#15: Backpacking & Living on the road
living with a stranger for three days
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I’m currently in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and I haven’t slept in an actual bed the last 9 nights. I’ve either been backpacking in the wilderness or sleeping in my car (I guess this is me testing out #vanlife?) I didn’t plan this big road trip out meticulously enough to have concrete expectations for how I would feel at this point, but it checks out that I’m a bit sleep deprived since it’s hard to get a full eight hours when you’re outside sleeping in a tent or laying in a small SUV that can’t become completely flat. I’ve tried sleeping in several orientations inside my car and I’ve found that sleeping diagonally and trying to get the protruding bump of the backrest near the curve of my lower back results in the least shitty sleep, but I’ve still been waking up before 6am once the morning light emerges and begins to pour through the car windows. What’s been semi-fun is figuring out how to find a place to shower. Not in like a pure joyful way, but more in the sense that I have to be creative given the constraints. For instance, last week, I bought a day pass at a local gym so I could lift and then shower afterwards. After backpacking this weekend, I went back there to see if they would let me shower for free or charge me less than the day pass, but they wouldn’t budge so I ended up going to the local rec center. I was feeling super stiff from all the hiking so I went to a yoga studio to serve two purposes - getting myself loose again, but also to shower.
Exactly a month ago, I packed my car, left the Bay Area, and headed north which brought me to Lassen National Park, Crater Lake National Park, Mt. Shasta, Bend, Portland, Seattle, Glacier National Park, Bozeman, and now Jackson Hole. I started scrambling this plan together a couple months ago when I found myself reflecting on a similar road trip I took back in 2020 with my friend Jon where we drove from Denver to Glacier National Park and back in two weeks. I wanted to head back to the northwest and see the mountains again, during this small window of time in the summer when it’s not too cold to camp and the wildflowers are blooming. For all the problems America has and as easy as it is to complain about how broken our healthcare or education system is, we kind of are the GOAT when it comes to national parks. I was reminded of this a few times when I would hear French, German, Chinese, Korean spoken while hiking. People travel from around the world to visit US national parks. These near-free places to visit are the great equalizer. Whether you’re a bum or a billionaire, what you experience is simply a factor of how fit you are and how far you want to hike. In these places, you can’t buy views.
In the two months or so, I’ve backpacked in Kauai, Shasta, Glacier National Park, and the Tetons with some car camping while in transit. It’s been a big jump given my only backpacking experience was last summer in Denali up in Alaska, but that was just one night and we didn’t even start hiking until 5pm on the first day so it wasn’t even a full two days. I didn’t grow up going on any camping or backpacking trips in Virginia. My first time camping was during spring break of sophomore year. I remember researching what I needed to buy and had no idea what kind of sleeping bag, pad, or tent to get. I also wasn’t sure what was essential vs. a nice-to-have so I ended up buying this giant battery-powered lantern from Costco that required something like 12 D batteries (the big ones). It’s been a gradual progression going from camping right outside a hotel in Zion with plenty of people around me to backpacking for one night in Alaska to multi-day backpacking trips that require bear spray and canister.
The past few weeks of living on the road have felt intense, but in a good way. People often ask me if living nomadically is exhausting to which I say it depends. Back when I was living in a fancy apartment in Hawaii for three months, I didn’t even feel like I was traveling, but this stretch of constantly moving around has definitely felt fast. If I’m not backpacking, then I’m either driving, preparing for an upcoming backpacking trip, or running around trying to find wifi to do my actual job. From the last month of constant backpacking and camping, I’ve started to pick up on some of the recurring themes that keep popping up like self-reliance and minimalism which I’ll try to reflect on.
Teton Crest Trail
The first time I visited in the Tetons was in September 2020. My friend Jon and I were only there for two days so we ended up just finding the two most popular day hikes on AllTrails and doing those. The only other time I have seen such jagged, steep mountains with beautiful lakes was in Patagonia and I remember feeling both mesmerized and stoked to come back. After having tried backpacked in Denali last July and realizing I kinda like it, I googled “best backpacking hike in Grand Teton National Park” and the Teton Crest Trail came up. The TCT isn’t one specific trail with designated campsites - you can mix and match based on how many nights you want to be out for and where you want to start.
Leading up this past weekend, I was feeling a bit nervous since I had encountered a black bear while hiking the Enchantments in Washington and in Glacier just a few days before and also was planning to hike the TCT solo. Some random guy in Glacier casually mentioned that there have never been any recorded bear attacks with groups of 4 or more hikers and that irrationally got into my head a bit. I also decided last minute to hike as much of the TCT as possible in three days instead of the typical four because I wanted the extra time to work and catch up on some life admin stuff instead of being in the backcountry for another day. The fear of running into a bear and pushing hard for three days made me feel a little nervous as I drove south from Glacier. I even briefly considered just bailing entirely and spending the time hunched over my computer trying to catch up on things. I’m glad it was just a fleeting thought.
