Colin Fletcher

[quasimodo1]

This charismatic man wrote some of the great hiking books of the twentieth century. While looking up some information on him, it turns out he just had an untimely death. "The Complete Walker" remains the definitive instruction for backpacking. He hiked through the Mara region of Kenya without any personal protection, he solo hiked though the Death Valley, the Grand Canyon and many other wilderness areas. Adios to the man who showed many of us how to hike with a house on your back. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/19/sports/othersports/19fletcher.html {quasimodo1}

[quasimodo1]

Colin Fletcher, March 1922-June 2007

Colin Fletcher, author of The Complete Walker and The Man Who Walked Through Time and the person many consider to be the father of modern backpacking, died June 12 of natural causes at the Community Hospital of Monterey Peninsula, CA. He was 85.

By , June 14, 2007




"Every walk of life falls under the sway of the Testicular Imperative: Either you have the world by them, or it has you." Colin Fletcher, The Complete Walker IV

[quasimodo1]

The following is a partial listing of books written by Colin Fletcher: THE COMPLETE WALKER / THE MAN WHO WALKED THROUGH TIME(the story of the first trip afoot through the Grand Canyon) / RIVER: ONE MAN'S JOURNEY DOWN THE COLORADO / THOUSAND MILE SUMMER / SECRET WORLDS OF COLIN FLETCHER / THE MAN FROM THE CAVE / THE WINDS OF MARA / QUIET LIGHT / BANNING THE BOMB? / WALKING THE GREEN WORLD

[Sancho]

Hey Quasimodo, I owe a debt of gratitude to Colin Fletcher for all of the good advice he has passed on to me over the years. I have a couple of well thumbed editions of his “Complete Walker.”

A few years ago there was an interview in Backpacker magazine with Chip Rawlins, the co-author of his last edition of “The Complete Walker,” Chip was telling a story about Colin and his recent stay in the hospital. I’ve probably got this all wrong and mixed-up, and I can’t even really remember what Colin Fletcher was hospitalized for – Coma, Hit by a Car, Fell off a Cliff, Cerebral Hematoma, some damned thing, - anyway when he came to, he was told that one of the young nurse caretakers had admired his legs while he was out. At that point, still bedridden, all he wanted to do was meet his young admirer.

A man to the end. R.I.P. and Happy trails.

[quasimodo1]

To Sancho: Learning how to backpack and do serious wilderness travell is something I actually learned from Colin Fletcher's book, The Complete Walker. My first trip was such a disaster and good example for what not to do that I figured some study was required. That was 1970. In the spring of '72, I went to the Adirondack Wilderness with his wisdom and good equiptment. Never looked back. Read most of his other books except the last two he published. He had a unique writing style which kept you interested and he always told you the risks without overestimating them...even for solo trips where you have no backup. That was before satellite phones as if many hikers could afford thier weight and cost. You felt like you knew the man after awhile. He'll be a trekker in his next reincarnation, for sure. quasimodo1

[Sancho]

What was it about the 70’s that got us out there?

Colin Fletcher got us backpacking. The movie “Breaking Away” got us cycling. “Deliverance” got us canoeing (and banjo-pickin’).

My first Backpacking trip was in the early 70’s as well. We’d just gotten a new Scout Master who’d moved to S.C. from California and became our Scout Master only because it gave him an excuse to go backpacking. We got our gear at the Army-Navy surplus store in Columbia (Alice Packs, ponchos, mess-kits, C-rations, etc.) We wore T-shirts, Gym shorts, striped knee high tube socks, work boots, and of course those terrycloth head and wrist sweatbands. We picked out our white-boy ‘fro hairdos and stomped on down the trail. I know it sounds like a cliché of the seventies, but I’m not making this stuff up, that’s really how it happened. The trail was a section of the Appalachian Trail near Newfound Gap in Tennessee. A few days later we made it back to the trailhead and we’d learned a few lessons about backpacking, not the least of which being the importance of breaking in your boots first.

