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Best "Death March" stories.

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Best "Death March" stories.

Postby Cross Country » Thu Jan 26, 2012 10:18 pm

I realize that compared to many of you I have been a piker at this. Here are mine:

1982: I hiked out of Kings Canyon to Grizzly Meadow with John Taylor, a previous student (PE) of mine. He starred on the 7th grade basketball team that I coached at Eastmont Middle School in Montebello. I was a coach and PE teacher there. I taught there for 30 years and when I retired I was the longest continuous teacher at that school.
It was in July and John had just finished a basketball spring intercollegiate season and therefore in great shape. We arrived late the night before, and therefor started our hiking with 4-5 hours sleep. We took a nap of almost 1 hour half way up, despite molesting flies. Upon reaching the meadow I knew that John (the 20 year old basketball player in great shape) was well behind me. At that elevation I had little fear of bears and of leaving my pack in the open but had some trepidation of large rodents. There were virtually no rocks and therefor no threat of marmots. I left my pack in the meadow (near a creek) and returned downhill 20-30 minutes to encounter John. At that point I took his pack (we each had a little more the 40 pounds) and we returned up to the meadow where we camped on our way to Swamp Lakes.

1972: I (we) hiked to Grouse Lake on 3-4 hours sleep from Kings Canyon. Lee Starke left his pack at Grouse to come back to the Meadow (40 minutes below) to carry Wendy's pack to the Lake.

1981: I hiked from Kings Canyon to the Woods Creek junction by 5:00. During lunch at Paradise I took a nap in the chair I brought.

1990: Mike Carter (age 9 with a full pack) hiked from Paradise Valley to Woods Lake in one day. This is Mike the following morning, sound asleep with the sun brightly in his face. He had to be really tired to sleep like that.
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Mike sleeping Woods.jpg



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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby Wandering Daisy » Fri Jan 27, 2012 9:38 am

According to my husband, every trip I take is a death march! How about some "Death March criteria"? I am the bivouac queen. I have been on over a dozen climbs where we ran out of time and spent the night huddled on a ledge. The most notable (in my more risk-taking youth) is getting caught near the top of a technical rock climb, cliffed out, traversed over slabs that became soaked and slippery (no retreat), rained, thundered, lightening, started rappeling to keep warm, got dark, then froze, huddled on ledge until storm passed, continued rappeling 3AM moonlight, four rappels later reached the base and stuck ropes on the last rappel. Short nap, then, retrieved stuck ropes, got lost moving to next camp (have you ever tried to navigate on a 1905 30-minute quadrangle that had the creeks flowing in the wrong direction?), 25 miles and 2 days later finally catching up with the others in our group. Is that a death march? Or is up over Taboose Pass to Cardinal lake in a day a death march? Once I left at 9AM from Chasm Lake with a small day-pack (a few trail bars) to "peek over the edge" into Enchanted Gorge, got enchanted, and continued down, bivouaced on the way up Goddard canyon and returned to my camp by 1PM next day. Is that a death march? Are we talking planned death marches or unplanned death marches? A few days turned into death marches after a planned long day ended at dried-up water sources and I had to continue several more hours to find water. My latest adventure, last month, was at Point Reyes, where the trail I planned on taking was washed out so I had to detour 5 miles, ending the day with 14 miles and dragging into camp at dark. It was an optional death march because I could have illegally camped at several places with water if I had chosen to. But I had paid for the campsite at Coast Camp and by golly, I was going to get there!
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby whrdafamI? » Fri Jan 27, 2012 12:36 pm

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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby RoguePhotonic » Fri Jan 27, 2012 5:37 pm

I've never been one for death marches as I simply don't have it in me. I don't live a healthy life style and my body is not built for such things but the closest I have come in terms of long days and not literal death marches is when I did the High Sierra Trail in 4 days. I had been home for over a month after my 39 day trip of 2009 and I couldn't bare the thought of sitting at home any longer while I was not working when the Sierra is waiting! So I set out and went to Hamilton Lake the first night then all the way to the Kern Hotspring on day two. That day I had hit the trail at 6:40am and did not arrive at the hotsprings until 9:30PM. After that I was wasted and was only able to make it to the Wallace Creek / JMT junction on day 3. Then I went up the Whitney Crest without enough time to climb the summit since I had a ride coming so I went up over and down to the bottom. I was hurting for sure but I made it.

