I heard the helicopter, but I busied my focus on the green on top of the light grey bark of a desert peach bush—a sign of spring. The trail was filled with hikers, mountain bikers and trail runners enjoying the sunshine and warm weather. Soon, I thought, the hillside here along the Evans Canyon Loop trail would be pink with flowers.
I craved silence to enjoy this subtle beauty, which is normally granted in this spot, just under the landmark “N” on the hillside at Rancho San Rafael Regional Park. However, the pap-pap-pap-pap of the mechanized beast grew louder, and I could ignore its presence no longer.
I turned to watch the helicopter circle a few times, then land along the double-track trail—wide enough for an ATV or two bikes riding abreast, but narrow for an aircraft. A team of first responders jumped from the helicopter and met with a group of EMTs already at the scene, and they disappeared down a trail that meets with Evans Creek. Soon, they carried a person out from the trail on a stretcher and loaded them into the helicopter.
I was shocked. I’d never before witnessed a helicopter rescue, or, frankly, any accident requiring emergency rescue while hiking. This is not, however, what you’d assume if you listen to the myriad people (my mother at the forefront) who chirp about the dangers of the very outdoors into which they don’t venture. They tell me to worry about bears, snakes, coyotes and, sometimes, other people. More than a few times, I’ve been called crazy.
I usually laugh. I’m not afraid of bears; coyotes don’t spook me; and I’ve never seen a mountain lion or rattlesnake on a trail. In fact, I’m more terrified of driving on the highway than spending a night alone 20-plus miles from civilization. However, I understand their concern. Wilderness feels beyond our control. There are no doors we can lock, no barricades, no police down the street. There aren’t fridges stocked with food or faucets to let out a never-ending stream of drinking water. The wilderness shows us our fragility.
It isn’t inherently dangerous, though. The real danger? Ourselves. When we don’t come to the trail prepared, we risk injuring ourselves or making dangerous situations worse.
I once got caught in a lightning storm at the peak of Mount Lola (about 12 miles north of Interstate 80 off the Pacific Crest Trail) because I didn’t check weather reports before leaving. Bolts struck so close that the light and thunder were simultaneous. I’m still surprised I wasn’t electrocuted.
When I started my through-hike of the Tahoe Rim Trail, I became dehydrated on an exposed section of trail during one afternoon in the midst of a week-long heatwave, because I only carried only two liters of water for a 13-mile section. Another time, I suffered acute hypothermia, because I had to hike seven miles through a snowstorm in shorts. I’ve come very close to serious falls in places with no cell service on days where no one knew where I was going or what I was doing.
All of these instances were preventable. You can’t stop snow from falling or create a spring of water, but you can evaluate the weather reports and analyze the area before you start exploring. You can—and should—pack a bag with extra layers, water, food and first aid. You should always listen to the needs of your body instead of trying to push past them. That peak will still be there tomorrow. The likelihood that you’ll make a bad decision that leads to injury is higher when your body is tired, hungry, dehydrated, cold or depleted of salt or sugar.
A basic rule to follow when going into the backcountry is to carry the 10 essentials. This list—which you can find on many sites, including the National Park Service and the American Hiking Society—includes navigation, sun protection, insulation (layers), illumination, first-aid supplies, fire (or a way to stay warm), a repair kit and tools, food, water and emergency shelter. I’d also add a power bank to charge devices and a satellite communication device (like the Garmin inReach).
Before you leave for a trip, study a map of the area, and download one to your phone through an app like AllTrails. Check the weather before you go, but be prepared for changes, too. Neighboring canyons might pull in different weather or temperatures, as will the peak compared to the base. Go through your equipment and first-aid supplies to familiarize yourself on how to use them. While animal encounters are seldom, make sure you understand what to do. The Nevada Department of Wildlife is a great resource for those looking for advice specific to this area. Finally, always let someone know your plans, even if you’re going for a day hike close to home.
Last year, I got my wilderness first-aid certification and discovered that search and rescue teams might not always be able to help us get out of situations in the backcountry. Emergency rescues might not be possible depending on the weather, terrain or other safety concerns for the rescue team. If rescue is possible, it might be hours and hours before help gets to you. It is your responsibility to ensure your safety.
As springtime beckons us to the trails and backcountry, come prepared for—and humbled by—the wilderness around us. Whether you hike a route that starts in town or spend a few days in the wilderness, a little forethought goes a long way toward keeping you safe.