San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1998, 3^rd edition.

477 pp., $16

On a recent trip in New Foundland, I came cross John, an Australian wilderness aficionado. We hiked and camped together for a a couple of weeks, and this reminded me again of different hiking styles. I have spent years of my life hiking on and off the trail, yet I rarely carry a topographical map, emergency kit, stove, camera, or freeze-dried food. I travel as light as I can, alone, taking my chances. John plans his trips. As may be expected, my inferiority in all things technical was striking. To set a tent up at night, for instance, I awkwardly held my flashlight with my teeth. John used a fancy "torch" specially fitted to be tied around the forehead. Walking Softly in the Wilderness is written for people like John: smart enough to spend some time, before hitting the trail, learning how to backpack as safely, comfortably, and tracelessly as possible.

Before delving into the nuts and bolts of backpacking, the book provides some useful information. There are some 13 million backpackers in North America, most of whom are probably favorably disposed towards wilderness preservation. But with so many lovers of nature out there, "hardly a wilderness anywhere is free of recreational scars: physical damage, ecological damage, and crowding."

We thus find ourselves in a paradoxical situation. One goes to nature searching, in part, freedom from formal rules. But, as the number of wilderness visitors rises, regulatory agencies impose restrictions and quotas. To avoid such interference, hikers need to act responsibly.

Consequently, the book focuses on low impact hiking: sleeping on bare ground (not on vegetation); leaving no traces behind, carrying a stove in, trash and leftover food out; following agency rules.

Many people stay away from wild places because they don’t know how to start. But "the world of the trails is not hard." It’s easy, cheap, and well worth the discomforts and risks. One begins by hiking in a nearby park, getting in shape through aerobic exercises and weight lifting, wearing in a pair of shoes, and mastering the art of reading compass and topographical maps.

The book then goes on to detail the what, where, when, and how of low impact hiking equipment—boots, clothing, pack, sleeping bag, stove.

There follows an extensive discussion on how to prepare for a trip, how to, for example, pick a place and a time, secure maps and information, plan the hike, do the needed paperwork, and get there.

Perhaps the most useful section of the book deals with the hiking experience itself. Wilderness skills are discussed—such things as stream crossing, climbing steep hills, consulting map and compass, making and breaking camp, cooking, setting up and breaking camp, sanitation, avoiding and dealing with trouble (e.g., bugs, frostbites, heat stroke). A few chapters explore hiking off the trail, in deserts, in wintertime, or with kids.

The book concludes with a bird’s eye survey of wilderness areas in North America, the history of the conservation movement, proposals to improve the current wilderness system (especially by creating a vast, interconnected system), and suggestions of what individuals can do to protect wild things and places.

Walking Softly contains countless useful tips: one can be too hot in a sleeping bag (and not only too cold); if seen five seconds before it is heard, a lightening is one mile away; in a lightening storm, oak trees should be avoided; wildfires advance sixteen times faster uphill than down; freeze-dried foods taste better when simmered for a couple of minutes in a pot; the ground-to-air signal for serious injury is a vertical bar.

The book is confined to hiking in North America. If you plan to visit wild areas outside of North America, or if you visit wilderness areas anywhere with pack animals, on horseback, with kayak or canoe, you may wish to consult other publications. There is not enough information here on specific wilderness areas (for the U.S., I first consult a map of the national wilderness preservation system and then call to request a map of the particular area I plan to visit). Likewise, Hart’s book explains what to look for in hiking gear, but gives no brand names. To find out which particular tent or sleeping bag will best fit your needs and budget, you will have to consult other publications or friends.

I can’t help feeling, as well, that there is something amiss in spending thousands of dollars and dozens of hours preparing and planning a return to nature. I have fraternized with wilderness dwellers in countries like Australia and Nepal, people who manage quite well on their own with just a bit of courage, stoicism, common sense, tradition, and implements. Hart’s approach is perhaps more comfortable and safer than theirs, but it diminishes the very reasons one pilgrimages to nature in the first place—to live simply, romantically, poetically, and self-sufficiently, if only for a few days, weeks, or months.

Yet, as if to prove the point of Hart’s book—that wilderness travel merits considerable study and preparation—I have just received a package from John, my one-time hiking companion, containing photos and a headlamp. I haven’t changed my mind about a camera yet, but, on my next wilderness trip, I certainly plan to use that fancy flashlight—as well as a few other valuable tips I have just garnered from Walking Softly in the Wilderness.

Moti Nissani

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