Canoeists want the same sort of deal—convenience, shelter, comfort and a great view. But they need one other thing as well: access from water. It's hard as hell to haul a 70-pound canoe up a vertical incline to Pocahontas' Boudoir, and you may have to settle for Joe Sixpack's favorite inlet and pool hall. Nose around and ask questions beforehand.

Be forewarned that campsites vary with the season. That babbling brook you had your heart set on may have withered away late in the season, leaving you with a waterless gully. Mapmakers draw stream lines to conform to springtime reality. Check water sources as you hike. If the map shows blue and you find sere dust or a mud flat, suspect that other streams in the same area will be dry as well. Ask the local rangers about drought (or flood) conditions before heading into the backcountry. Choose your campsites accordingly.

Our favorite campsites are high mountain lakes, full of fish but not full of campers. Most picture-postcard lakes—the kind you see on the cover of Sunset magazine—have wide and well-maintained trails to them. They're accessible to large groups, either on foot or horseback. The crowds at these lakes can get oppressive, especially on weekends and holidays. We like to get off privately to swim, sun and have fun. Usually this means scouring the map for a mountain lake off the trail, one we can call our own, if only for a few days.

We also love to catch, cook and eat trout—another consideration when seeking an off-trail lake on the map. Trout require a lake deep enough so that it won't freeze solid during the winter. Lakes at or near the tree line get colder sooner, remain frozen longer and cannot support the insect life that fish need to survive. In addition, the higher the lake, the less firewood there is for our cooking projects. You'll find the best fishing at a lower-elevation lake with water flowing through it. If it's surrounded by meadows, don't plan on catching anything but mosquitos. In fact, you might find nothing but mud if you get there late in the year. Steep cliffs and sheer rock walls rising from one bank are an indication of a deep section, which may contain fish.

At times, you'll want to spend a night on a ridge or peak—without access to running water. There's nothing so spectacular as the night sky seen from a summit. Sunsets and sunrises alone make it well worth the inconvenience of carrying water up there. We figure about a quart per person will get us through dinner and a morning hike down without doing any dishes. We wash them later when we get to the next water source (though never in it).

Once you've arrived at fabled Lake Whitefish, choose a campsite with care. A free-running stream or wilderness lake requires a light touch and distance. Foul it and the whole idea of backcountry camping goes down the drain. Locate tent, fire ring and washing-up areas at least 100 feet away from the water, and even farther if it's safe and convenient. That way, spills will be filtered somewhat should they get back into the water. Remember, too, that any water you drink should be treated, boiled or filtered first: Giardia stalks even the clearest springs.

Many hikers bring a collapsible, two-gallon container for storing water at the campsite. This is especially convenient if your camp is some distance from your source—for example, if the mosquitos are swarming down near the lake. In the absence of such a container, make do by filling all your pots and canteens, then covering them with lids or metal plates. Do this before dark. It's hard to carry two pots of water and hold a flashlight as you scamper up a steep grade to your campsite.

Back to top

Tentsite

The sole requirement for a tentsite is that you can sleep there. This means different things to different people. We knew one old-timer who never carried an Ensolite pad. Instead, he'd stop early in the afternoon and work for at least two hours preparing his sleeping site. He'd meticulously smooth the earth, pick out all the rocks and twigs, then lay down a soft bed of pine needles and fallen leaves. Finally he would spread his sleeping bag down on the soft bed just in time to go fishing.

Before you choose a tentsite, look carefully at the drainage system of the surrounding hills. More than once we've set up in a likely looking area, flat and sandy, near a lake, only to discover it turned into a large mud puddle in the rain. Mountain rains often come suddenly and hard. Flat sandy areas can become Lake Superior in 20 or 30 minutes, putting you and your tent under two or three inches of water.