[quasimodo1]

To Sancho: My first trip was a worse debacle...got lost in the Green Mountains of Vermont for five days with my brother-in-law. We halizoned swamp water, got out with a compass bearing and had a gas station map to navigate. Smart. Since then I've done a thousand miles or more, many in the Adirondack Wilderness, West Virginia's Dolly Sods, New Mexico's Sangre de Cristos, Smokies and on. The boots thing is important and always bring some secondary footwear. I used to bring a big gun for bear and mountain lion country but I stopped when I learned more about their behavior. Certain places though...I'd still pack a flat-shooting rifle...worst case...predatory black bear. Hope you're still trekking. quasi

[Sancho]

Hey Quasi, sounds like that was a character building trip. I can’t say that I’ve ever been lost out there, but I have been “temporarily disoriented” for several days at a time. For me, that’s what’s so cool about wilderness travel – total freedom a.k.a. - no safety net. I’m free to walk off of that cliff if I so please and I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.

Yep, I’m still trekking. In fact all of that stuff I learned in the 70s, is the stuff I still enjoy most today (Walking, Pedaling, Paddling, oh yes and also banjo picking). I’d like to do month-long trips but I’m afraid that weekend trips, day hikes, and trail runs are more the norm for me now. Yet I did manage a week in the Olympic Nat’l Forest in Washington, a week in the Wasatch Mountains in Utah, and a couple of weekends in the Cibola Nat’l Forest in New Mexico this year. I’m trying to work out a trip to Peru or Ecuador next year.

In addition to all of the good advice I’ve gotten from Colin Fletcher over the years, there’s a piece of advice I use every time walk “out there.” It’s from another of my favorite authors, and has saved my skin more than once: “If you can’t walk there, you probably shouldn’t be there.” – Ed Abbey.

Happy trails

[quasimodo1]

Dear Sancho, It's good to hear you still solo; there's alot of warnings out there not to do that, I guess mostly meant for the inexperienced and those who won't accept the risk, which you can mostly keep in hand with a bit of care. Just the fact that you are hiking solo makes you think a little differently about what leaps you might make or waters you'll cross. I'd sure like a report about the Cibola National Forest; my hike was in the Latir peak wilderness, Carson National Forest...quite a ways from Cibola. The friend that took me to his sister's ranch in Raton said we'd be gone about two weeks or more. Six weeks later we were still there and some of the comboys and ranchers were asking me to relocate there. Would have loved to but for a family and business in Philadelphia. As for Peru, an old schoolmate of mine spent almost four years in Peru, in the Peace Corp; he speaks fluent Spanish of all types and he might be helpfull for reconnaisance. Besides, The Shining Path group is all but done, right? You must be younger since I am told by my back doctors that sixty pound packs and a spinal fusion don't mix very well. Looks like I'm waterborne now although I've considered a packmule. I guess at 61, that's not much of a copout. I'm missing climbing though--always dreamed of going to the class five stuff, you know, 12 point crampons, ice axe and Annapurna. Make sure you get to Peru; you can have my friends e-mail if you want. Make sure you sign the trail register; if they have any in South America. quasi

[Sancho]

Hey Quasi, I have several hiking partners that I’ve hiked with for years and I enjoy their company immensely, but my preferred method of backwoods travel is solo: fast and light with a Camelback and a bivysack. Pure freedom, and a bit selfish I suppose, but I guess it’s my nature. That goes for city hiking too: I’ve hiked Manhattan from the battery to the Bronx in a few hours and had a grand old time – minus the Camelback and bivysack of course (they have Ray’s Pizza, you see). Anyhow, I tried it early one morning with my wife, and had to stop at every freakin’ shoe store along the way; we finally made it to Midtown around sundown.

