August 25th, 2013: My pack list has undergone its usual last minute growth spurt. The forecast for the hiking area may be dry and sunny, but the air current is from the north east. We'll be camping either near the top or at the foot of the slopes, where we expect to be able to find some level surfaces for our ground dwellers to pitch their tents. At the top we may be exposed to the wind, and the foot may turn out to be a cold trap. Things might get quite a bit colder than some of the participants may be expecting, so I'm packing all the cold weather clothes I could possibly need and then some. I'm also keeping my food supply squarely on the safe side. I'm not a light weight hiker by any stretch, but I'm getting slightly worried that this mountain of stuff will be heavier than I'm comfortable with carrying.
The characteristics of outdoor gear seem to be distributed along three axes: functionality, weight and price, and a piece of gear can usually only be optimal in two of those three dimensions. Either it's useful and light but expensive, useful and cheap but heavy, or cheap and light, but not very useful. Something has to be useful to bring it along, so it becomes a matter of weight vs. cost. I don't have a ton of disposable income, so the balance is tipped toward cheap, heavy stuff. But down does make me jealous.
August 26th, 2013: I managed to fit everything I want to take with me into my backpack. Including water and food, it weighs in at a hefty nineteen and a half kilos (43 lb), but it sits on my back quite comfortably. Besides, the distances we're planning to hike aren't that ambitious. I'm quite confident that even if I turn out to be the slowest hiker in the group, we can still easily make it with a few hours of daylight to spare every day.
Given the terrain, we probably could do about twenty-five kilometres (15 miles) a day, if we don't want to hike after dinner, but that would mean about eight hours of near non-stop walking. People aren't going to enjoy that. We want to have a good time, we're not out to set some kind of record, there's no deadline we have to make except those we set for ourselves, so we set it so we can make it at our leisure. After all, what good is hiking and camping if you don't have time to swap tall tales around the camp-fire?
17 Sept 2013
14 Sept 2013
Ardennes 2013, part 1: Past Mistakes
Mid July, 2013: Preparations for our four day hike through the Belgian Ardennes are well underway. We're a loosely organised group of I guess about twenty hiking and camping enthusiasts, and by now I guess I'm one of the central figures.
The Ardennes may well be unfamiliar to my dear readers. According to Wikipedia, they're a mountain range, but even this ultimate repository of human knowledge can't seem to decide whether the peaks are mountains or hills. I don't particularly care either way. It's just walking up or down an incline. The inclines we'll be walking up and down start at about three hundred meters (1000 ft) above sea level, and reach up to about five hundred and seventy meters (1900 ft).
We've hiked in the area before. Last year, a group of fourteen of us spent three rain soaked days hiking a thirty kilometre (20 miles) route. We'd made some mistakes in our preparations, and not everyone finished the hike. One of the most glaring mistakes we made was not thinking about what we were looking for in a potential camp site. Because we hadn't, we ended up spending the first night on a slope, right in the way of streams of rainwater eager to get into our shelters. Some of us took a train back home on the second day. Wet feet, wet sleeping gear and a sleepless night can have that effect. Still, some of us learned something, most of us had a very good time, and everyone gained some very fond memories.
This time, we have a pretty good idea of where we'll be setting up camp, and we've been more specific in telling new participants what to expect, what to prepare for. We've made sure that everyone has at least thought about what they're going to do if we have to set up or break up camp in the rain, how they're going to deal with blisters and other minor injuries, that kind of thing. Of course we're still going to have to deal with unexpected circumstances, but that's one of the things that makes hiking interesting.
There's always something you learn on a hike. Of course, there's always something you learn whatever you do, but the things you learn on hikes somehow seem to be more likely to stick. Most of the time it's small, practical stuff; tieing your shoelaces with a square knot, getting more comfortable wielding a machete, having a poncho and tarp immediately available in your pack. Sometimes it's a little more involved; identifying the optimal route by looking at altitude changes, terrain and the type of path, or discovering the peace of mind gained by having one of the stronger hikers take the rear, so you don't risk losing a straggler. My favourite kind of learning experience during hiking, however, has to do with the mindset of hiking. Last year it was a real eye opener to find out how much I enjoy the boredom of walking up a steep hill. On my first multi-day hike, I found out how it really isn't such a big deal to be the weakest, least experienced hiker in the group. If you're tired and need a break, the rest of the group will understand.
I don't know what lessons this hike will bring, but I'm eager to find out.
The Ardennes may well be unfamiliar to my dear readers. According to Wikipedia, they're a mountain range, but even this ultimate repository of human knowledge can't seem to decide whether the peaks are mountains or hills. I don't particularly care either way. It's just walking up or down an incline. The inclines we'll be walking up and down start at about three hundred meters (1000 ft) above sea level, and reach up to about five hundred and seventy meters (1900 ft).
We've hiked in the area before. Last year, a group of fourteen of us spent three rain soaked days hiking a thirty kilometre (20 miles) route. We'd made some mistakes in our preparations, and not everyone finished the hike. One of the most glaring mistakes we made was not thinking about what we were looking for in a potential camp site. Because we hadn't, we ended up spending the first night on a slope, right in the way of streams of rainwater eager to get into our shelters. Some of us took a train back home on the second day. Wet feet, wet sleeping gear and a sleepless night can have that effect. Still, some of us learned something, most of us had a very good time, and everyone gained some very fond memories.
This time, we have a pretty good idea of where we'll be setting up camp, and we've been more specific in telling new participants what to expect, what to prepare for. We've made sure that everyone has at least thought about what they're going to do if we have to set up or break up camp in the rain, how they're going to deal with blisters and other minor injuries, that kind of thing. Of course we're still going to have to deal with unexpected circumstances, but that's one of the things that makes hiking interesting.
There's always something you learn on a hike. Of course, there's always something you learn whatever you do, but the things you learn on hikes somehow seem to be more likely to stick. Most of the time it's small, practical stuff; tieing your shoelaces with a square knot, getting more comfortable wielding a machete, having a poncho and tarp immediately available in your pack. Sometimes it's a little more involved; identifying the optimal route by looking at altitude changes, terrain and the type of path, or discovering the peace of mind gained by having one of the stronger hikers take the rear, so you don't risk losing a straggler. My favourite kind of learning experience during hiking, however, has to do with the mindset of hiking. Last year it was a real eye opener to find out how much I enjoy the boredom of walking up a steep hill. On my first multi-day hike, I found out how it really isn't such a big deal to be the weakest, least experienced hiker in the group. If you're tired and need a break, the rest of the group will understand.
I don't know what lessons this hike will bring, but I'm eager to find out.
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