Soaking under the stars in a hotspring after 19.7 miles of hard hiking was a special thing for sure.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby giantbrookie » Sat Jan 28, 2012 1:00 am

I didn't start using the term 'death march' for any hike I went on until 1977 when I went with my dad to Mt. Goddard while not fully recovered from my first knee injury. That it was so difficult for me was partly because I was in poor shape. Day 1 went from Sabrina over Haeckel Col. This was back at the time when the Blue Lake-Dingleberry cutover had that amazingly annoying switchback in it. Some angry hiker had scratched a zero after that "1" mileage distance to Dingleberry on the sign at Blue Lake. In any case, I was gassed by the time I started ascending above Hungry Packer Lake. At one point my dad went off to take some photos and returned to find me asleep. The shadows were getting mighty long as we surmounted the knife edged crest at Haeckel Col. It was really dark by the time we reached the bottom of the west slope. We unrolled our sleeping bags and curled up between rocks along the shore of the unnamed lake 11822 E of Sapphire (Sapphire L. had been the intended day 1 destination); I'm guessing it was close to 9 pm. I don't recall eating anything for dinner--I think I just conked out and started sleeping. We were off the next morning and set up camp at Sapphire before donning our rucksacks to go after Goddard. We did the very long class 2 talus slog via Wanda Pass. Wow that was long hike for me. My dad patiently waited for me. Earlier, on the long traverse there he sustained an injury (hip) on a fall on that talus that might have been the precursor to the pains that shut down his backpacking days 15 years later. In any case it was getting pretty late by the time I reached the summit. It was pitch dark by the time we made Wanda. In those days I had amazing night vision and this allowed us to grope our way back to Sapphire; we reached camp at about 10 pm. I fell asleep but my dad figured we needed to eat something, so he fired up the stove, cooked dinner, and woke me up to eat. I had no trouble falling back asleep after dinner. The next two days were much easier as my dad felt we should just beat a retreat rather than extend the trip and start picking off more peaks around Evolution.

For years that 1977 Goddard trip remained the trip we would simply call THE Death March. We certainly did some ambitious trips that were probably more physically difficult after that, but I was in better shape and my dad was still super strong, too, so we didn't regard them as particularly grueling. These trips included a 2 day trip that involved climbing Lone Pine Peak on day 1 while hiking to Meysan Lake, then climbing Irvine, Mallory, LeConte, packing up, hiking out, and driving all the way back to Palo Alto. In 1980 my dad and I did what we called our signature trip. Day 1 we went over Taboose Pass and into Upper Basin. I remember thinking we could have been much faster except for these really strong winds that blew down the canyon and pushed our big sail-like external frame packs. On day 2 we climbed Split and Prater, then hiked all the way out, hiking the last 2 hours in pitch darkness guided by this sliver moon that just happened to shine down the canyon. The funny thing is that both times I've hiked out to Taboose Creek have been in darkness--I did this with Judy in 1997 to conclude our "Sawboose" trip. That day began with fishing unnamed lakes above Bench Lake (we were camped at Bench), then fishing some other trailless lakes somewhere else, then thinking we were going to camp at the unnamed lake south of Taboose Pass (not a flat spot to be found and annoyingly small fish), only to make the really late call to dash all the way out.

My dad in fact considered the "warm up" trip before the 1980 Taboose-Split-Prater trip as THE death march for him. As with my Goddard experience 3 years earlier, this was partly a matter of conditioning. My dad was always in amazing cardio shape (he had run a 2:58 marathon but 4 years before in 1976) but he needed a "tune up" hiking trip before doing something like that Taboose-Split hike. I had been working as an exploration geologist in Colorado and Montana all summer. I had worked out of this cabin and had been somewhat bored in my spare time so I cooked and baked a lot and came home to CA in superb hiking shape (lots of hiking every day) and carrying a bit of extra fat from eating all of my baked goods. This was the greatest hiking shape I have ever been in (hiking strength plus extra fat reserves). I figured I needed to tune up my dad, so I picked Goat Mtn and Grouse L. as an overnight warm up trip. My dad and my brother (who was dragged along on this) thought this a monumentally harsh trip for them right out the gate for their first Sierra trip of the year (5500' of gain or something to Grouse).

