I love the idea of backpacking – it’s a self-sufficient form of travel that forces you to examine what you actually need to survive. In 2006 and 2007, I went on a kick of trying to pare down everything I owned into what would fit into a backpack, with the idea of riding the rails someday. I eventually came to realize that it’s not 1930, which is when the interest in backpacking for vacation purposes began.
Over the past few years, The Bearded One and I have taken some baby steps toward extended backpacking trips, doing a few hike-in camping trips, traveling to camp with just a pack (read about our Colorado journey here), and, finally, planning an extended camping trip for March to Big Bend that will involve at least two three-night backcountry trips.
With the idea of taking a maiden voyage to see what backpacking would feel like, we recently loaded up our packs and headed out to the primitive camping at Pedernales Falls State Park, one of my favorite within-driving-distance parks. The overnight experience and 7 miles of hiking was full of lessons and raccoons.
Lesson 1: It’s Not Supposed to Be Comfortable
The Bearded One had done a couple primitive trips where he packed everything in and out, but this was a first for me. I bought a pack with the help of my REI member rebate last year and was excited to try it out for the first time. With my new pack loaded with 35 pounds and his well-used pack loaded with 50, we set out on the 2 mile hike to the primitive camping area.
The 35 pounds didn’t feel that bad when we started walking. The Bearded One helped me adjust it, telling me that the higher it could sit above my hips, the more comfortable it would be. I made adjustments along the way, tightening here and shifting there, poking this part out and sucking this part in, lifting this and dropping that. It reminded me of being in yoga class, when you’re supposed to let your mind and your breath forget that your body is uncomfortable, knowing the discomfort would pass.
Another difficult thing was figuring out how to balance. Packs are supposed to be weighted with the lightest stuff (clothes, sleeping bag) on bottom and the heaviest stuff (water, tools) on top. This top heaviness means learning a new center of gravity – instead of balancing with the middle of your body, you have to be conscious of not toppling over head first. It took some getting used to, especially going up and down hills. The main thing that kept me upright was thinking about how difficult it would be to get off the ground with 35 pounds strapped to me.
Lesson 2: Don’t Panic About Other Campers Trying to Murder You
When we arrived at the trailhead parking area, we noticed only one other couple about to set out for the camping area. They didn’t have packs, just a couple of backpacks and sleeping bags and other supplies that they carried. They didn’t even have sneakers or hiking boots – the woman was wearing a pair of casual dress boots – and they said they were surprised to find that the site was 2 miles from the parking area. I wondered why they didn’t just go to the drive-in campsites and came to the natural conclusion that it was because they planned to kill us while we slept.
The Bearded One and I hiked along the path pleasantly enough, both adjusting and readjusting and keeping the conversation going to help us forget the fact that the adjustments still didn’t make carrying the heavy packs any easier. The couple that we’d seen in the parking lot passed us after a couple of minutes and I felt relieved to know they weren’t following us to our gruesome deaths.
As we walked, we noticed a map that someone had left on the trail, so we picked it up and kept going. When we had almost reached the start of the primitive camping area, we saw the couple again. They had lost their map, consequently gotten lost and wanted to borrow our map and, oh my god, the guy is carrying a giant sword, no wait, a bamboo walking stick. We returned their map to them and kept along but now they were behind us again, plotting out just how they’d push us off the rock face into the river bed once we reached the camping area.
I’ve always loved horror movies and I’ve always loved the outdoors. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for me to separate the two. I remember being probably 13 years old and sleeping at a family friend’s house; I was in their living room, which had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the forest. I was convinced that something was lurking in the dark, and every time I saw a reflection of the moon, I was certain it was the gleam of an axe. I ended up sleeping on the floor of the guest room my parents were staying in. Somehow, 20 years later, that real-life fear of sleep-away camp horror movies is just as persistent. The second couple never did come to murder us, but something did try to get in our tent.
Lesson 3: Don’t Try a New Trail in the Dark
We made it to the primitive camping area and found a beautiful spot where the bluff jutted out over the river. We had a view of the moon rising against the sunset colors, and it reminded me that the closeness to nature and the sights were worth the discomfort of lugging around so much weight.