Another consideration in choosing a tentsite is the ability to stake your tent. While newer dome-type tents do not require stakes, most small tents need secure staking in the ground. This makes them difficult to set up in granite or sandy areas. In such spots, lay the stake flat on the ground and pile rocks on top of it, or wedge it in a granite rift. Sometimes you can tie the tent ropes to boulders or tree branches instead of to stakes. Sandy campsites present similar problems: the stakes shift easily or pull out. Every time the tent is bumped, the stakes slip a little and pretty soon the tent sags like a suspension bridge. Both rocky and sandy areas require extra care when you enter or leave the tent.

In foul weather, stake both rainfly and tent. The rainfly should completely cover the tent in order to shed water several inches away from the base of the tent, beyond tarp or groundcloth. Even then, you may still be in trouble if the uphill side of the rainfly funnels the water against the tent side or onto the groundcloth. The telltale sign will be a puddle inching across the floor of the tent in mid-storm. At that point, your options are cut to the bone. Use the small towel or sponge you've brought along to sop up the water. Wring out and repeat. This will keep you busy and your mind off murder. Get out and fix the rainfly's drain-off system. Or slosh around till the rain passes, make do as well as you can for the rest of the night, and hope for warm sunshine in the morning to dry you out. Next time, site the tent farther from that potential Victoria Falls.

A rainfly should also be stretched or staked so that it clears at least an inch of the tent itself. If the rainfly simply lies on top of the tent, internal moisture from breath and sweat won't be able to escape, and by morning, you'll be cold and clammy even if it's warm and dry outside.

Finally, one word about digging drainage ditches around your tent: Don't. They scar the land and, when filled with runoff water, erode the earth. You can literally diminish the wilderness.

Many people camp with only a sleeping bag and poncho or tarp. The poncho can be rigged up between or under trees or bushes to form a roof and keep you out of the rain. A turned-over canoe can shelter you from a light rain, and rigged with a tarp, it can provide adequate protection if the wind is not up. If you use a tarp, carry some light nylon cord to secure the ends. Some tarps have grommets or reinforced holes; otherwise use Visclamps (purchased separately) which act as portable grommets. Also useful are four metal tent stakes, which can anchor a tarp to the ground.

As long as the ground stays fairly dry, such shelter is adequate for most summer showers. A tentless pack is that much lighter, but it takes a fair amount of ingenuity to stay dry in really stormy weather (to say nothing of mosquito-proofing). And a wet sleeping bag can take days to dry out. Even if you plan to sleep under the stars, put up your tent (or tarp) as a precaution. Nothing changes faster in the mountains than the weather.

Back to top

Campfires

Campfires have a magic all their own. Staring into the fire late at night gives you a sense of peace and security that is hard to match at home. Our trips into the mountains center around hot meals, which invariably center around the campfire. Cooking, baking, sipping hot chocolate, heating water for dishes and washing all require a well-tended hearth.

Wilderness campfires consume tremendous quantities of wood, however. In many areas of the mountains, that wood is becoming very scarce, and fires are not permitted. This is particularly true at high elevations and along well-traveled trails. Even where it's legal to gather wood for a campfire, follow your conscience rather than the letter of the law. If you see that there's little deadfall wood left, leave it. Give nature a breather. Sacrifice the fire. Use the stove instead and cook your meals quickly. Or eat cold food on evenings when you camp in impacted areas. You may be rewarded for your fireless evening by a host of interesting sights and sounds usually obscured by the light and crackle of the fire.

Let's assume, though, that you're camped at a lower- elevation lake or stream, a couple of miles off the trail. There's plenty of dry wood on the ground. You plan to stay here a couple of days and your mouth is already watering with culinary intentions. First you need a fireplace.

A backcountry fireplace is nothing more than a circle of rocks with earth in the middle. Fires feed a constant shower of sparks into the air. While there's little wind, these are entirely harmless. But a sudden gust can blow the sparks toward combustible material, and you can quickly have a forest fire on your hands. If your campsite already has a fireplace, use it. Just be sure to clear the ground for four or five feet in all directions and check for dead, dry branches hanging less than 10 feet directly over the fire area.