Regardless of how you want to structure your backpacking hike in the Tetons, if you want to spend any nights within the park wilderness, you’ll need to get a permit. When the permits get released every year, they get booked out within minutes. Getting a backcountry permit for popular hikes in national parks is like trying to buy whatever pair of the most hype sneakers are dropping. You stare at your computer’s clock and once it hits the release time, you mash the refresh button and try to add to cart and checkout as fast as possible. I didn’t have the foresight to try and get a permit back in January, but fortunately the park service always holds off some for walk-ins. I knew that these walk-in permits are still competitive to get so I woke up at 5:30am on Wednesday so I could get in line at the ranger station by 6:15am and wait until they opened at 8am. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking forward to waking up early and waiting for two hours in the cold, but I had no choice and once I got there and started chatting with the other folks in line, I realized we were all stoked to (potentially) spend some nights in the backcountry of the Tetons. The first guy in line had been waiting since 5:30am and needed one night to climb the Grand Teton with his buddies. Next in line was a couple who had done the TCT multiple times before and were planning to do it again. They gave me some pointers on which campsites would be the best given my three day route. I was third in line and behind me was a financial planner who lives a couple hours away in Idaho Falls. Behind him was this girl named Kelly who was also trying to hike the TCT in three days. Once we realized that we were both planning to hike it alone and neither of us had transportation figured out (the trail is point-to-point), we realized maybe it would be better to hike it together. When the alternative to not having a second car at the end of the trail is paying $140 for a private taxi to take you back to the trailhead and there are risks like bears, hiking with a random stranger suddenly becomes a decent idea. We secured permits for two nights in the backcountry, picked up bear canisters, swapped contact info, and planned to link up later that day after I wrapped up work at 7:30pm.
After dropping Kelly’s car off where we would end the hike (in Teton Village), we loaded up her gear into my car and arrived at a campsite near the trailhead. By that time, it was already dark and I hadn’t packed my bag yet, so I scrambled to get all my sleeping, hygiene, food, water, and other random things packed up before climbing into my car for the night. While running around the campsite in the dark trying to get my shit together, I accidentally kicked this concrete curb thing and had to do a lil first aid on myself because part of my left big toe nail was hanging off - not a great way to start a 3 day, 35 mile hike.
The next morning, we drove to the trailhead and started hiking what would be our biggest day of 14 miles and over 4k ft of vert. The trail starts off easy with a couple miles of flat, soft dirt going around the lakes and we start to learn more about each other. She works for the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) in Nevada and spends a lot of her time outside, monitoring and tracking plant life for forest fire assessment among other reasons. She does eight days of work followed by six days off. She doesn’t have a lease and sleeps in her car or camps every night and once that six day break comes around, she leaves town and heads towards a national park to hike, camp, or backpack before it’s time to head back for work.
The night before, on the way to Target to pick up some supplies, I joked that I was more of a city boy and needed some hygiene supplies for when we were in the wilderness. As I reached for a pack of baby wipes (an alright alternative to showers when backpacking), Kelly playfully said, “Wow, you really are a city boy.” I remember thinking it’s so cool how we’re about to do this hike together, yet our lives are so different and we would’ve never crossed paths if we weren’t both waiting in line for permits.
Going back to the hike, we planned to start within the park at String Lake and arrive at the top of the Jackson Hole Mountain Resort two days later which would take us down 4,000 feet for free. I thought this route was better than the reverse direction since each day would get progressively easier in distance and vertical climb, but it also meant that our first day was going to be tough. Psychologically, I also thought we would feel more accomplished if we descended the 4k feet as opposed to taking it up. Also, taking the Jackson Hole tram up is $32 if you take it up, but free if you take it down.
Every now and then, Kelly will stop for a quick sec and point something out to me. First, she told me that ponderosa pine trees have needles in groups of three and white pines have groups of five. Then we stopped at a small thimbleberry bush and we tried a couple. They resemble raspberries, but are more tart, almost like greek yogurt. When we crossed some bear prints in the mud, Kelly said that they were black bear prints (the less scary kind) because there was a clear claw mark in the ground. If it was a grizzly which has longer claws, then the claws would dig into the ground and feel small holes. We saw a few pika, a small rodent that lives in the high alpine. I learned that they can be a sign of climate change since they can overheat and die in temperatures of only 78F or more. Throughout the hike, there’s wildflowers everywhere and Kelly tells me their names. The skinny purple flowers are fireweed and the orange ones are called Indian paintbrush. There’s a white flower called yarrow which is a coagulate so it can come in handy if you ever needed to stop bleeding. I’m seeing a lot of these things for the first time and learning these facts makes me feel like I’m getting a deeper experience rather than just admiring the pretty views. It feels like I’m reading a book slowly rather than listening to an audiobook while walking. I’m paying attention to the details and I’m aware of my surroundings.
