Pacific Crest Trail Pioneers Search for a Shadow of the Past: Chapter 13 Page 173

Whatever, no explanations, bragging, or apologies about horses were needed when we met. Instead, at an impromptu convention of the Pacific Crest Chapter of the Wilderness Wanderers of America, we would exchange news from the trail telegraph about a surprising number of friends, that turned out to be mutual acquaintances, or friends of friends.

For example, we helped a hiker cross a raging river without getting his feet wet, and I mentioned something about Dave Johnston, a climber noted for making the first wintertime ascent of Mt. McKinley. I had once gone through the ordeal of trying to follow this man-mountain across an Alaskan river that was just breaking up. The swift current threw big chunks of ice about that tried to knock us off our feet. Dave's method was to load a huge rock on top of his already enormous backpack for extra stability, and just walk on through. My problem, other than barely being able to shoulder the extra weight, was that Johnston stands 6'8" tall; the high water mark on him was too deep for me.

In turn, we heard a story about Dave's sister, Jill, crossing another river, this time on the Appalachian Trail in Maine. What a small world. Today, when most of my very best friends are those that have undertaken some sort of a long expedition, I rarely get into a conversation over the merits of horse packing versus backpacking, canoe against kayaks, etc. To have lived the long trail is dues enough to have joined this society.

Girls playing on a horsepackers swing on the PCT

Girls playing on a horsepackers swing on the PCT

I am making this lengthy explanation about all of this trail camaraderie to present our side of another "incident." A short ways up the trail leading onto the Sky Lakes Wilderness the next morning, we literally ran into a church group on an outing that thought that three miles of blisters entitled them to sprawl across the pathway.

They had unintentionally made an obstacle course of red packs, fishing poles, and litter from their lunch stop laying about. Bernadette was in the lead, and in her little girls' voice, politely asked for the right-of-way. This, by law, was ours over everybody except a larger pack train. We usually relinquished this privilege, unless it would have presented a dangerous situation.

Here the request was answered by this group's leader who tried to tell us that the PCT was for foot traffic only (what did he think we were riding on, wheels?) and that we were "trespassing." To reinforce his judgment, a woman came up to Colette and shouted, "We are not moving for you!"