We love our beautiful, wild scenery in New Mexico, but we forget that those picture postcard settings can be deadly.
In the latest mishap, this time in the Pecos Wilderness, we lost not only a promising physics student but one of our finest, a state policeman who tried to rescue her.
Hikers and outdoor enthusiasts have dissected and condemned the behavior of the dead woman’s boyfriend. He was the stronger and more experienced hiker but was so far ahead of her that he didn’t see her get off the trail. I don’t intend to rehash the incident, but there are some lessons here that may save somebody else’s life.
I’ve been hiking since I was a teenager, and I’ve hiked with all kinds of people – old, young, men, women, groups, Girl Scouts and solo. One thing I’ve learned: Men and women can have very different approaches to the outdoors.
Some men are quite solicitous of the people they hike with. Others consider any hike an athletic event; when they hike together, “together” means, “See you back at the trailhead. Last one in is a wienie.”
When women hike together, it’s a social event. They talk, they laugh, they share snacks, and they take turns leading. The latter is an incidental and unspoken practice because they don’t care who leads. Above all, they stick together. I’ve seen an entire group of female hikers stop while one helped another pull a thorn from her fanny or because one person needed to rest.
Seasoned hikers observe a rule that the strongest hikers are responsible for the slower, weaker hikers. They were appalled at the boyfriend’s comment, “It’s basically because I just walk faster than her.” I once dated an experienced mountaineer who always walked behind me. It assured that he wouldn’t leave me behind, and he was teaching me to choose a comfortable pace – my pace, not his – and stick to it, which meant I could hike farther without tiring.
The grieving boyfriend wondered why his partner left the trail. Well, duh. Men can relieve themselves standing a foot off the trail; a woman needs privacy and will often walk a ways to find it. It’s not hard to imagine that she got turned around and headed the wrong direction. Or that she lost the trail. What she did right was to carry a charged cell phone; what she did wrong was to dress inadequately and have no supplies with her. The boyfriend was carrying the only pack.
From men, I’ve learned the importance of gear. To a lot of women, gear means sneakers and a granola bar. A hiking friend, who was an infantryman in Vietnam, always carries a 25-pound pack, long hike or not. He’s ready for anything.
Ladies, spend the money on a good pair of hiking boots and good socks. Take care of your feet – you’ll need them. Carry your own pack with water, food, warm clothing, sunscreen, insect repellent, flashlight with good batteries, matches, whistle and a few first-aid supplies. Think of the calories you’ll burn.
Let’s talk about water. Tourists, who aren’t accustomed to our dry air, always find out that a single water bottle is inadequate, but locals make the same mistake. Carry at least a half gallon – more if you’re going to be gone all day. You’ll be glad you did. One beverage not to take is liquor. Drunks in the outdoors are search-and-rescue volunteers’ worst nightmares because they attempt the stupidest stunts.
Here’s a biggie: Allow enough time. Once the sun sets, the temperature drops, and you can end up cold and tired, trying to find your way back in the dark.
Bottom line: Respect your fellow hikers and respect the outdoors enough to enter it aware and equipped.
Sherry Robinson is the author of “El Malpais, Mt. Taylor and the Zuni Mountains: A Hiking Guide and History.”
© New Mexico News Services 2009