As the spring hiking season approaches, veterans of California’s trail community are urging long-distance backpackers to take extra precautions to avoid catastrophe. Looming over the season is the unceasing threat of the coronavirus as well as a tragic snow-related death last year on the Pacific Crest Trail.
Trail authorities are chiefly concerned that inexperienced hikers, seduced by the prospect of a life-changing adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and the natural beauty of the John Muir Trail (JMT), may be venturing unprepared into dangerous situations in the remote wilderness.
Whereas older generations of outdoors enthusiasts likely built their skills and experience under the guidance of seasoned mentors, younger hikers seem prone to digging for trail expertise in internet blogs and social media. Hundreds of thousands of through-hikers coalesce around hubs on Facebook to discuss strategy and gear. But the vibe of comment threads can turn macho or hostile, and the information exchanged isn’t always sound.
“A lot of the voices (in online trail groups) are great, but some have been historically dismissive of safety,” said Jack Haskel, trail information manager at the Pacific Crest Trail Association, which issues long-distance permits to PCT hikers on behalf of the U.S. Forest Service. “Something we’ve been talking about as a long-distance hiking community for years now is, how do we build a community of alumni who stick around and offer their insights to new generations of hikers?”
Through-hiking the 2,660-mile PCT, which spans mountain ranges between Mexico and Canada, is a six-month commitment to self-sufficiency in the woods. The highly popular JMT, which extends from Yosemite Valley 217 miles south to Mount Whitney, overlaps with hazardous sections of the PCT in the High Sierra.
“This is not a beginner experience, but a lot of people hike the JMT as their first through-hike,” said Inga Aksamit, of Sonoma, who administers several JMT groups on Facebook. She says JMT permits, which become available online each morning for spring and summer hiking dates, are getting snapped up within a minute or two. “That’s really concerning to me,” she said.
A portion of the Mist Trail is closed because of dangerous winter conditions in Yosemite National Park.
Max Whittaker / Special to The ChronicleThe two trails, once the byways of fringe dirtbaggers, now draw tens of thousands of nature lovers to California’s mountains each year. Many aspire to follow in the footsteps of Cheryl Strayed, whose 2012 hiking memoir, “Wild,” became a best-seller and popular film, or re-create the spectacular nature photos of their favorite Instagram influencers.
Last year, the onset of the coronavirus pandemic prompted the Forest Service to stop issuing long-distance PCT permits partway through the season. But many hikers proceeded anyway, sparking vitriolic debate and shaming in the online groups where hikers congregate. This year, permits are back on — the trail association anticipates a return to pre-pandemic levels of about 7,900 permits even as international hikers are expected to stay home.
The potential for hikers to carry the virus into the 30-some-odd remote mountain towns strung along the PCT users is a theme of many social media discussions this year.
“It’s not just the risk in the wilderness this year,” Haskel said. “We’re worried about our trail communities.”
No one keeps precise statistics on trail deaths, injuries and rescues, but there have been at least 15 fatalities on the PCT since the early 1980s. The top causes are drownings at river-crossings and falls. In 2019, a 67-year-old man hiking alone died on the trail near Mather Pass after apparently slipping on a small patch of ice and hitting his head on a rock.
June is regarded as the most treacherous month to be on the trails. That’s typically the peak of seasonal snowmelt in the High Sierra, when summer’s heat flushes torrents of water through alpine streambeds that hikers must ford. Two female through-hikers drowned in Sierra river crossings in July 2017 following a winter of unusually high snowfall.
With so much new interest in long-distance treks, administrators like Aksamit feel more compelled to issue words of warning.
“I sound the alarm on posts that we get on June entries to caution solo hikers against tackling stream crossings on their own,” Aksamit said. “People think we’re fear-mongers sometimes, but a lot of people just don’t know what they’re getting into.”
An unlikely mentor has emerged this year. Doug Laher, a medical association executive from Fort Worth, Texas, has never set foot on the PCT or JMT. But last year, 11 days into his PCT adventure, Laher’s 22-year-old son, Trevor, slipped on an icy slope in the San Jacinto Mountains, near Palm Springs, and fell to his death.
The tragedy rippled through the trail community, in part because Trevor was a strong young man who appeared to be prepared for the hazards of high-mountain hiking. But also because Doug Laher has since accumulated a deep knowledge of trail dangers and spoken about his son’s death in painful detail on the culture’s niche podcasts and online forums. A heartbreaking essay he wrote about Trevor’s fatal hike was published on the Pacific Crest Trail Association’s website last month.
“Most days I drift, merely existing in a world when everyone else is living,” Laher wrote. “But this helps: the idea that Trevor’s death didn’t happen in vain. There must be something good that rises from our tragedy.”
Trevor’s fateful trek appears to be sinking in as a cautionary tale. Doug Laher says he has received hundreds, if not thousands, of emails and Facebook comments from grateful hikers.
One came from Claire Stam, 24, of Jackson, Wyo., who hiked most of the PCT last year.
Trevor Laher’s death occurred two months before Stam’s hike began, and she had read an early account of the episode. After five months on the trail, Stam and her partner had put the bulk of the trek behind them when they encountered deep snow in Washington’s Cascade Range, 30 miles shy of the trail’s end at the Canadian border. While standing in a blizzard and considering whether to push on, Trevor’s story flashed into her mind. She and her partner decided to call off their hike and go home.
“I was so devastated,” Stam said. “Part of me thought I could do it if I really focused. But then I thought, Trevor probably thought the same thing. I knew that if he had a second chance, he would have made the decision that I made.”
Trevor Laher hikes the Pacific Crest Trail in 2020 before his death on Apache Peak in the San Jacinto Mountains.
Courtesy Doug Laher 2020Doug Laher’s message to through-hikers is straightforward: Do your research, carry appropriate gear and know how to use it, read the trail conditions and be prepared to abandon your hike. But to hikers who have in many cases dreamed about the PCT for years and rearranged their lives for the trek, turning away from a rushing river or snowy ridge can feel like chickening out.
“Sometimes through-hikers don’t know where to distinguish the line between discomfort and danger,” Stam said.
Still, Doug Laher intends to continue reaching out to hikers. “I’ve found my new purpose in life,” he said. “If I can influence a hiker’s decisions to be more safe, that’s a win.”
Gregory Thomas is The San Francisco Chronicle’s editor of lifestyle and outdoors. Email: gthomas@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @GregRThomas
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Dangers of hiking Pacific Crest Trail loom as 2021 season approaches - San Francisco Chronicle
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