For cooking and baking, we usually modify existing fireplaces, or construct new ones of our own design from scratch. The back of the fireplace is made narrow to support a small camp grill. The front of the fireplace has one or two rocks that are easy to remove. We clear an additional area in front of these rocks for baking, and surround this area with a ring of stones. At baking time, we remove both rocks and rake hot coals into this ring. Meanwhile, we can heat dishwater or stir-fry vegetables on the back grill.

As you construct different campsites, you'll get different ideas on how to modify the basic fireplace to meet your needs. If a wobbly rock sends a full pot of water tumbling into the fire, you won't let that happen the next night. You'll firm up the rocks to make a more stable base for the impending soufflé. Next you may discover there isn't enough draft the way this fireplace is constructed, and you'll need to build the back higher than the sides. And you'll doubtless find that the artistic fireplace you come across at the Arcadian lake of your dreams is just too big for your one pot. It would be fine for U.S. Steel or a party of 30 with mules, but. . . So you hack and haul, sculpting a new, smaller, lighter and more efficient version on the same site.

It's useful to collect firewood in a variety of sizes. Small dry twigs are great for starting fires, but they burn too quickly for cooking. Large, long logs burn for hours, but won't fit under the grill for heating a pot of water. We bring a camp saw to cut large logs into shorter, easy-to-use lengths, which can last longer. The saw is lightweight, folds into itself for safety, and can be sharpened at a saw shop between trips. It is never, ever used on living trees, only on uprooted deadfall wood.

If you have to go far to gather the wood, bring a poncho to carry extra smaller pieces back to camp in fewer trips. But don't use it as a sack; it's guaranteed to tear. Rather, wrap the wood in the poncho and cradle the whole load in your arms. We also take a pair of garden gloves which help save our hands when we gather firewood. They also double as pot-holder mittens. In Chapter 10, we tell you how to use the fire most efficiently.

Starting a Fire
Late in the summer, at a forested campsite, you'll find plenty of dry kindling. If you can bend a twig back against itself without breaking it, it's too wet for kindling. The best kindling will snap in two with a loud crack as soon as you bend it.

Start with the smallest, driest kindling you have. Keep a pile of it in reserve to add to the first flames. Remember that fires need lots of air. Too much fuel creates too much smoke which keeps the air away, so the fire goes out. Start your fire with a small, well-ventilated flame at the bottom, a space for air, then another layer of wood. You can shape this like a tepee, a lean-to, or a log cabin. Make sure the kindling is burning well before adding larger pieces of wood.

So far so good. It's easy to start a fire with good dry kindling. But what if it's wet? Old-timers may tell you to break lower branches off live trees for kindling. These lowest limbs are actually deadwood and, if they fan out into small twigs, they are fine for starting a fire even in rain or snow. But the idea of breaking dead branches from living trees is ecologically repugnant. Most campsites are surrounded by stripped trees for a 100 yards in all directions. It looks like the area was bombed from the bottom up. Don't break branches off trees except in an emergency.

We often use the pages of our paperbacks to start fires. We usually read 30 to 70 pages a day, between trailside rest stops and afternoon cooking sessions, so we have plenty to burn. Paper or cardboard from food containers is also great for starting fires.

Another easy way to start fires is to use a flammable liquid or gel. If you have a kerosene or alcohol stove, the fuel can start wood burning in wet conditions. Some people bring a small can of lighter fluid for emergency fire starting. If you do use a flammable liquid, never pour any onto a fire that is already lit or smoldering. It may ignite the can you're pouring from! You can also buy fire starter in a tube, like toothpaste.

Okay. The kindling is burning, whether it's dry or wet. Now for the larger pieces. The point is to build a fire gradually. Onto the kindling go larger dry branches. When they're well lit and flaming (not smoking), place a log or two gently on top, leaving plenty of air space between the pieces of fuel. Larger logs are likely to be dry inside. Once you get them burning, they'll keep burning even in a drizzle or mist. If there's protection above them, they'll burn in the rain. We often place a layer of rain-dampened logs about three feet above the fire between two piles of rocks. This wooden roof protects the fire from rain and dries the logs at the same time. When these logs get dry enough to burn, they can be pushed into the fire and replaced. With a little ingenuity, you can cook and eat in the rain without much trouble.