For me, I think I exceeded my Goddard standard on my first Edyth Lake trip in 1986. I wanted to to via Hetch Hetchy but didn't make the quota (Memorial Day weekend) and went out of Cherry Lake instead. The drop into the canyon from the north side and the march up the canyon is way harder than the south side. There was some amazing brush and some rather dicey stream crossings (not of Kendrick itself-that was uncrossable). We didn't bring enough trail snacking food because of believing a false urban legend about the park moving their problem bears to Kendrick Canyon. The gully above the lower group of lakes is the single worst brush crawl I've done in my life--I think my friend and I took at least 2 hours to surmount 400' worth of gully. We moved our campsite away and downstream of Edyth when we found my proposed tentsite occupied by the biggest rattler I've ever seen in the Sierra. On the descent I recall doing this tarzan thing and swinging on a branch to let me down over a short drop off in that infernal gully. On the last day we bailed from a bit downstream of Edyth. My routefinding that had been on the button all trip failed on the last move out of the canyon and I took us up 800' too high. No matter at this point, given that it was all easy, brush free descent from there to the Kibbie trail, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Although an easy descent awaited us, both me and my friend had hit the wall. Our knees buckled and we sat down in the granite sand. With no remaining snack food, we needed something and we realized we still had some hot chocolate and a packet of ramen. So we fired up the stove and ate and I suspect had a bit of a nap. This gave us enough energy to get out.

I had a pretty long dayhike day in 1984 on a climb of Sill from Dusy 11393. This wouldn't have been so long were it not for a major leader snafu (by me for not waiting for my whole crew) and a route finding gaffe by my dad who was part of the trailing pair with a buddy of mine (gaffe would have been prevented had I not let our group get so strung out). We became separated on the long traverse below North Pal. My dad never got lost so I never really looked behind me as I traversed with my brother. We reached the far ridge and prepared to climb up toward Sill. We looked back and saw no sign of my dad and my friend. It turns out they had heard some voices on North Pal and thought is was me and my bro. They started up the SW chute, but quickly realized their error. By the time they reached me and my bro it was getting a bit late. My dad declared that it was much too late to attempt Sill but we would climb to the rim above the hanging valley before turning back. Upon reaching the rim he looked at his watch and said we'd have to hurry to make it back to 11393 before dark. I thought about it and told them that I could climb Sill and catch up with them before they reached 11393. After some debate, we split up and I headed for Sill. After climbing Sill I did not head directly back to camp. Instead I took a detour to the Barrett Lakes, for I had been carrying my fishing gear along on this whole thing. After 45 minutes without a strike, I headed up the talus toward Thunderbolt Pass. Apparently at this point my tank was nearly empty. That ascent felt mighty difficult and I regretted my decision to have descended to the lake (I suppose I would have had a bit more bounce in my step had I caught some nice fish). I crested out then turned on my boulder hopping jets and caught up with the other three of my group about 2/3 of the way down to 11393. It was still light when we reached the lake (barely).

I guess there is one more recent death march experience for me and this also has a bit of a conditioning factor in it. This trip was in 2002 to the Tableland, Deadman Cyn, Glacier Ridge, Cloud Cyn., Colby Pass, Triple Divide etc. Day 1 was to some unnamed lakes N of the Tableland. Day 2 was to a lake on the west flank of Glacier Ridge. The problem was that I came down with a cold as of day 2 on that trip and I was wearing some really ill fitting boots (a result of a 3rd resole). My feet were a bloody mess and I had a moderately high fever at the end of day 2. I was in such bad shape we made a very short day 3 over to Josephine Lake and I spent much of the day relaxing. By day 4 I think I had both feet duct taped in an attempt to cut down the friction inside my boots. The trip concluded with an on trail segment (High Sierra trail) and one of my companions gave me his boots to wear while he put on Tevas for the trail hiking. That is probably the most physically miserable I've been on any long trip I've taken--this vastly exceeded anything I experienced on the '77 or '86 trips. Nonetheless, there were many positive highlights from that trip, even though the fishing was decidedly mediocre. Thus even the most painful of all of my Sierra trips can hardly be called a negative experience (I'd probably rank it among my top 6 or 7 trips of all time).
Since my fishing (etc.) website is still down, you can be distracted by geology stuff at: http://www.fresnostate.edu/csm/ees/facu ... ayshi.html
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby balzaccom » Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:33 am

The best example I can provide was forty years ago, when a friend and I were working our way down the Sierra parallel to the JMT. We were at Ottoway Lake and he woke up that morning saying that he felt really crappy--so crappy that he really thought he ought to see a doctor.

