Trail making is by no means a simple matter. The successful trail-maker (and trails should be successfully made) must be expert in woodcraft; he must understand topography—the “lay of the land”; he must know from what side to approach a summit, how best to pass a valley—whether to go around or through it. With knowledge of these matters, his occupation is a most interesting one. Irresponsible and unauthorized trail making should be discouraged.
A word of caution is, “Do, but don’t overdo.” Particularly is this word of caution to be carried in mind in the matter of blazing trails. Let the marks be sufficient, and no more; let them be as inconspicuous as is consistent with their purpose. In marking trails, don’t blaze trees, nor deface objects of interest and beauty. The best trail mark is a colored arrow, affixed to tree trunk or fence post, or painted on a rock face. Such an arrow may, by color, position, and legends displayed upon it, afford as much information as may be desired, about route, distance, elevation, detours, springs, and other matters.
Resting places may be built; pavilions, perhaps, in the woods, where walkers may have lunch under protection from rain. Or, when conditions justify, houses may be built and equipped, to afford food and lodging. In this connection, the alpenhütten elsewhere mentioned ([page 106]) will come to mind. In other places, tents may be erected for the summer, and caretakers employed.
In case a club has under its care a wide extent of wilderness—as has the New York Section of the Green Mountain Club, for example—a ranger will be employed, and his duties will include the care of trails, prevention of fires, and protection of property. He may, if expedient, be constituted game warden also.
“Some of us have been blessed of the Gods, permitted to make trail in the timberline country of the Mt. Washington range. Everyone who has tried it is unhappy till he is doing it again. That is why there are so many trails there. I came rather late; my experience in that fascinating country has been little more than that of the common or idiotic tramper, scuttling from hut to hut on schedule. Always, summer or winter, I am glad to be starting for timberline, and content when there. When, after the long climb, I suddenly realize that the trees are lowering fast, that underbrush has vanished, that a sensation of altitude and space is pressing for conscious recognition, I feel a lift and urge—timberline again!
“And what is timberline? It is the level at which the mean annual temperature—yes, but it is the sweep of vast spaces, the drift of cloud-shadows, the infinite gradations of distant color. It is the hiss of wind in the firs, the strain against bitter gusts, the keen concentration to hold the trail through dense and drifting fog. It is the plod and lift under the pack, the crunch of creepers, the slow struggle through tangled scrubs.”[5]
Map Making
Maps of unmapped regions should be prepared.
Study a good map—a quadrangle of the U. S. Geological Survey, for instance. Note what things are represented, and how representation is made: study the map, until it is thoroughly understood.
There are three factors with which the map-maker deals: direction, distance, and elevation. With the first, he must always reckon, and usually with the second and the third as well.