The Out There Guy's Tried-And-True Desert Survival Tips.
By Kevin Franklin
YOU DON'T KNOW an environment until you've experienced
it during the climate that makes it different from everywhere
else. Given the option, most folks would go to cold places in
summer, or to wet places during the dry season. Few seek out the
desert in the summer.
This is all backwards. To really get a fix on a place and what
it's all about, you have to visit it during its defining climate:
to meet the land on its own terms and adapt to it. Hiking through
the desert among fields of poppies and wildflowers gives you only
one notion of what makes the desert look the way it does. When
you stand alongside a saguaro in the middle of summer, you gain
a new respect for a plant so large and bulky that manages to survive
in 110-degree, rainless weather.
All the organisms that live here have evolved to deal with the
heat and dryness--in fact, they depend on it. A cooler and wetter
desert may feel like a reprieve to us humans, but without the
conditions to which our indigenous creatures have adapted, they'd
cease to exist.
But taking on the elements doesn't have to be a miserable experience.
It isn't for the plants and animals that live in the desert, and
it doesn't have to be for you, either.
Timing: Planning your hours of activity is key.
Rarely if ever do you see large mammals--or much of anything,
for that matter--moving in the summer during the noon hours. The
old Indian expression holds true: "Only Englishmen and mad
dogs go out in mid-day." It's best to hike in the dawn and
twilight hours--just watch out for the other critters, like rattlesnakes,
also likely to make use of these windows of opportunity.
Shade: When it's hot, shade makes all the difference.
Some botanists believe the principal purpose of cactus spines
is not defense, but shade. If you can't go underground, shade
is the next best thing for cactus and man alike.
When setting up a summer base-camp, planning for shade is perhaps
the most important element. The big, blue tarps available at outdoor
stores can be useful, but they need modification for practical
use. The picture on the box always shows an idyllic, grassy setting
with no wind. As they're sold, these tarps will stand briefly
in a well-sheltered backyard. In the real world, they blow down
and away in nanoseconds.
First, get rid of the stakes they come with. These have zero
chance of holding a big tarp in even a modest gust of wind. The
best alternative I've found are concrete spikes. Sold at lumber
yards and Home Depot, they can be hammered and will hold in virtually
any soil type--from caliche to soft sand. The ideal, 18-inch type
weighs over a pound and has multiple holes useful for tying cord.
And they're cheap! Obviously, these are not for backpacking; but
they're the cat's meow for a base camp.
For backpacking, a small tarp tied into a tree can convert a
poor shade tree into a fine shelter. With any tarp, the cords
are critical. Again, forego the pre-packaged nylon string and
inadequate plastic clip. You're far better off investing in some
quality cord and learning a rolling knot (like a tarbuck knot,
found in any good knot book).
Clothing: Finally, adequate clothes make the
difference between comfort and heatstroke. While it may seem cooler
to wear a tank-top and shorts, a light, long-sleeved shirt and
loose-fitting cotton pants will protect you from sunburn and create
a less-dry micro-climate between your clothing and skin. This
cuts down on excessive water loss.
Same with hats: Baseball caps can't hold a candle to a wide-brimmed
hat in protecting your head and a good part of your body. The
open space in the top of a cowboy hat has a purpose--it insulates
your head from the surface of the hat. The wider the brim, the
better the shade. Of course, some compromise must be made between
utility and protection: You want to move easily through brush
and in crowds.
Water: Kangaroo rats never have to drink a drop
of water. By processing the hydrogen in the seeds they eat and
the oxygen in the air, they produce their own metabolic water.
Unfortunately, humans can't follow suit, so we must pack our own.
Water is the clear line between life and death in the desert.
Hiking in the summer requires at least two gallons a day. When
backpacking overnight and making meals, three gallons will keep
you comfortable. At seven pounds a gallon, that's a lot of weight.
If you line all those water bottles on the floor, it looks like
a preposterous amount. It isn't. Even if you're acclimated to
desert heat, military research has shown you cannot acclimate
your body to using less water. Carry the water at the expense
of all other gear. Do yourself a favor and freeze water in your
bottles. It doesn't last more than two days, but for that time
it can't be beat.
But water alone isn't enough for strenuous hiking: You need to
replenish your body's electrolytes (in human terms, that means
the simple sugars that fuel the brain). One simple solution is
to freeze iced tea or any non-carbonated sports drink.
Summer desert hiking requires some preparation and thought--and
maybe even a bit of madness. But for the true desert rat, it's
worth the effort. You come to a deeper understanding about the
place we live in. You might even come away with a better comprehension
of what's really important in life: a little shade and a cold
drink.
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