Not a good place to be.

So we packed up and hiked 16 SLOW miles to Glacier Point, with him coughing and suffering. It wasn't very much fun for either of us, but he definitely had the worst of it!
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby paul » Sat Jan 28, 2012 4:35 pm

Mine comes from a ski trip. We were in the Emigrant Wilderness in 2007. It was a low snow year, so the road was open to Kennedy meadows and we came in from there, hiking about 8 miles of trail before we hit snow. We were up there for a glorious week, and then on what would have been our second to last night, at Grizzly Meadow, a storm came in. In the morning, visibility was minimal - you could see the trees but only the ones close to you, otherwise pretty much whiteout. The lovely corn snow from the day before was now frozen hard and corrugated, with a dusting of fresh snow on top. We had planned to head out that day and take 2 days to reach the trailhead. So we started off. the snow was horrible for skiing, but not bad for walking, so we put the skis on our packs and walked. At first, the walking was pretty good - at least as far as walking in plastic backcountry ski boots goes. The crusty snow was firm enough to walk on top while having just enough give to allow for good footing. On skis it would have been like a corrugated ice rink. Once we were over Brown bear pass, the snow became a softer and deeper. I though maybe I'd ski instead of walking. Problem was, in the flat light we couldn't actually see the surface of the snow, so any minor undulation, like say a ditch 6 feet deep, was invisible. After a few falls and not much progress, the skis were back on the pack. On we went, no stops, just plodding. We reached the point where we had expected to camp by about 1: 00, having started at 9. We set up our floorless shelter and ate something. It had been snowing all along, and the temperature was a little above freezing now, so we were getting wet. We both felt that camping here and trying to dry out in the tent just to pack up in the morning and slog the rest of the way was not too appealing, so we packed up and kept going. The snow thinned as we went, and we got wetter as we went, no stops, just slogging along. Once were were off the continuous snow, the walking in ski boots became pretty uncomfortable. In the end we arrived at Kennedy Meadows around 6:00, after about 15 or 16 miles walking in ski boots with one stop. We were totally beat. Surprisingly, my feet held up well. My shins were pretty bruised by the boots, but my feet were fine - amazing what heat-moldable liners can do for you. But my buddy's feet were hamburger, took him a week or more to be able to wear normal shoes again.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby AlmostThere » Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:45 pm

I got back into backpacking with a tale of many woes....

The trail to Sykes Hot Springs is hiked by a zillion people who aren't backpackers - a lot like the trail to Half Dome, and with similar elevation gains spread out over the 10 miles out to it. Why did I choose this trail? I guess I had the thought that it being so popular would mean I wouldn't be out there alone despite hiking solo. I should have waited and gone to Yosemite or something.

I had the wrong pack, wrong shoes, and no water filter. Figured I would boil water for the hike out. Well, that would have worked out okay. But.

I hiked in thinking, piece of cake. about eight miles I was pretty desperate to see the end of the trail. About nine I wondered about my sanity. I reached the river and stared - it was shallow but wide and fast, and hella cold, and it was quickly getting dark. What I didn't know because I did not do enough research was that I should have turned left and proceeded down the side of the river I was on, instead of trying to cross. But I saw tents and campfires and assumed I needed to be on the other side. I thought about the rocks and crossed with the boots on - it was freezing cold! and now I had wet boots.

I set up the hammock and got the stove going - the White Box works great! except when you kick it over. There goes the extra fuel. I stomped out the burning leaves.... Scorched the pasta in the pot, had to scrub and scrub with sand.

Went over and shared a campfire with some folks, and put my boots on the rocks to dry - pretty soon they were steaming in front of the fire. I kept turning them and hoping they wouldn't freeze at night. Must have been mostly successful since I did not wake up to ice blocks. I hung my food (and the food bag of the two guys I shared the fire with, they were mostly clueless about that sort of thing) and went to bed. The Ray Way quilt and blue CCF worked fine. The hammock worked fine. Got up to go pee once, got back without incident.

Woke up in the morning and discovered the short plants under the hammock were poison oak. Oh, well. Packed up, ate breakfast, had just enough fuel for a cup of tea, out of fuel. I had a liter of water left. Okay, guess I'll just get back to the car and get a bottle of water out of the trunk, no problem.