Cibola N.F. is gorgeous and I’d like to explore more of it, but I really only had the chance to hike the Sandia Peak area. The Sandias are that big hump just east of Albuquerque. I worked a couple of weeks in ABQ in August and then again in November and since I had the weekends free, I managed to make it up and down La Luz trail to Sandia Peak several times; then I went up Embudito Canyon to Three Guns (tambien los Tres Pistoles) to the south peak and along the Crest Trail and down La Luz. - Glorious – I love that Pinon Pine smell. The trailhead for Embudito Canyon is basically a Forest Service parking lot at the back of a neighborhood at the east end of Montgomery Ave. It’s the edge of the city, but as is typical with these things, once you get more than about 500 meters from the parking lot – you don’t see another soul.

In that region, I’ve also had the chance to hike Guadalupe Peak in West Texas – a remote area about an hour and a half east of El Paso. The peak is marked with a monument for an American Airlines flight that tragically managed to find the highest point in Texas on a poor weather night many years ago. I’ve also hiked the Manzano Wilderness area in Eastern New Mexico. ‘Manzano’ is Spanish for ‘apple’ and evidently when Coronado went through there, several hundred years ago, he found ancient apple trees. There has always been a lot of speculation about where those apple trees came from. Apples, of course, are not indigenous to North America.

Hell, 61 is young. Go-man-Go. I’m 47 and my life-goal is to day-hike Denali when I’m 70.

[quasimodo1]

Dear Sancho, I think we are so sympatico relative to backpacking, hiking, climbing and the rest. You most assuredly still have a chance to do the ultimate Himalayan or Karakoram dream climb--just make sure you do your homework, don't loose any bodyparts and come back alive. The most recent National Geographic has an extremely well written and fascinating article about the resurgence of Polish exteme winter climbing. The people in thier homeland do not exagerate when they call them "the Ice Warriors"; if you can get the article in January edition, you will see why. In the 1980s, after the prohibative restrictions of travel from the Eastern Block was over, they really got back in the game. The game being exclusively Winter ascents of mountains like Kanchenjunga, Annapurna and Nanga Parbat. All of thier climbs were against what the rich westerners who pay a fortune to be babysitted up Everest, the zone of death; in all thier climbs both successfull and otherwise they came back basically unscathed. Great story and article. Even the non-Polish cameraman is a worthy veteran. If I was going to try the really big ones, I'd study these guys and thier methods. My love of all things New Mexico is equal to yours. I plan to return in the Spring for some meandering around and in Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon. I lost my wife some years ago, married 23 years, but she never minded my long excursions to the wilderness, except perhaps for the overstay in the Sangre de Cristos. I do go on. I'm guessing you are a fan of Globe Trekker, formerly Lonely Planet and that you subscribe to Backpacker Magazine. Good guess? Keep on trukin. Sincerely, quasimodo1

[quasimodo1]

Sancho: check this out...http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/23/books/review/Weiland-t.html?em&ex=1198472400&en=5bb5a0a3353c651d&ei=5087%0A quasi

[Sancho]

I’m sorry to hear about your wife Quasi. An admission like that certainly adds a sense of perspective to this thread and has gotten me to rethinking something I wrote earlier. I’m now looking forward the next time she drags me into the shoe store. It’s the small things that make a life worth living.

You’re correct about Lonely Planet and the magazines. I’m a good customer of Rodale Publications. From them I get 2 cycling mags a running mag and, of course, a backpacking mag. Also thanks for the link. I’m not sure how I missed that one. One of my all time favorite Ralph Steadman drawings is the Vegas Police convention in H.S.T.’s “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”

I think that you are a more aggressive trekker that I. Anything that involves 10 point cramp-ons, ice axes, ropes, helmets and so on, seems to me to violate Ed Abbey’s aforementioned rule. And I am a clumsy man after all; just hiking or trail running I fall down a lot, so it probably wouldn’t be wise for me to be dangling from a rope out there. I’d hate to get into a spot where I had to saw off my arm or something with a Leatherman tool. (man, that kid had cajones eh?) So far, I still have almost all of my fingers.