The entire hike was beautiful and we reached the top of the tram on Saturday just before 11am, which meant we hiked the 35 miles in just 2.5 days. Other than hiking which took up the majority of the daytime, we also swam in lakes and I snapped a lot of pics on my camera. We’d also take breaks throughout the day to fuel up. On the first day, I ate 4 bagels and 4+ servings of peanut butter. That’s like over 2000 calories of bagel and nut butter and this was also all before 1pm. I ate a few more bars and two dehydrated meals for dinner. Other than the thunderstorm and high winds that we experienced camped out on a cliff over Death Canyon Shelf, everything else went smoothly. When I reached the top of the tram, I could see the Grand Teton sticking out and realized that just two days ago we were on the other side of it and weaved through the entire landscape that was within my field of vision. I was pretty exhausted, but felt accomplished after pushing my body for 2.5 days. Looking back, I’m glad I was down to hike 35 miles and spend two nights with this random stranger I had just met. I learned a lot of new things about wildlife and got a glimpse into a life of a person who I would likely never cross paths with. This whole experience reminded me of why I enjoy traveling so much. The commonalities make us realize that we’re not as different as we think we are, yet the differences force us to audit our privileges and not take things for granted.
Self-reliance
A recurring theme across these four backpacking trips is self-reliance. Once you step onto the trail, there’s no turning back to grab another snack or an extra pair of underwear. You’re forced to survive with what you choose to bring and that ultimately comes down to preparing properly. It also means knowing what you need with the understanding that not everyone has the same needs. From hiking Shasta, I learned that I drink a lot of water and get dehydrated easily so I made sure to bring my 3L water bladder plus an extra 1L water bottle. My left shoelace is getting worn out so in the beginning of the road trip, I bought an extra pair to hang onto. This isn’t necessary, but I carry a satellite phone which gives me peace of my mind on solo trips that I can reach help if I actually get into trouble. There’s practical things like downloading maps offline beforehand and knowing how much distance and vert each day entails. When you’re backpacking, you have to be self-sufficient because there’s no access to get anything you want or need. It’s like the opposite of a lot of recent societal improvements like streaming, food delivery, and 2-day shipping. In some way, spending time outside without access to internet, grocery stores, restaurants, and services can undo the negative side effects of the ingrained instant access economy that we live in. Backpacking is putting yourself into a position of forced self-reliance which essentially boils down to taking care of yourself.
Minimalism
When you’re hiking for multiple days, you have to fit everything you need into your bag and there are constraints. Sure, you could just get a bigger bag, but if you fill it up with a bunch of big, heavy stuff, then you’ll need to carry all of that. Having the physical constraint of a backpack puts you into a situation when you need to be more thoughtful about each thing you’re bringing. I asked myself “How many pairs of shorts do I need to bring?” I came to the conclusion that I should only bring one pair to keep the weight down, but then had to think carefully about which pair of shorts would be the best for the hike. My first aid kit was too big for the pack so I sifted through it and settled on a few key items like medical tape, aspirin, neosporin, and a couple bandaids. You can’t bring everything that you’d like to have and end up deciding to not bring things that aren’t essential like a towel or skincare products or any form of fresh produce (sad).
Related to self-reliance in the context of backpacking is the idea of minimalism. There was a time maybe a year or so ago when I thought I could give minimalism a try. I was drawn to the lifestyle of valuing each thing more and having less clutter, but then I realized that it’s not a functional way of life for me. I’ve realized that I enjoy having material items that provide value to me, but wouldn’t necessarily fit into the doctrine of minimalism. I like having things like my Theragun, a dedicated pair of running shoes that are only for running, and a bunch of ski gear. I don’t think buying something is inherently bad in isolation, but find that in aggregate, we as a society are buying a lot of shit that isn’t that useful. The fact that the SHEIN, the largest retailer in the world, adds tens of thousands of new SKUs a day is not necessary - I’d even say it’s a net negative for society.
When you’re living out of a backpack for a few days, you start to take note of what you find useful and what you could’ve gone without. There are certain things you bring and hope to not have to use like a first aid kit or satellite phone, but for the things that you bring and plan to use and don’t end up using, you learn that they’re not as valuable as you thought. There’s definitely some parallels with this to normal life. Like when you buy some new clothes, but then only wear it a couple times. (not-so-fun-fact: The average garment is only worn 7 times before being discarded) I view backpacking as a way to dip your toes into the waters of minimalism and reap some of the benefits like increased appreciation for what you have and being more thoughtful in general. Getting out there is a temporary experiment to figure out what you truly need, but also realize what items are nice-to-haves that are actually worth it. I always come back to the phrase: “Everything you own, owns a piece of you.”
In conclusion
I’ve wrapped up my last backpacking trip for the rest of the year and I have no idea when my next trip will be. But what I do know is that I will aim to take at least one backpacking trip per year to serve as a reset, but also as a reminder for what truly matters. Maybe next year it’ll be rim-to-rim in Grand Canyon or maybe I’ll go back to Patagonia, who knows. This year, I went from backpacking one night across my entire life to backpacking for a total of eleven nights across four trips. Stoked to see what I cook up next year!