Crossed the river barefoot - feet turned blue, literally, blue toenail beds and all. Was frreeeeeeeezing cold. On went the dry socks and the semi dry boots. Got to hiking and that was okay, warmed up fine. About four miles and my feet hurt like hell since the boots are a size and a half too small (which I figured out later). Thirsty as heck, I run out of water. Somewhere around Barstow Flats, the halfway point, I start to cry. People were hiking the other way and looking at me like I had a disease. I was limping, crying, hunched over - my back and hips felt terrible, the pack turned out to be sized wrong - and a total mess. Dehydrated as I was I just kept limping in a sort of haze and crossed no less than three small streams on the way to the car, and then crossed a nice big one on a log, hobbled up to the parking lot, dropped everything on the asphalt, and sat there with the boots off guzzling what water I had stored in the trunk. After picking myself up and putting everything in the car, I drove (socks only, no shoes) toward home. Had to take an hour rest stop and take a nap, I felt like I was dying of thirst and tired. Not sure how I got home - but managed to do it without incurring damage to myself or others, dumped everything in the living room floor, and left a trail of clothing to the shower.

That's when I found the tick embedded in a place no woman wants some bloodsucking critter to be. A hand mirror didn't help. It's 10 pm and no urgent care available - and I am supposed to be at work in the morning. I know that there will be no sleep with that thing embedded in me and my dehydrated brain decides the emergency room is the only recourse. Three hours later, the doctor stopped laughing and took a scalpel to it because it was not coming out with any amount of gentle pulling. Sadly, this was in a 30 day window between one insurance plan and another (just switched jobs) and I made precisely $50 more than I should have to qualify for any kind of aid (medical insurance loser!) so this resulted in a long period of small payments on a hefty bill.

The next day, I go to work. I feel strangely later in the day, and on a trip to the restroom I notice a rash on my thigh. (Which is not where the bite was.) An hour later I check it again. It's progressed four inches down the leg. I go to the urgent care and am immediately given two shots of antibiotics and scrip for Doxycycline, which is for Lyme but also fixes a multitude of other similar infections. That stuff makes me ill... I took all of it over the following five days as instructed and felt nauseous the whole time.

Months later, I am nearly sent to collections by the urgent care, who transposed the numbers on my address and were sending bills to a nonexistent address. I had called to check because I hadn't got a bill. I shouted. Not Happy.

And you guessed right - I never found the Hot Springs, or got near them. Was too dark and too cold - I have since gone back after doing enough research and managed to get in one of them. I love hot springs.... Finding them the first time might have led me to also find the tick, sadly enough.

To sum up:
Always take water treatment - NO, REALLY. JUST DO IT.
If your water treatment breaks or is used up - just drink the friggin' water.
Don't kick your stove. It Ends Badly.
Tick checks every night.
No more packs or shoes the wrong size - dayhikes are the ideal test, not backpacks.
When you set up the shelter, regardless of what it is, look up, down, side to side, and make sure you are not going to have live things or dead things decreasing your quality of life. Dead tree branches or live poison oak, or grass stems covered with ticks... or rising river water. Turned out I had picked a spot pretty close to the river, too.

And most importantly - Don't freak out about it. Just take a deep breath. Have a snack. Relax. Whatever "it" is, "it" will not improve if you are so freaked you're not thinking straight. I should have called and left a message for my boss, got a cheap motel room, figured out the tick, got to an urgent care instead of a hospital, and never let myself get dehydrated no matter what else was going on.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby Cross Country » Tue Jan 31, 2012 7:35 pm

Those were some great stories, even better that I had hoped for. After these stories I'll bet lots of people don't write theirs because they feel that theirs won't measure up. I hope people get over that because despite these stories being difficult to match I'll but there are still some really good stories out there. I hope you write more, so I can read more. For me, these kind of stories are really entertaining.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby sparky » Wed Feb 01, 2012 1:43 pm

Death march stories are all relative I guess. One of my most memorable was walking 3 or 4 miles through sand in the desert in MX boots after crashing on my dirtbike in a tricky area and breaking my collarbone. Really had no idea where I was other than NE of camp, and just told my buddy I would walk southwest until I hit a road. Friend rode back to camp to get his truck as I just had to hope he could get to me, let alone find me. About 4 hours after crashing I was extracted, and bike was found and extracted the next day by other friends.

