[pct-l] Excessive Information Gathering on Hikers

[David Plotnikoff]

Hello from a longtime list lurker.

I may regret giving into the temptation to jump in here, but ....

I think the crux of the issue is analagous to organ donation: You 
(the hiker) are not present at the moment of crises (or *perceived 
crises*) to make your wishes known. Your loved ones (or their 
proxies, or trail angels, et al) are called upon to make a decision 
whether to call out SAR or wait it out. It's incumbent on YOU, the 
hiker, to have made your trip plans perfectly clear, and your wishes 
perfectly clear, in writing, in advance, with those who are 
monitoring your progress. What do YOU want done in the event you 
don't check in or show up at a trailhead at the designated time? What 
is your window of wiggle-room to factor in conditions, plain old bad 
luck and the myriad other complications that make up real trail life? 
Did you make this perfectly clear before you left the trailhead?

As a solo hiker with 35 years of backcountry experience, almost all 
of it solo, I have a few standard practices that have kept me (with 
the grace of G-d) out of harm's way:

1) I always leave my trip notes/outline with my wife. She knows 
exactly (or within a few miles) where I'm supposed to be on any given 
day and has a rough idea (within 20 miles) where I'm expecting to 
throw down that night. In the event that a search ever had to be 
initiated, she'd be able to hand over GPS waypoints, maps, a 
narrative and an outline to narrow that area pretty precisely -- 
regardless of what trail registers I did or didn't sign on the way. 
 From the outline, she'd see what I'd flagged as bailout points ... 
just in case.

2) We have reviewed this repeatedly, and we continue to review it: If 
I don't turn up at a trailhead at my time mark (I have been late by 
four or five hours maybe * twice* in the last eight years) -- or if I 
don't call home to check in from a town stop -- what's the buffer in 
this situation? It's a moving measure, factoring in conditions, 
miles, etc. One key consideration: There's a difference between a 
late arrival that probably indicates a non-lethal problem (broken 
pack strap, sprain, etc) and one that might indicate a 
life-threatening situation (likely hypothermia, dehydration, etc.) 
Obviously, if I'm 48 hours late checking in at a point after a 
critical 30-mile water alert or in near-blizzard conditions, she 
knows not to wait any longer to call out the hounds -- because we've 
walked through the risk factors before I ever left the house.

3) It is MY responsibility as a solo hiker to take extra caution 
(always mindful of bailout routes, carrying a buffer of water, food, 
layers, etc.) to ensure my own safety.  I know to never assume 
someone is going to be waiting by the phone to call the trooops out 
if I get in trouble. And in the event I do get in trouble, I know to 
stay ON the PCT unless I am damned sure I can walk all the way under 
my own power out for help.

4) One last point on communication and experience: There was a 
situation in 2004 when I had made it 2/3 of the way through the climb 
of Castle Crags on a 104-degree day and my thumbnail calculations 
showed I couldn't make it to the Sevens for water. Facing impending 
dehydration, I swallowed my pride and backed off. Backtracking to the 
Castle Crags campground for a grand total 27 mile day (with zero 
forward miles!) and a humiliating defeat. The point: Rather than make 
a foolhardy push that I knew to be too risky, I backed off. I called 
my wife from Ammirati's and relayed this to her. "Listen, I'm going 
to be a day late into Etna... so roll everything back a day. It 
couldn't be helped. Hit a real hot, dry, slow stretch on the climb 
today." She understood completely. At this point, she knows where my 
acceptable level of risk is. She sleeps well at night when I'm out 
there because she knows from long experience I'm not going to go 
beyond a certain threshold of risk.

I have been very fortunate, over many thousands of trail miles (and 
eight seasons on the PCT) to have never had a problem or injury. The 
many hours and days of planning and preparation are a form of 
insurance: You hope you never ever need it. But you do it 
nonetheless, because it's just the prudent, responsible thing to do.

I hope you all will be as fortunate as I have been. I also hope you 
all will take the prudent steps that will preclude those who love you 
from having to make rash or ill-advised decisions about your hike.

Best,

David Plotnikoff