‘Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.’ Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
In the summer of 1980, I had the best job ever. I was a park ranger at North Cascades National Park in Washington. Part of my job was ‘trail patrol’ and for one day a week I had to be out hiking in the backcountry. This was required partly to inspect trail conditions and as a policing exercise as I was a law enforcement officer. But it was also so that rangers would better know the park and be more capable to describe the backcountry to park visitors. I would append my trail patrol day to a weekend or combine a few days so that I could hike far into the backcountry and wilderness areas.
On one of these I took four or five days to complete a solo journey of the Devil’s Dome loop in the Pasayten Wilderness. I had heard it was a gruelling trail but the hard work would be rewarded with outstanding views while walking through alpine meadows.
A fellow ranger dropped me off at the trailhead and bid me farewell and good luck. The first task was to cross Canyon Creek which was raging with frigid glacial meltwater. There was no bridge or nicely scattered boulders to jump across.
I had to plunge in and wade across water which at times was waist high. Halfway across I lost my footing and the swift current took me down. I struggled to upright myself but the weight of my backpack pulled me under. Shouting for help was pointless as my ranger companion had long left and I wasn’t expecting to see another human in this wilderness. For a few eternal seconds, I thought I had finally rendezvoused with mortality but I somehow managed to get a foothold on the slippery rocks and pull myself and backpack up. I got to the other side soaked and shivering and cursing at my clumsiness and stupidity.
For half a second I questioned whether going into the wilderness alone was a wise idea but I quickly dismissed that thought … partly because there was no way I was going to cross that river again!
I had a climb of 3300 feet ahead of me across four miles so I knew I’d warm up soon but I hated hiking in wet clothes so I stripped off everything and tied my clothes to my backpack to dry. I became one with nature and hiked stark naked up to the tree line. My clothes had dried but I felt free as I hiked amongst the peaks. I could see for miles across the alpine meadows so I knew I’d have ample time to hide my nakedness in the unlikely event that I would see another human in this wilderness. At the very least I wore my National Park Service hat as technically I was on duty and I had to identify myself as a ranger if I were to write a citation.
When I was in high school, I read Colin Fletcher’s A Man Who Walked Through Time. Fletcher hiked naked for two months on an epic trek in the Grand Canyon. Here was my opportunity to do the same and for much of the trek I never bothered with any clothes. It’s been 35 years but I can still vividly remember walking across that alpine zone with my private parts dangling and singing at the top of my lungs … all alone on the mountain top. I was incredibly happy to be so free.
On my final night I bivouacked on the top of Devil’s Dome where the whole world seemed to lie at my feet. I was awoken in the pre-dawn hours by a rustling and stuck my head out of my sleeping bag and found a deer foraging a few metres from where I slept. I thanked him for waking me up as I wouldn’t want to miss the sunrise from that vantage point.
I could see the cool rays of dawn trying to peek through the eastern mountains. I looked to the north toward British Colombia and then dug out my camera as I knew then that I was seeing the image which would encapsulate my experience in the Pasayten Wilderness.
That day I hiked down to Ross Lake where I had arranged for a fellow ranger to pick me up with the Park boat and take me back home to Diablo.
I thought of Edward Abbey and his landmark book, Desert Solitaire, on that trip and reflected on the value of wilderness. I was alone in the wilderness for four days and it was a spiritual and enriching experience. As Abbey so eloquently wrote, taking away the opportunity to have such an experience would be like depriving us of bread and water.
I doubt I would do such an adventure now, 35 years later, but I feel enriched knowing that our civilisation hasn’t cut itself off from its origins as Abbey suggested and has indeed left some of the original in place.
