This past week I spent 7 days on the trail with a group of 12 women backpacking with Call of the Wild. Now, 12 women anywhere can draw attention. 12 women on the trail carrying 40 lb. backpacks crossing 11,000+ ft. mountain passes can really draw attention. You see, in the wilderness, more often than not, women are the exception rather than the rule. Men make up the majority of hikers, trekkers, backpackers, boaters, etc. When I travel solo in the wilderness, I am acutely aware of just how few women are out the trail with me, and that my likely life support in case of emergency will be named Bob, Bill, Steve, or Brad. This past week however was a delightful exception.

As our group of 12 moved down the trail, we passed other women – lots of other women. Solo hikers, groups of 2 or 3, mothers and daughters, you name it. We saw women from every race, size, shape, and background. We were hiking on the legendary John Muir Trail, a 220 mile long distance route that travels through the California Sierra Mountains, starting in Yosemite National Park and ending further south on the top of Mt Whitney. Named after early wilderness conservationist and Sierra Club founder John Muir, this trail draws hikers from all over the globe. Thanks in part to its popularity and abundance of trail information, this trail is a safe way for women to pursue long distance hiking.

We did see the men of course, and for the first time in my professional career, I was the safety line to a Bob, Bill, Steve, Brad or in this case, a man who shall remain nameless but we will call “John”. I had walked by a group of men in their 60’s and 70’s and after passing them, I heard a loud thud and a slur of curse words. John had just tripped with his external frame pack on his back and hit his head on a big boulder before trying to brace his fall with his hands. Blood poured from his forehead and his hands looked like they had been torn up with a can opener. I immediately turned around and asked if he needed help. He insistently declined, leaving his friends to wonder what he was going to do for treatment. I silently began to unpack my first aid kit as he continued to say he was OK. His friend Joe opened a tube of Neosporin and with John’s head still bleeding, started to coat his head with the cream, forming a big pink mess. I was mortified.

Another friend of John’s suggested that maybe I should take a look. John declined the help again. I shared with him if nothing else I’d like to at least clean up his face as I had a group of 12 clients approaching shortly and they would be frightened to see such a sight. As he began to let me wipe his face and hands, he continued to curse at himself for tripping over the rock. He shared with me he had hiked 2000+ miles on the Pacific Crest Trail and this accident was his most serious to date. I told him he was pretty lucky as I slowly started unfolding the gauze and medical tape. By the time he noticed I was bandaging him up, his cursing had turned to thanks and his friends insisted we take a picture together to document the event. Moments later, he and his friends were heading south on the trail as I again started my trek north. I thought to myself, “Yes, this trail is better off with a few more women hiking on it.” I look forward to returning to the John Muir Trail in 2011. Who knows just how many women I’ll see next year? I hope more!