Very unwisely, we waited until after the sun had gone down and we’d eaten our rehydrated food to go find the compostable toilet half a mile away from where we were sleeping. The path to the toilet was parallel, but uphill, from the main campsite path. As we walked along the main path, we noticed some unmarked trails going up the hill. As we turned the corner and began walking along the toilet path, we noticed some unmarked trails going down the hill. We figured they must be the same trails and assumed they were there to allow campers to cut through the woods, making the way to the bathroom much shorter.
On our way back, we chose one of the paths and headed downhill. We walked out of the woods onto an area of the path that didn’t look familiar, especially in the dark. We began walking in the direction we thought our tent was situated and stumbled into an area that seemed even less familiar. So we started walking in the opposite direction, and I began mildly panicking. Luckily, we saw the lights of the now-less-murderous-seeming other couple and knew we were walking in the wrong direction. We headed back in the right direction and learned another lesson – put something reflective on your tent. It was almost impossible to spot. Even shining the light into the camping area, you had to directly hit the tent to see it.
Lesson 4: Animals Want Your Food
Back at the campsite, relieved to not be lost and not be murdered, we settled in for sleep. We placed both packs outside the tent under a rainproof tarp and hit the sleeping bags. The Bearded One was out like a light, leaving me to lay in the dark, wondering what every noise was. Soon enough, I had plenty to wonder about.
I started hearing rustling on the ground outside the tent that led to rustling of the tarp covering the packs. I suddenly remembered the paper bag of trail mix inside my pack that I’d meant to put in a Tupperware before we left that morning. I woke The Bearded One, who retrieved the trail mix and a stray orange we’d forgotten, brought them into the tent and then passed out again.
I lay there, trying to get comfortable when I started hearing the same rustling of small paws, followed by some chirping. I’d never heard raccoons speaking to each other and only recognized the sound based on the subtitled scenes from The Great Outdoors. I could see these raccoons outside my tent with their own subtitles. “Do you think it’s in here?” “Yeah, I can smell the trail mix next to her feet at the bottom of the tent. Let’s chew through and get it.”
Afraid the raccoons would mistakenly bite my foot and give me rabies while trying to get the food that was now inside the tent, I tried to think of what to do. In the meantime, the raccoons were trying to get under the tent’s rain fly. Making loud noises and shaking the tent didn’t seem to have much effect on them. So I finally thought that if I slept on top of the food, maybe I could drown out its smell. I put the food in my sleeping bag, cinched it as tight as it would go at the top and it worked. The raccoons left and I immediately started thinking of odor-proof food storage options for our March trip.
Lesson 5: It’ll All Be Worth It
The backpacking trips we have planned in Big Bend will consist mostly of doing about four miles a day, so when we awoke the next day and didn’t feel too sore, we decided to do the five mile loop around Tobacco Mountain, one of the trails we’d never done at Pedernales Falls before. It was one of my favorite areas of the park.
The trail takes you by a couple of springs where fresh, cool water trickles from rocks into puddles that trickle into streams cut into the rocks by who-knows-how-many-years of water pushing its way through. The sites along the ridge are beautiful as well, but one of my favorite parts was seeing the old Trammell Homestead.
The ruins of a small brick house built around 1870 stand next to a stone wall, which were still commonplace before barbed wire took over around the turn of the 19th century. The Trammells had settled on one side of the Pedernales River and then moved to the other side, next to a spring, during a bad drought year. Hikers have gathered old rusty nails that probably used to be used in the roof from around the house into a collection on the stone ruins. It’s an amazing reminder of what the area must’ve been like to early settlers who didn’t have the luxury of ergonomic backpacks, compostable toilets and easy access to running water.
Lesson 6: Read Lesson 1 Again
The first half of the five-mile hike wasn’t so bad. Like the day before, I simply kept readjusting – as one part of my body got tired, I moved the stress to another part. But by Mile four, every region of my back was on strike; no matter where I shifted the weight or how I moved myself, everything hurt.
“Breathe deeply, drink more water, you can do this because you’re strong, quit complaining” was on repeat in my head. It worked. Again like in yoga, deep breathing brought me peace, and reminding myself that temporary discomfort is, indeed, temporary helped me bear it better.
We got back to the car, took our packs off, let our backs cool and we stretched. We had learned some lessons and knew that we needed to do a couple more practices and some strength-building before Big Bend. Thinking about the sites we’d see, though, we knew it’d be worth it.