[quasimodo1]

Dear Sancho: I'm at my sisters and logged on as guest. Big spread and all that good stuff. I'll get back to you tonight. quasi

[quasimodo1]

Sancho: You can't be truly clumsy to have completed so many solo hikes; the majority of backpackers with limited experience always have their eyes on the ground or the trail directly in front of them...a very disconcerting habit and necessary sometimes. After all, we don't go out there to look down all the time, you have to use all your vision. Then again, one false step when rock-hopping a streambed or boulderfield and it's 911 time, maybe. That young guy that removed part of his own arm...I don't think anyone can say what they might do in that situation. You have to credit a will to live that was exponential. Remember what most people perish from when lost or in serious trouble...rash or panicked thinking, no knowledge of the hypothermia risks or just plain embarassment. For me the point is not how fearless you are or what class climbing you might try; the point is to get out there, get over the three day hump and start enjoying the trip. I've taken some really risky falls; unexpected, dangerous and awkward but some hikers can take a fall and do the instinctual things that keep you intact. I was climbing up Giant Mountain, Adirondack Park, NY and scaled a waterfall pitch and decided to take the easy way down through the woods. Suddenly a bunch of scree just slid out from under the boots and it was gymnastic time. I remember grabbing for an evergreen sapling and coming to rest; cameras, binoculars and pack all still tied on. When I looked back, in ten more feet was a sixty foot drop into four inches of water. That would be bad. Those of us who go out into wilderness know there is risk; it's part of the attraction. Keep signing in at the trailhead. quasi

[Sancho]

Accident prone is a better description than clumsy. I’ve accepted it as a state of being and I no longer resent it. If I were to describe this malady in Spanish I’d use the verb “ser” rather than “estar.” This all goes into the calculus of my situational risk assessment and has kept me away from activities like ice climbing, caving, and hanging out in biker bars while wearing a “Honda-Rules” T-shirt.

The will to survive is strong medicine. Ernest Shackelton had it. He also had resourcefulness, organizational and leadership ability, and a fair amount of good luck. Try, “Endurance: Shackelton’s Incredible Voyage” by Alfred Lansing. That guy in Utah had it (if not much luck). He also had resourcefulness: When the boulder shifted and pinned his arm, he kept his wits and managed to fashion a seat for himself out of his climbing ropes to relieve the pressure of just hanging there by his arm. Once it became apparent to him that no one was coming and the arm was gone anyway (he could smell it rotting), he went to work with his multi tool. He said getting through the skin, muscle, and tendon was relatively easy but the bone was problematic. He solved that problem by applying leverage; the same leverage that he had relieved with his rope seat. He said the sound of the bone snapping was deafening in the confined space of that slot canyon.

The best survival tale I have about the sheer will to survive comes from the Air Force. They told us this one in Survival School. It happened back in the 60s. A young jet jock was having a grand old time, zooming through the skies of southern Nevada hollering “roger” and “wilco” when all hell broke loose and he wound up bailing-out of his F-100: did a nylon let-down to a full stop landing, as they say. He hit the ground in pretty good shape, but from that point on, he did just about everything wrong. He tried to walk out rather than staying put and signaling. He traveled during the heat of the day rather than at night. He slept on the scorching desert sand rather than elevating himself slightly or digging down a little. He passed up good water sources like prickly pear and barrel cacti. And despite all of that, he managed to make it back to civilization in several weeks time. They’d never seen some one so dehydrated and still living. He was covered with deep lacerations but his blood was so thick that he didn’t bleed. They had to suture him up as they rehydrated him to keep him from bleeding out. When they asked him how he did it, he replied that it was his “most heinous” ex-wife that drove him. He had recently divorced but he hadn’t yet changed his will and he knew that if he died, she’d get everything. So I suppose he was driven by his will (or lack thereof) and pure hatred.

