Two-Heel Drive, a Hiking Blog

Local hiker Randy L. was in Alaska awhile back, and left an account on the Hike Reports page. A highlight:

Once above the tree line, the views are simply breathtaking. Our ship docked very early in the morning and all aboard was at 8:00 PM. It was pure luck that we got a mostly clear day. It was foggy in the morning but later on it cleared, with intermittent patches of misty fog drifting through. The clearing pockets revealing snowy peaks in all directions, panoramic vistas, and a stunning view down to Gastineau channel and the city of Juneau. I wish I could bottle the smell of the crystal clean air.

Read the rest of the post and check out the rest of his pictures.

(And don’t be shy about adding your own hike reports).

Remember the picture of the hiking route that consisted of planks bolted into a Chinese cliffside with chains for hand holds? Well, an industrious Web surfer tracked down a bunch more pictures and a written account by an American, who went up there with his wife a few years back. It’s a turn-by-turn account of soldiering on despite the condition of being scared shitless. On the way back, this happens:

As far as we were concerned, the worst was over. Let it snow.

We were now on the original Staircase of Suicide. The cable car station was just a couple hundred yards away. The end was in sight. Suddenly something happened that I will never forget for the rest of my life.

About fifteen yards in front of me, a Chinese man was walking carelessly along a relatively flat portion of the walkway. I had noticed he wasn’t even holding the metal chain. Without any warning, he suddenly lost his footing, slipped and fell.

With only a few thin pine trees on the snowy slope separating him from a 600-foot drop off a sheer cliff, he reached back with one had to grab onto the safety chain just as his feet slid under it. If he had missed the chain or his grip broke, the pine trees would be his last chance. But he held tight and broke his momentum. Slowly he pulled himself back to his feet.

Laura and I were too stunned to even move. Only a lucky last second grab of the chain had saved him. This guy had missed death by a hair. Before I could even muster a breath, he turned straight around and looked at me. In perfect English, he calmly said to me, “It’s very dangerous here. You should be careful.”

The whole thing’s a rather long read — bookmark it and set aside for when you’ve got some time to take it all in.

Thanks to intrepid reader Cynthia for sending this one along.

Paul Trousdale of Oakland was there recently. From his “just back from” item in the Chron:

I wish I’d packed: A basic climbing harness and helmet. Although nontechnical, many of the exposed hiking routes have fixed cables to hook onto for safety.

Mentioning climbing harnesses is the surest way say: “I’m a real adventurer.”

Here’s a question for today’s readers: what’s the most exotic locale you’ve hiked in?

Stumbled across a blog post from some folks who had some fun in the hills of the Balkans.

The lake has a castle on one side, an Island Church in the middle, and is absolutely stunning. Unfortunately, they do not rent out paddle boats at night. We were somewhat sad to not be able to row out to the island, until we stumbled upon a boat on a dock. Some kind Slovenian had left it with oars all set up and untied. We decided to go on a covert mission to the island (yep, we are molding the minds of future leaders). Either the owner didn’t mind us using his boat, or he didn’t notice, but we left it back on his dock after our nighttime adventure.

OK, so this will not be recommended in the guidebooks. But it sounds like a fine place for a hike. More Slovenia hiking locales here.

Slovenia is probably one of the best-kept secrets of Europe. Beautiful environment, ranging from Alps to hills, flatlands or seaside make it an excellent country to explore on foot, more so as you will easily find many well-maintained and marked hiking paths.

If you need some practice hiking around folks who speak foreign languages, just try Mission Peak on a Saturday (though this might better prepare you for hiking in Hyderabad.)

Everybody else has already linked to this, but hey, bringing up the rear is my standard modus operandi: An interactive graphic of a trek to the top of Kilimanjaro. It does all sorts of jazzy Google Maps stuff and includes videos and audio tracks from Tom Bissell, who made it all the way up.

(This is local because everybody around here has either been up there or has it on their life list. Link via the excellent Adventure Blog, a Kili veteran.)

