America´s Most Dangerous Hikes
This pull-out poster for Backpacker´s Survival Issue (Oct. 08) compiled accident statistics, injury trends, tales of disaster and descriptions of the toughest, most threatening trails in the U.S.
Excerpts:
Buckskin Gulch, UT
Gambling in the slots
The Hike
No one´s died here--yet. But the odds mount every time a dark cloud crosses the sky. This torturously twisting sandstone bottleneck is the longest, deepest slot canyon in the Southwest (and probably the world). Its narrow walls carve a 12-mile gash through the southern Utah desert, although most hikers bypass the first of those pinched miles by starting at Wire Pass, a tributary that enters Buckskin from the south and plunges hikers right into its tightest squeeze. The extended exposure to flash flood danger makes Buckskin one of the most dangerous of the Southwest´s numerous risky slots: Never more than ten feet wide, the eerie corridor measures 400 feet deep where it joins the Paria River. Most chilling of all, the entire length of slippery sandstone wall is virtually insurmountable--except for a single escape route at the Middle Route, about 8 miles down from Wire Pass. Should flood waters come charging down the tunnel, you´re no better than a bug in a firehose.
Exhibit A
Not only is it long, but Buckskin also drains a big watershed. Streams all across the Paria Plateau funnel into this slot, where the smooth rock walls support little vegetation that would slow that onslaught of water. The combination of big flows and polished passage result in floods with massive force, and Buckskin´s narrow dimensions allow the torrent nowhere to go but up: Waters here can swell from zero to 20 feet deep in mere minutes. "We´ve never lost anybody," says Paria wilderness ranger Michael Salamacha--but they´ve come close. A few hikers have gotten trapped but miraculously managed to climb above the water. "They were lucky to have been near one of the few ledges that exist," Salamacha says.
Survival Plan
It´s impossible to know for certain where or when storms may strike, but hedge your bets by checking weather updates; noaa.gov issues the region´s most accurate flood forecasts. Avoid Buckskin from July through mid-September, when afternoon storms shower water through the slots. Should you hear water thundering upon you, "Try to scramble up or out," advises Rich Carlson of the American Canyoneering Association. "It´s surprising how many little ledges and ripples you can climb when your life depends on it." Failing that, secure yourself to something: Hikers in other canyons have survived by clinging to debris wedged between the walls. Should the current take you, ride the flood like whitewater, feet downstream, elbows in. Says Carlson, "Hopefully you´re wearing a helmet, because you´re going to be a pinball."
Kalalau Trail, Kauai, HI
Killer coastline
The Hike
Pictures of Kauai´s stunning NaPali Coast stir hikers´ wanderlust, but the Kalalau Trail hugging this dramatic coastline also triggers something far less romantic: Terror. "People have a hard time with some of the dropoffs," says Kathy Valier, a Kauai resident who´s written guidebooks on hiking the island. "The trail bed is narrow and crumbly in places, and I´ve talked with numerous people who have either fallen off the trail or seen it happen." The footing is twice as treacherous after the island´s abundant rainfall turns the track into a greasy slip ‘n´ slide--not amusing when you´re edging along a 300-foot cliff that spills straight down into the rocky surf. But despite such dangers, tons of locals and visitors continue to make the 11-mile (one way) pilgrimage to Kalalau, one of the world´s most paradisical beaches.
Exhibit A
"Surprisingly, we´ve not yet had a single confirmed fatality from somebody hiking or backpacking on the Kalalau Trail," says Alan Carpenter, an archaeologist for Hawaii State Parks. But there have been countless close calls: Hiking the trail with his daughter in 2006, a man slipped on an exposed section of trail and tumbled head-first down the crumbly slope, gaining speed as he neared the 300-foot cliff that would´ve dumped him into the surf. Lucky for him, his head smashed into a rock and arrested his fall. "The impact separated his nostrils from his face, but he survived," says Carpenter. Falling rock is also a risk at the various waterfalls along the trail: At Hanakapai´ai Falls, Hanakoa Falls and near the campground at Kalalau, tumbling water erodes the crumbly volcanic rock and occasionally loosens boulders from the chasm´s steep walls. On Oahu, the state closed Sacred Falls State Park after falling rocks near the cascades killed eight hikers, and Kauai, the oldest, most weathered of Hawaii´s islands, generally experiences even more erosion. Flash floods can turn the many small streams you cross into raging torrents. And the strands you pass offer no relief from your trials: Nearly 100 swimmers have perished in the dangerous currents at Hanakapi´ai.
Survival Plan
Stay steady on the slick, narrow trail by using trekking poles, wearing deep-lugged shoes, and loading heavy items at the bottom of your pack to lower your center of gravity. Stay out of streams when it´s raining, since debris jams can burst and release a sudden wall of water on hikers downstream. Floods on Kauai drop as fast as they rise, so wait out sudden whitewater rather than fording it--even if that means missing your flight.