[Sancho]

I suppose I shouldn’t whine about being accident prone without offering up a few examples:

’99 – limped 9 miles on a broken ankle out of the Ozarks after a graceless leap from a bank to a streambed. It wasn’t a bad break and my survival was never in question but there was danger to anyone of delicate temperament in earshot of me and my colorful use of the language for those 9 miles. My foot was a splendid purplish-black by the time I reached my car.

’86 – palm of my right hand found the business end of a dark brown scorpion while stacking some rocks near the base of the Grand Canyon. In short order, my right hand had the texture and appearance of a good sized Texas Ruby Red Grapefruit and I’d lost feeling on the right side of my body. Feeling came back in a couple of days and I hiked out.

’89 – cracked two ribs on a sharp rock near Cleary, Alaska after tripping over my own two feet. I didn’t stop; I just slowed down - rapid respiration was painful, you see.

’67, ’72, ’84, ’95, ’01, ’05 – swarmed by Yellow Jackets.

’75, ’90, ’95 – swarmed by Wasps.

’06 – swarmed by Hornets after stomping on their nest. I ran, screaming like a girl, almost all of the way down Grandfather Mountain, NC.

’60 – present: have mostly figured out Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, and Poison Sumac.

’84 - denuded my head and shoulders, and my girlfriend’s head and shoulders of all natural growing hair (and a couple of layers of skin) after lighting our campfire with slightly too much accelerant. White gas stove fuel is lively!

’07 – I don’t want to go too much into bumps and scrapes, but just when I think that I have it figured out…La Luz Trail this summer, tripped on my shoes and fell on a sharp rock and opened a six inch gash on my left shin that could’ve used some stitches, but I was having too much fun so I cleaned well and closed it with some skin adhesive that I carry, and pressed. I dig Superglue.

[Sancho]

*WARNING WARNING WARNING*
*Danger-Danger Will Robinson*

Thread revival in progress

So then, along with Colin Fletcher’s The Complete Walker, Here’s a short and incomplete list of outdoorsy books that Sancho can recommend:

In no particular order:

Call of the Wild and White Fang by Jack London:
Hey, It’s Jack London. What else can I say?

Desert Solitaire by Ed Abbey:
A nonfiction book about the southwestern US desert flora and fauna. I know, I know, it sounds duller than watching paint dry, but I thought it was a masterpiece – I couldn’t put it down.

Alaska Bear Tales by Larry Kaniut:
True stories, “As the bear’s teeth/claws were scraping across my scull, I found the noise to be quite loud…” not for the squeamish.

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson:
The Author and a friend walk the Appalachian Trail. It’s Bill Bryson, what else can I say?

They Shoot Canoes, Don’t They? By Patrick McManus:
A collection of McManus’s humorous stories from his Out Door Life column.

Endurance, Shackelton’s Incredible Voyage by Alfred Lansing :
Ernest Shackelton’s 1914 Antarctic exploration turns into a shipwreck, then a year of surviving on the ice, then an 650 mile open boat sail across the south Atlantic to South Georgia Island, then a mountain trek across the island – one day’s rest then back to sea to rescue the rest of the party. Everybody survived – minus a few toes – incredible.

Deep Survival by Lawrence Gonzalez:
Who lives and who dies in a “survival situation?” The Author argues that the 10% who survive are those who can clearly see the situation and act appropriately. Most of us try to shape the situation to something that it is not – something that we are more familiar with…and then we die.

Wager with the Wind by James Greiner:
Alaska bush flying and survival tales about Don Sheldon, a famous bush pilot and Denali outfitter. This man could fly a Super Cub like a …well I can’t think of a good simile right now but he could fly a Super Cub really well.

SAS Survival Handbook by John “Lofty” Wiseman:
Probably one of the better texts I’ve yet read on survival skills. Clearly and plainly written by a retired Chief Survival Instructor of the British Special Air Service. Also it has lots of pictures.

Happy reading, and be careful out there.