Yeah, so, my vow of chastity to write only about Nor-Cal stuff has lasted about 47 minutes at last count. It’s all because an Oregon-based writer/climber/podcaster named Fitz Cahall sent me a link to his latest ‘cast, which describes one guy’s experience backpacking deep in the wilds of Alaska after he splits off from his group because he has to get back to civilization to attend his sister’s wedding. One of those decisions any of us would make in the same situation, such an obvious call that it almost seems mundane. What happened next was anything but: first he bumped into a family of grizzlies, then he fell into a crevasse (a short one), then he fell into a river of raging snowmelt, then he stumbled half frozen into a hunting camp where he needed to catch a flight out.

Great stuff, or at least good enough to grant myself an exception.

Here’s a link to the podcast.

Travel writer Holden Frith of the Times Online of London has a scratchin’ good time on a five-day hike in Napoleon’s homeland.

The path splits into a few alternative routes on day three, which means that some of the tracks are less well worn. Dropping down from the town of Quenza, my chosen path deposited me in a small stream and then came to an abrupt stop. I tried walking along the stream, hopping from rock to rock in about six inches of water, but soon came up against a mass of thorny vegetation.

I dithered around for half and hour, map in hand, eliminating all other options and deciding that the only way forward was through the thorns. So, crouching down in the water on all fours and using my rucksack as a battering ram, I fought my way under the bushes and emerged on the other side. After a few more minutes of wading I spotted a very welcome signpost and continued with renewed confidence. Then I scratched my arm on a barbed-wire fence while trying to escape a cow that I thought was a bull until I saw its udders.

More on following in Napoleon’s footsteps here. Word to the wise: invasions of Russia are not advised.

Japan Times describes a hike to the high country:

For most visitors, picnicking under the soft green larch trees beside the rushing waters of the Azusa River or having their photograph taken at the famed Kappa Bridge is about as close as they will get to wilderness trekking.

But for most people who end up there, Kamikochi is not about relaxation or lazing around. Mountain hiking is what it’s all about, but first a word of warning: Hiking in the Japan Alps which rise to 3,000 meters or more or on any other high mountain for that matter, is not quite a casual Sunday afternoon stroll.

Think several hours of strenuous walking. Think sun stroke. Dehydration. Slipping over. Injured ankles. Lugging a heavy backpack up a steep incline. Sudden weather changes. And very, very basic facilities in huts where you can stay the night.

But despite all the fight, mountain hiking is a very popular pastime in Japan the mountain hut atop Mount Shirouma in Nagano Prefecture can comfortably accommodate over 2,000 people at night during the peak season and on the main trails you are usually never very far from help if needed.

Whoah, a hut for 2000. Isn’t that more like, well a hotel?

As always, for more Japanese adventures you can check out Bastish.net

Brave enough to parachute into a rain forest to lend medical aid? Jesse at Treknologies has an idea:

In return for your services RAM will offer the adventure of a lifetime. Parachuting into the middle of the rain forest and providing emergency medicine (or support services for our readers who fancy themselves in the MacGyver role), and then hiking, canoing or 4×4ing it back out of the country is a common experience. For those not experienced in skydiving RAM now also offers training through the nonprofit school called “Airdrop Assist”.

That reminds me, someday I have to sign up for a trail crew.

A New York Times travel piece notes the advantages of a night hike up Mount Fuji:

… my most persistent memory of Mount Fuji remains the night climb in clear, cold air, when the sense of adventure was keen and darkness wrapped me in the mountain’s mystery. That was a walk on the wild side, though all things considered a hike up Mount Fuji is more a cultural than a wilderness experience.

A popular site, commercialized and accessible, it’s near one of the most crowded urban areas on earth. But somehow the power and sacred essence still linger on Mount Fuji like the snow, though you may need Zen mind to perceive it. Like so much of life, Fuji-san is easier to romanticize in a postcard or a poem – or in the dark. Which is finally the best reason to climb it at night.

More Fuji-related links at Gadling.com.