I have ran out of water a couple times like WD due to dried water scources, I try to be careful with that, but being in Southern CA, sometimes they are unexpectedly dry. The last one was going into the end of the grand canyon from the lake meade area. 15 or more miles off trail unable to acess the river. We did find water that night after contemplating jumping into the river and floating to lake meade. The bushwacking sucks there. I brought jiffy pop that trip, and it was a delicacy after that day. I have been thirstier, but was quite tired.

Being forced out cold and wet, hot and thirsty, AMS, blisters, failed equipment, sudden fowl weather, day hiking, or days out can all be excruciating. By not getting negative about the situation and just living in the moment getting done what needs to be done makes the path to freedom an exersize more of the mind than if the body. There is a saying "free your mind, and your a$$ will follow". :-D. Same holds true for a death march, and I have marched my butt out a few times, and I have seen people get negative, and it makes the death march much worse.

Just think of all the food your going to eat when you get out!
There is a million ways to be human, all are worthwhile.

True happiness is the absence of striving for happiness.
-Chuang Tzu.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby Wandering Daisy » Thu Feb 02, 2012 9:41 am

My #1 death march actually lasted 35 days. It was not in the Sierra, so I wondered if it "qualified". But here it is.

In 1969 I contracted to work at NOLS, but had to be a student on my first course. I got a free scholarship in exchange for working the remainder of the summer for free. That June NOLS course was actually documented in a TV special and aired in 1970 on the Alcoa Hour, as "30 Days to Survival". Actually my group stayed separate from the group that was featured in the film and only interacted with the film crew for one day when they filmed a climb we did. The film is interesting only in that it really shows what the weather was like. When I watch it now, I am amazed that we actually did not realize how bad it was! Cold and snow became so normal we almost forgot to think about it! My biggest disappointment was the fact that we had little climbing opportunities and the few climbs we attempted failed because of the weather. I was looking forward to a hot climbing expedition and we ended up in continual survival mode.

We started by spending two days in a warehouse in Lander Wyo while rain poured down. Then we piled into the back of a cattle truck and headed up a dirt road. The normal 2-hour drive took all day and we had to get out and shovel dirt to repair the road several times- all in the rain. Snow started at the trailhead where we walked across a meadow and set up camp. Since this course was my "trial by fire" to see if they wanted me as an instructor, they assigned me the weakest student as tent partner (actaually tarps- no tent). She was "sick" every day so I had to do all the camp chores and carry half her load. Back in those days we did not have stoves. Here it was snowing every day, hardly getting above freezing, and we had to build a fire every day just to cook. I became an expert at starting a fire with wet wood. We slowly made our way farther into the moutains. Every morning we awoke to frozen boots, broke ice of the streams to get water, slogged and post-holed through snow, taking turns breaking trail. Back in those days, it was also legal to cache rations in the wilderness. Our first ration was 15 days worth at 2 pounds per day. In additon to our old style heavy gear, this made our packs weigh in at about 65-70 pounds. When we reached our ration, that had been stashed and burried in #10 tin cans the previous fall, we discovered that many of the cans had leaked and the food spoiled. We ran out of food, so for the last week before survival we basically ate only oatmeal mixed with Crisco. Finally on Day 28 the weather broke. We were amazingly happy. I recall we spent nearly a day just hanging out in the sunshine. The course ended deep in the wilderness on the North Fork of Bull Lake Creek. We were still required to do a 5-day "survival" after basically starving for the previous week. Back in those days, we were given NO emergency food - had to fish and forage and walk out about 40 miles, mostly off-trail. However, the 4-person group that was filmed were given an emergency pack of food and part of the "story line" was that one of the kids sneaked the food into his pack and the resulting group dynamics and temptations of that emergency food was a main feature. But, the rest of us did the normal survival technique of that time- only salt and spices were allowed - fish or forage if you wanted to eat. My group decided to do the "death march" method of survival- we walked all the way out in 2 days and then lazed in the bushes for three days until we were picked up.

Every trip I have done since then has seemed easier. No matter what I have encountered. Guess such an experience at least makes you tough. Cannot say I really enjoyed it much. Thankfully the next course was in good weather and I got to do lots of climbing.
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Re: Best "Death March" stories.

Postby Wandering Daisy » Thu Feb 02, 2012 11:40 am

Here is an old photo from my "death march"

Image
Day the weather broke- June 30.
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Wandering Daisy
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