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"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike." -- John Muir
Art Gazdik awoke at 6:30 a.m. alone in the thin air of the high Sierras. He quietly ate a meager breakfast and packed quickly, hoping to make it to the high pass at the edge of Yosemite National Park before the scenic vista attracted a crowd of hikers on the John Muir Trail.
"I figured there'd be no one else up there," he said.
When Gazdik arrived at the desolate spot -- a good 15-20 miles from anything in either direction -- he found something he hadn't expected.
"There's a woman -- I'd say she's in her mid- to late 70s -- dressed in long johns, a dress and a down parka with a big black dog and pack llamas," he said. "She hikes through the high Sierras all summer long, she's called The Llama Lady. She camps out and enjoys it, and she can really move, man, like a motor."
Confronting the unexpected, adapting to a foreign environment and embracing a surprisingly robust social life draw Gazdik back to the John Muir Trail for what has become an annual pilgrimage.
Now 51, the civil engineer for Ross Township and member of The NewLanders folk-rock group returned to his boyhood love of hiking several years ago. Since 2008, he's focused on a series of yearly solo visits to a trail considered one of the most spectacular in the United States.
PG mapGazdik hiked northern sections of the John Muir Trail in 2008 and 2009. Next week, he'll be in California tackling the daunting southern tract.
The 211-mile trail was named for the influential environmentalist and writer John Muir, a founding member and first president of the Sierra Club. It starts in Yosemite National Park and winds through the Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sequoia National Park and King's Canyon National Park, grinding up 5,000 feet to the highest peak in continental United States, the 14,496-foot Mount Whitney.
The trail and adjoining portal and service paths twist through streams and narrow mountain passes, roll over desert terrain and wavy grasslands and pass some of America's most picturesque scenery. Parts of the trail are heavily trafficked by tourists, while other trail sections and service paths are frequently devoid of people.
Construction of the John Muir Trail was started a year after Muir's death in 1915. It was completed in 1938.
Gazdik's connection to the trail began with a curiosity about new lightweight hiking gear.
"Used to be we'd have these big packs -- even the pack would weight 5-6 pounds," said Gazdik. "Then you load it up and you have 35 or 40 pounds on your back. But there's this new movement in ultralight backpacking and it really intrigued me. Now, you can have your base weight -- which is your pack and your tent and your sleeping bag, plus your stove and first-aid kit and a little bit of clothing, food and water -- at 10 pounds or less. That's pretty incredible. I got interested by that and purchased some of the gear and did some backpacking around [Pennsylvania]."
Gazdik's search for a place to make the best use of his new gear led him to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. His search for serenity inspired him to hike alone.
"There are a couple of reasons to go solo," he said. "One, it's a vacation trip that not a lot of people want to do. You're carrying all the stuff you have on your back, and you're sleeping on the ground, there are no restrooms, no showers. It's not everybody's cup of tea.
"Secondly, it's great to be out there by yourself. It's a nice feeling to be out where there is just no one around. You can't see anyone. You're on the top of a ridge or a mountain pass and you don't see anybody. It's a really great feeling to be alone in the wilderness for a week or so."
On his first trip, Gazdik's intermittent contact with other thru-hikers became an unexpected pleasure. Now it's part of the appeal.
"It's remote, but it's also fairly well traveled," he said. "There's a little bit of a social nature to it. You tend to hopscotch people and you get to know them. Folks who go at about the same pace as you, you may see them along way and pass each other. You compare notes, help each other out. You're enjoying being alone, but you look forward to meeting up with people you've come to know."
This year, Gazdik is hiking the southern end the trail, notorious for having fewer resupply points and fewer people, and will begin the journey with a climb over a boulder-strewn off-trail pass.
For the first time, he's taking a partner.
"Last year on the trail, I met a guy, Steve Thompson, from around Phoenix," he said. "We kept passing each other and had about the same pace. In order to sort of reduce car spotting problems and everything, and because of the risks of the off-trail part, we're hiking together this year. We'll probably hike at our own paces and meet up for lunch and camping."
Now a veteran, Gazdik chuckles as he remembers his first night on the trail in 2008.
"It was late evening, I'd found a beautiful spot and I laid down," he said. "Every time I'd roll over, I'd make a little swishing sound with my sleeping bag, and it would wake me up. My mind was mind's just ... is it a bear's creeping up on me? What is that? I laid there worrying. The second night, I was so tired I really didn't care. I was thinking, 'I need the rest. I can't lay awake at night with my eyes pinned open thinking about critters.' "
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