Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide Quotes

“There are different kinds of being lost, ranging from momentary disorientation to the complete, all-out, am-I-even-on-planet-Earth variety.”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide

“If you don't see birds, try calling them. You don't need to have a bird-calling whistle, and you don't even have to know any special calls. One sound that attracts avians: Call "pish, pish, pish" several times. Another is loudly kissing the back of your hand.”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide

“My first visit to grizzly bear country was a hike through Yellowstone National Park, and my nerves were frayed by rumors and warnings about a mauling that had occurred that same week on a trail just south of the park. Dan and I made so much noise--banging our walking sticks, talking loudly, stomping our feet--that we nervously joked that we would be the first people in history to cross the park without seeing any wild animals at all.”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide

“But most of the rest of us opt for economy of effort. After all, just about anything tastes good after a hard day of hiking!
Start simple, and look to other hikers for ideas. Do not, however, stare into their food pot like a hungry puppy. Be forewarned. Hikers will share advice, stories, and more advice. They will help you set up your tent, get your balky stove to light, and untangle your bear-bagging rope. They will not, as a general rule, share their food.”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide

“One of the questions that I am almost in aria of asked about backpacking is, "Aren't you afraid?" Generally, people have something specific in mind when they ask the question, and generally, it's something on the order of snakes, bears, or criminals. I'm not particularly afraid of snakes; in most parts of the United States, bears are more of a nuisance than a threat; and I've never met a criminal in the woods.”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide

“My wife and I can't recall how many years we've been married, but we'll never forget our first backpacking trip together. We'd just begun dating and I was her trail-hardened outdoorsman, a knight in shining Cordura, the guy who could handle any wilderness emergency. She was my...well, let's just say I was bent on making a good impression. This was her first backpacking experience and I wanted to have many more with her as my hiking partner.
I'd checked and double-checked everything--trail conditions, equipment, weather forecast. I even bought a new stove for the occasion. We set off under overcast skies with packs loaded and spirits high. There was precipitation in the forecast, but it was November and too early for snow, I assured her. (Did I mention that we were just a few miles south of Mount Washington, home to the worst, most unpredictable weather in the Northeast?) As we climbed the few thousand feet up a granite ridge, the trail steadily steepened and we strained a bit under our loads. On top, a gentle breeze pushed a fluffy, light snowfall. The flakes were big and chunky, the kind you chase with your mouth open. Certainly no threat, I told her matter-of-factly.
After a few miles, the winds picked up and the snowflakes thickened into a swirling soup. The trail all but dissolved into a wall of white, so I pulled out my compass to locate the three-sided shelter that was to be our base for the night. Eventually we found it, tucked alongside a gurgling freshet.
The winds were roaring no, so I pitched our tent inside the shelter for added protection. It was a tight fit, with the tent door only two feet from the log end-wall, but at least we were out of the snowy gale. To ward off the cold and warm my fair belle, I pulled my glittering stove from its pouch, primed it, and confidently christened the burner with a match. She was awestruck by my backwoods wizardry. Color me smug and far too confident. That's when I noticed it: what appeared to be water streaming down the side of the stove.
My new cooker's white-gas fuel was bathing the stove base. It was also drenching the tent floor between us and the doorway--the doorway that was zipped tightly shut. A headline flashed through my mind: "Brainless Hikers Toasted in White Mountains."
The stove burst into flames that ran up the tent wall. I grabbed a wet sock, clutched the stove base with one hand, and unzipped the tent door with the other. I heaved the hissing fireball through the opening, assuming that was the end of the episode, only to hear a thud as it hit the shelter wall before bouncing back inside to melt some more nylon. My now fairly unimpressed belle grabbed a pack towel and doused the inferno. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, while I swallowed a pound of three of pride.
We went on to have a thoroughly disastrous outing. The weather pounded us into submission. A full day of storm later with no letup in sight, we decided to hike out. Fortunately, that slippery, slithery descent down a snowed-up, iced-over trail was merely the end of our first backpacking trip together and not our relationship.

--John Viehman”
― Karen Berger, Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide