch the sun go down, then hike back. We had a nice chat at the trailhead.
It was the end of September. In the high Uintas in autumn, temperatures can drop into the low 30s at night. It gets very dark and very cold in the mountains (even in July and August, nights can be cold in the high mountains). This group of well meaning folks were almost a caricature of city slickers in the woods. As they set off on the trail, three of them wore flip flops rather than hiking shoes/boots. Most of them didn't even have packs. Two of them were wearing fanny packs. None of them had jackets or warm clothing. A few of them had 12 ounce bottles of water in their pockets. Only two had actual backpacks (presumably with their meal). Watching them set off down the train, I felt a pang of worry. The trail they'd chosen isn't notably difficult but difficulty is entirely relative. It is a mountain trail with total elevation changes over the trail around 2000 feet (lots of up and down). The trailhead is 9000 feet above sea level, the high point is nearly ten thousand feet above sea level. It's not a gentle walk in the woods, and they were not Thoreau at Walden Pond. Since they weren't on the news I'm guessing they made it out, but I'm sure it wasn't the experience they were expecting and certainly they weren't prepared for it.
On my second hike of the Grand Canyon, I saw a couple head into the canyon (heading twoard Havasupai, where there are services and lodging) with nothing more than lunch and a small bottle of water each. It was 100 degrees when they started their 9 mile hike. I drank the contents of a 50 ounce Camelbak of water on that hike and still felt dehydrated. On the other hand, that was the same day I saw the hot guy skinny dipping in a pool by the trail, so it was far from a wasted day (let's just say that I wouldn't have kicked him out of the sleeping bag for eating crackers and leave it at that).
I'm not a backpacking and back country expert. When I hike, I do so in a group, with more experienced hikers. I take more water than I actually need, I carry warm clothing and food and a map; I have solid hiking books that protect my ankles. When I venture onto new trails, I do so using Forest Service maps and in the company of more experienced hikers. I've been lucky but I also plan ahead. Trust me, more than once, I've stopped on a trail and waited until I see members of my party.
Utah's Bald Mountain is a popular and easy hike. The trail rises 1250 feet over the course of two miles. It's scenic. Near the top, there's a short stretch which makes me dizzy every time - one the right hand side it drops a thousand feet, on the left there are large boulders. I have to stop every time and rest before I wlak that short stretch - it may be all of 20 feet long but I get vertigo on it. I'm dizzy writing about it. The first time I hiked it, one of the more experienced hikers with me said, "There's no hurry. Take your time." I waited for five minutes, felt my heart rate return to normal then crossed. I realize how easy it would have been to slip and fall on that short stretch if I hadn't stopped and got my balance first. I think lots of folks forget that nature is dangerous.
I see folks who I think should know better, engaging in dangerous behavior in the forests and deserts. A few years ago, my family vacationed in Southern Utah for Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving day, we set out on a hike in Zion National Park. It was a beautiful, clear and cool day - the sky a brilliant cerulean that looked as if you could dive into the sky and sail throug it. As we hiked, it got warmer. We were soon carrying more clothes than we were wearing. Then we stepped into a narrow canyon the sun hadn't yet reached. It was cold. We got out of the canyon and it was hot again. As we hiked out, we ran across a group of four hikers. One of their members was in obvious distress, the others weren't far behind. They were beet red, panting for air and out of water. Between the elevation (the park gate is about 4000 feet above sea level; Angel's Landing nearly 6000) and the desert environment with the strong sun and low humidity, this group had nearly gotten into very real trouble. Fortunately, they were smart enough to stay on the trail. As we hiked back with them, they talked about their backpacking experiences - almost all of them in the Midwest. They'd underestimated the strenuousness of desert hiking . The simple change in elevation increased their water consumption more than they'd planned and they ran out of water long before they ran out of trail.
Getting lost in the woods is optional. Running out of water is optional. I have a friend who went backpacking in Southern Utah's deserts for a month. She and her husband had an amazing time. They planned ahead, prepared for weeks checking out maps, making usre they had the right equipment and knew when and where they could purchase additional supplies; they mapped out trails and stayed in touch with the forest service. Had they gone missing, people knew where to start looking for them. We're not all Bear Grylls and we don't have to pretend to be him. Plan ahead, be wise, slow down. And don't get me started on those free range morons who want to pose for pictures with the bison in Yellowstone.