I happened across this article about getting way, way of the trail and it made me wonder how many people cave to the urge to bushwack.
The signs in the parks always say “Please stay on the trail” and I tend to go along with them. The problem with sticking to the trail is that you’ll never see anything beyond the range of your eyesight. The mountain ranges and rock formations visible over the next hill off the trail invariably are cooler than the ones on the trail you’re on now.
And just as you can never see anything from the highway — you have to get off the main routes and check out the back roads to find the cool stuff — you’ll never experience all the wilderness has to offer by staying on the trail.
Some might say “well, you’re hurting the environment if you get off trail.” This is true only if a hundred people come along behind you, and a hundred after them. The average person traveling alone or in a small group won’t do any damage that can’t heal itself (assuming they don’t start any wildfires), and the wilderness usually is so big that no two people will take the same route off-trail.
To me, though, staying on trail is a matter of survival. If you’re three miles from the trail, you’re even farther from help if you fall and break your leg. If you really, truly know how to take care of yourself, to find your way back when lost, to cut off your arm with a pocketknife if need be, then fine, head out there. Just don’t be surprised when nobody finds you.
I am a long-time unrepentent bushwhacker. And I do
a lot of solo hiking. (Although I might draw the line
at slot canyons, given what happened to whats-his-name.)
You don’t live far from one of my favorite Bay Area
hiking spots, which has unparalleled beauty. But by
far the most fantastic spots in that park are not
near any trail. And many of my most memorable hikes
have included a bushwhacking component. A couple of
summers ago I made it a point to hike to the top of
just about every peak, knob, and protuberance I
could find there in a series of weekly outings. It
was a blast! (Although in many cases, as is typical
in the East Bay, the cows have long been there.)
I don’t see myself ever giving up solo bushwhacking.
In the East Bay I see deer (sometimes quite close)
on about 80% of my forays. Try to do that in a group
while on the trail.
I got hooked on bushwhacking when I lived back east
and went to the White Mountains a couple of times a
month. Of course, bushwhacking above tree line is
trivial, just hopping from rock to rock. But often
the evergreen forest is impenetrably dense — until
winter. Then, when a few feet of snow has drifted
in between the trees, everything changes. With a
pair of snowshoes or skis with skins, you can just
about literally go anywhere, and the whole mountain
is your playground. Loads of fun. I’ve done it on
a couple of mountains at Lake Tahoe too, and nothing
compares to skiing down from an 8,000 footer through
open, untracked forest, gliding at whim in any direction.