One last word on fire-starting frustrations. The fire has started. The cardboard is burning. You add some more wood, but it's wet and the fire starts to go out. Frantically, you squeeze some fire starter onto a stick and throw it into the embers. It flares up, flames for a minute, then dies again. What now? Our advice is to stop, let it go out and start over from the beginning. We've seen novices waste reams of paper and tubes of fire starter trying to burn wet wood. Remember, a good fire starts with good kindling. For the second attempt, gather drier twigs and branches, even if you have to walk deeper into the forest or desert to find them. Keep a larger supply of dry twigs to add to the fire as it starts to burn. It will work--guaranteed! And at the next campsite, you'll gather the right combination of wood sizes and dryness to start the fire easily the first time.

Back to top

Food Storage

Little Critters
The squirrel family is undeniably cute. All of them: chipmunks, prairie dogs and ground squirrels. They are positively Disney Worldish in their lovability. They'll approach fairly close, stand up on their hind legs, rub their front paws together and chirp. It's tempting to reward them with a morsel or two. Squirrels are also smart and voracious. They're world-class experts at stealing your stash. Chewing through a pack and several layers of plastic and cardboard is child's play for them, leaving you with a shortfall of precious food.

A cardinal rule of backpacking is never feed the animals. It is unfair and dangerous. Instead of applying themselves to gathering their natural food, they've discovered an easier, tastier way to fill up. If you feed them, or leave leftover food behind, it makes them dependent and renders them less able to survive in their natural habitat. That's the danger to them. The danger to you, aside from the loss of some closely budgeted food, is a possible bite, which can be painful and sometimes septic.

A family or two of rodents living in or near any well-used campground is inevitable. They come out mostly at night and look for food. They are so used to finding food in backpacks that they will often chew through your pack even when all food has been removed and hung high in a stuffsack. All edibles should be hung up at night, if possible. Should you find rodent toothmarks on your cheese, just cut off the chewed portion and eat the rest. We've never heard of anyone getting sick by eating the untouched part. And a nibble-sized hole in a pack or pouch is easily sewn up.

We react similarly to ants and bees, brushing off those in the packets and eating the food. These insects can be kept out by packing food in tightly sealed plastic bags. Another common problem is food spilled inside the pack. The pack was set flat on the ground rather than upright, and the maple syrup, like flowing water, sought and found its natural level. Clean up as you might, the ants and bees will love that pack even when it's empty. But they never seem to do any harm.

The Long Hot Summer

Our worst problem with food is storage on hot days. Keeping your stash out of the midsummer sun at a rocky campsite can be a 14-hour struggle. Not all food is harmed by excessive heat, but such things as cheese, eggs and chocolate are. At the beginning of the trip, you tend to throw chocolate bars into the nooks and crannies of the pack to save space. But if they're not double-bagged in plastic, and if you set your pack down in the blazing afternoon sun, a melted chocolate mess will be oozing through your pack. If you're in the desert or there are no deep-shade trees around your camp, you have to figure out other ways of keeping food out of the sun. Don't try leaving food in the tent all day. Tent fabric is so thin it works more like a greenhouse than a refrigerator. Sometimes the side of an old tree trunk or a rock ledge may have a shady spot at its base. Or you might rig a poncho or tarp to block the sun from the food pack.

Bears

We've heard lots of bear stories: bears ripping open automobile trunks with powerful paws; mama-and-cub teams getting into "bear-proof" bags hanging high on guy wires strung between trees; bears strolling on trails; and even campers "playing dead," hoping that a bear wouldn't maul them after it ate all their food several feet away. We even have a few stories of our own, but like taxi stories--driver and passenger!--enough is enough. The point is that if you take a few precautions, you can share the wilderness safely even with the big critters.

The most important rule for dealing with bears is to be forewarned. Find out about them and plan a strategy before you reach bear country. Ask the ranger when you apply for your permit. Consult with the guard at the park entrance. Try to plan your trip to avoid campsites that have a reputation for bear troubles, such as Troublesome Creek Campground in Denali State Park, which was named for bear encounters!

