To Err or Not to Err

One of the perplexities of hiking is knowing when to trust your judgment and when to question it.  Usually, I make a mistake of questioning my judgment when I can rely on it.  For instance, once I decided to hike to Casey Meadows from a different direction than usual.   Using Topo, a computer program that allows the user to trace routes with a computer mouse and calculate mileage on USGS quadrant maps, I created a loop route in the Elkhorns: Casey Meadows Trail No. 343 to Willard Creek Trail No. 302 to Tepee Creek Trail No. 301 to the upper end of Casey Meadows Trail No. 343 and out.  I traced this route with Topo which indicated the route was ten miles long. 

After determining the route would be ten miles with Topo’s tracing tool, I either fell victim to terminal wishful thinking or had a brain spasm.  “No,” I thought, “the route can’t be that long.  I must not be using Topo correctly.”  I traced the route again, using a different starting point and came up with seven miles.  Then I lured three unfortunate people into joining me on a seven mile hike.  These unfortunates were my hiking partner Gail, Kristy, and Anna. 

Our hike was uneventful as we branched off onto the Willard Creek Trail.  I was uneasy because the distance to Trail No. 301 seemed longer than I had planned.  Tension reigned, so we paused and someone suggested Kristy lead us in some yoga warm-ups.  Strange, I know, but why not?  On the trails I usually hike there are rarely any other people to observe eccentric behavior. 

After a rest, yoga and a snack, we pressed on.

Another perplexity of hiking is that the trail of choice is always green, clear of obstacles, and generally wonderful on a Forest Service map.  Then you take the hike and get a dose of reality.

Branching onto Tepee Creek Tr. No. 301 reality set in.  The day was June 6.  The trail wound through the massive 1988 burn.  Wind had flung dead trees everywhere across the trail, and the Forest Service Trail maintenance crews had not had time to clear it.   If the Army Rangers ever need an obstacle course guaranteed to drive recruits to collapse, this part of the trail would be just what they are looking for.   Every five feet or less, trees were down across the trail.  We were climbing over, crawling under, and sliding across, making painfully slow progress. 

In a state of exhaustion, we decided to stop and eat lunch, even if was 10:30 in the morning.  During lunch, we realized we either had to plot a different course or go back.   Guiltily, we left the trail and tip toed up a beautiful alpine meadow to the top of the mountain. 

Now, we needed to find the trail again. At this point Anna, who had just returned from an 18 month church mission that did not include exercise of any kind, lost confidence in my abilities as a guide.  She had a point, I am sorry to say.   I have difficulty locating a paved trail marked with fluorescent tape and flashing neon lights.  Fortunately, my hiking partner Gail has second sight when it comes to trails.  She notices a bent blade of grass and picks out a trail, even if the trail is a half mile away.   In no time, Gail had located the path and we marched down into Casey Meadows.

At Casey Meadows, I realized Anna showed wisdom in questioning my leadership abilities.    I looked at my GPS and noticed we had already hiked seven miles.  I should have trusted my first calculations.  It was three miles to the car, for a total of ten miles. 

To add insult to injury, Anna’s energy was depleted, and Gail remembered that she needed to be in East Helena in an hour to babysit her grandchildren.  Hoofing it out of Casey Meadows in double-time, I sprained my ankle.  I taped it with duct tape, and we loped down the trail.  A quarter of a mile from the end of the trail, Anna cornered me.  Under penalty of death, she extracted a promise that we were on the right trail and were almost finished.   A ten mile hike after 18 months of no exercise was beyond unreasonable.  I am astonished that Anna did not offer even one whining remark that day.

A week later, I asked Anna if she would like to join me on another seven mile hike on the Ridge Trail.  Under oath, I testified that the hike was seven miles long and not a mile more.  Oddly enough, Anna was busy that day.