Huckleberry Mountain, Apgar Range, MT
Fatten griz for winter
The Hike
In Glacier National Park, you could spit and hit a grizzly. Well, almost--the park features the highest bear density in the Lower 48. One recent study counted 563 individuals, and researchers suspect the actual population may be even higher. That´s .35 bears per square mile--or one bear within a one-mile radius of every backcountry campsite. Come summer and fall, aptly named Huckleberry Mountain becomes a magnet for hungry grizzlies, which are commonly found foraging the plump, purple fruit that ripens along the Apgar/Huckleberry Lookout Trail. "Large numbers of bears congregate there when there´s a bumper crop," says supervisory ranger Gary Moses. When huckleberries are bountiful, rangers often close the trail for dayhiking--but backpackers may still complete overnight trips in the area.
Exhibit A
On May 20, 1998, rangers searching the trail near Appistoki Falls discovered a ghastly scene: The mauled body of 26-year-old Craig Dahl, a park concessions worker who´d been tossed into the bushes after a griz had noshed on most of his body. Three days earlier, Dahl had hiked into the Two Medicine area--and never returned. Bears have killed 10 people in Glacier since 1967, and an attack or two occurs each year, typically during the spring (when snowmelt uncovers carcasses of winter-killed animals which bears protect ferociously) and in fall (when berries ripen).
Survival Plan
To avoid crashing a grizzly smorgasbord, don´t linger around food sources like carcasses and berry bushes. Note the wind: Bears smell better than they see, and if you´re walking into the breeze, you might surprise a bear that hasn´t caught your scent. If you do startle one, avoid eye contact and back away slowly. Should the bear charge you, drop to the ground, crouch in a fetal position to protect your vital organs, and clasp your hands across the back of your neck. Then, pray.
Diagnosis of Disaster
Experts dissect the missteps in five recent hiking tragedies.
Jackson Still and Devin Furlong
Los Padres National Forest, CA
A newbie hiker, 23-year-old Jackson Still accompanied his more experienced friend, 20-year-old Devin Furlong, on a backpacking trip across Hurricane Deck, a barren ridgeline blackened by last year´s wildfires. The Deck boasts wide-open views of the surrounding San Rafael Wilderness for eight exposed miles. On June 7, 2008, the second day of their trip, they tackled the steep climb up to the Deck, enduring 100°F heat and thirst: The duo ran out of water by mid-afternoon. Still´s skin became red and dry before he lost consciousness on the shadeless ridge. Furlong hiked out to get help, but by the time rescuers arrived, Still had died of heat stroke. "People often don´t realize that heat can be as dangerous as cold," says Jim Frank, a Santa Barbara County Search and Rescue team member. When hiking in intense summer temps, tackle mighty climbs early or late, and drink a liter of water per hour to replace what you lose through sweat. You can also condition your body for extreme heat by creating those conditions where you live: Exercise for several weeks (or months) in a room with the heat turned up, wear extra layers when you hike, or log spare hours in a sauna.
Roger Cooper
Baxter State Park, ME
On June 26, 2004, 51-year-old Roger Cooper joined three lifelong friends for a hike up Mt. Katahdin in Maine´s Baxter State Park. They were following the Cathedral Trail, a steep, talus-choked route to the summit requiring all-fours scrambling skills, when a 500-pound boulder suddenly split off from the mountainside above and bounced down the route, dislodging more rocks as it fell. One of them hit Cooper, killing him. "It was unpreventable, a pure accident," says Jean Hoekwater of Baxter State Park. But while rock slides seem random, they often occur at predictable places and times. Robert Marvinney, Maine´s State Geologist, says Maine´s coast and mountains are both prone to rockfall, as are most mountainous regions. Exercise special caution on huge talus slopes below cliffs: Those rockpiles indicate boulders have toppled there for years, and still could. Freeze/thaw cycles in spring also dislodge rocks, so slopes under cliffs early in the day, when slides triggered by melting ice and snow are less likely. Another sign of fresh activity: The absence of lichen or moss on rocks.
Jon Francis
Sawtooth National Forest, ID
His summer job at Luther Bible Camp nearly over, 24-year-old Jon Francis was hustling to bag as many peaks as he could before leaving Idaho´s Sawtooth Mountains. He´d tried to round up a posse to hike the Grand Mogul, but finding no takers, he struck out alone on July 15, 2006 to climb the 9,733-foot peak. Reaching the summit was apparently no problem for Francis, a fit 24-year-old who had begun to branch out into mountaineering-style climbs. But instead of taking the easy route down, Francis chose to foot-ski the scree down an ugly Class IV gully that looked like a viable route--but actually steepened into sheer cliffs. The searchers who finally located his body estimate Francis fell 300 feet. Unable to brake his descent, Francis may have accelerated over the unseen cliff, or he may have exited the couloir and fallen while downclimbing without a rope. "He was one of those guys who used his fitness to get him out of trouble rather than his head," surmises Jeff Hasse, who coordinated the extensive search. Hasse says hiking alone didn´t help. "The consequences of failure are much higher when you´re solo, so it´s a good idea to back off a step and stay well within your abilities. Hiking alone is not the time to push it." To help other families of lost hikers, Jon´s family started the Jon Francis Foundation: visit jonfrancis.org for more info.