Bear-Proofing the Food Stash
If you'll be camping in problem areas, learn if there are "bear boxes" (large steel containers literally bolted to the ground) available, as in some of the national parks, or bear-proof wires at any of the campsites. These are steel cables, about three-eighths of an inch thick, strung about 20 feet off the ground between two stout tree trunks. If there are wires, you only need 50 feet of rope and two stuffsacks. Here's what you do.

Divide your food between the stuffsacks. Throw one end of the rope over the wire (tying a rock to it will help). Tie a stuffsack to the other end. Hoist the stuffsack about 20 feet into the air. Tie your other stuffsack to the rope as high as you can reach. The two sacks should roughly balance each other, one about six feet off the ground, the other about 20 feet up. Don't leave any extra rope hanging; stuff it inside the sack. With a long stick, raise the bottom sack as high as you can. Raising it to about 15 feet will lower the other sack to about the same height. And there you have it: two food-laden stuffsacks suspended about 15 feet off the ground. The wire is too thick for a bear to cut or tear and the sacks are too high for mom or her cubs to reach. You can sleep soundly. In the morning, you'll need a pole long enough to push one sack up until the other is low enough to grab. Usually such a pole sits next to the wire and is easy to recognize.

If rangers or other campers tell you of a bear problem and there are no bear-proof wires in the area, you have several options. The first is to camp elsewhere. Bears don't naturally bother people or eat their food. But they learn over time, like squirrels, that it's easier than foraging. They tend to have a territory that they regularly patrol in search of campers, foodsacks and garbage. If you're on their route, they'll try their luck with your goods. The farther away you get, the less likely they'll come to your campsite. An extra afternoon of hiking will often give you enough room that you needn't worry. Hiking three miles from that scenic lake and camping along a stream might save a week's food.

A second option is to rig up your own bear-proof system of hanging food sacks. Getting a tight line 20 feet off the ground between two trees isn't easy, but it is possible if you persevere. Or you might just hoist the food 15 feet up by looping it over a single high branch. Another plan is to use a cliff ledge. While bears can climb trees, they cannot climb rock faces. If you find a cliff or ledge 12 to 15 feet up, and if you can reach it, the bear won't be able to.

A new twist is a bear-proof storage canister, an oval-shaped plastic gizmo you carry in your pack which requires a screwdriver or coin to pry open. It comes in two sizes and can be rented or purchased. The smaller size weighs nearly three pounds and stores about 12 pounds of food; the larger size weighs five pounds and stores nearly 25 pounds of food. While this adds significant weight to your load, bears have yet to figure out how to get into them. They're now required equipment in the backcountry of Denali Park in Alaska.

The canisters are genuinely "bear-proof," but that doesn't mean bears won't try to open them up. If you use a canister, hang it in a tree or place it on level ground, some distance from your campsite. When bears find it, they'll bump, kick or otherwise move it around before leaving in frustration. They may even send it rolling down a granite slope. But it's visible, retrievable, and durable. Take a hike, recover your food and, if it's a rental, your deposit.

Just off the drawing boards is another high-tech solution for keeping food safe from bears. It's a stuffsack made of "aramid fibers" (of bullet-proof vest fame). It weighs only a few ounces. You simply tie it to a sturdy tree with its pull cord of ultra-strong Kevlar fiber. Both the cord and the fabric are supposedly too tough for a bear to chew through or rip open. While these bear-proof stuffsacks have yet to be approved for use in national parks, they are much lighter than canisters and may be nearly as secure.

The final choice is just to leave the food in your pack or in a stuffsack on the ground. You might fasten some cups or forks or spoons onto the drawstrings. Then go to sleep and hope that: 1) no bear appears; 2) failing that, you hear it beginning to rustle your food; and 3) you are in the presence of one timid enough to be scared away by a furless, clawless and fangless human banging pots and throwing rocks, something never to be tried in grizzly terrain. Remember: it's better to lose your food or your pack than to tangle with an angry bear.

Grizzlies
Outside Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks and Alaska, most of the bears you'll encounter in the wilderness are black bears. They're interested in your food, but they aren't intent on doing you any harm. What if you meet such a bear on the trail? If you remain calm and back off, the bear will probably do the same. Never get between a mama and her cub, though. Don't surprise or scare a bear. And never back one into a corner. If you're worried about bumping into bears on the trail, make a lot of noise as you hike. Forewarned, the bear will avoid you.

Grizzly bears (and their relatives, brown bears) are something else. The only major grizzly populations in the Lower 48 are in Glacier and Yellowstone. Here the bears are very dangerous, being garbage-fed and unpredictable. They have been known to hurt people, seemingly for no reason. When antagonized (and just entering their territory can be antagonistic), it's possible they'll attack instead of waddling off. If you're entering grizzly country, you have to be much more careful. One veteran put together these rules:

• Make a lot of noise as you walk, especially when you're in thick forest or tall brush where visibility is limited.
• Try to hike with others. Numbers sometimes discourage bears.
• Leave the dogs at home. They can rouse a grizzly to a fright and fury.
• Camp, when possible, near a climbable tree. (Grizzlies don't climb trees—though they can shake the hell out of them!)
• Try to cook (and hang your food at night) 200 to 300 yards downwind of your sleeping area. Have a separate set of "cooking clothes" and hang them up also with your food at night.
• Never bang a pot or throw a rock at a grizzly.
• Carry a spare stuff sack. If the grizzly gets your food, you'll still have a sack for your sleeping bag.

Back to top

Stormy Weather

Most first-time backpackers have a negative attitude about rain, considering it "bad" weather. At home, you don't go out into the rain or cold for fun. You stay indoors, turn the thermostat up and watch TV. The backpacking equivalent of that attitude is to set up the tent, put on the rainfly, and curl up in your sleeping bag until the sun comes out. But it doesn't take long to realize the quarters are a lot more cramped in a pup tent than in your living room. You get claustrophobic. You want to stretch. Every time you go out for a snack, you track water back into the tent. Soon, you start to get depressed about the weather.

There is a different attitude toward stormy weather, however, one worth cultivating. The rain is another mood of the mountains, creating a unique beauty in altered sounds, smells and perspectives. Get out of your tent and enjoy it. In fact, we often take our tent down when it starts to rain and use the groundcloth and rainfly to make a porch and covered cooking area. We store the packs under plastic garbage bags. Once the clothes and sleeping bags are secure, we can go about our business. We read in the rain, cook in the rain, fish in the rain (often the best fishing), and sometimes just sit and watch the lightning in the distance, listen to the thunder as it rolls closer, and view the rain-washed lake and mountains.

Then the storm is past and the skies begin to clear. As long as you stay warm with several layers of clothes, and dry with a poncho on you or strung up above you, you can weather bad weather in good spirits.

There is no such thing as "normal" mountain weather. The hottest days often come in September. July thundershowers can turn to hail and snow at upper elevations. A clear morning can be followed by a wet, miserable afternoon. You have to be prepared for it all. Our guidelines are:

• A poncho for every person.
• A rainfly and groundcloth for every tent.
• A garbage bag for every pack.

These are admittedly conservative. Many people do it with less. The more experience you have, the better you can manage with less protection. It's frustrating to pack rain gear around for nine or ten days and never use it. On the other hand, people who pack in less rain gear often plan to do a lot of hiking each day. Since it's more likely to rain in the afternoon in the mountains, they plan to hike through the storm and need only keep themselves and their packs dry. Our idea of backpacking, however, stations us at a campsite most afternoons, either because we hike only in the morning or because we stay in one place for two or three days at a time. So when we see that first hailstone bounce off the ground, the extra gear is suddenly worth its weight in gold.

Back to top

Washing Up

Pollution in the high country is disheartening and unnecessary. If you find a gum wrapper on the trail, you can pick it up and carry it out yourself. But if you see soapsuds along the shore of a lake, it's too late to do anything about it. Don't let detergent get into the water in the first place--that's the only time to stop it.