Tragedy at Red River Gorge

From this morning’s Columbus Dispatch comes the report of Ronald Trick of Powell, who was hiking alone in Kentucky’s Red River Gorge Sunday morning when he fell to his death.

I didn’t know Trick, but I know people like him. I’m one of them.

Red River Gorge is a favored destination in the eastern U.S. for backpacking and hiking. One of my sons took a trip there with his scout troop years ago, and I’ve had it on my radar ever since. Full of rocky trails, steep cliffs and spectacular views, it’s close enough to Columbus that I’m not sure why I haven’t yet made it there on one of my backpacking trips.

Cranberry Wilderness, October 2008

Instead, I’ve chosen places like Isle Royale National Park in the middle of Lake Superior, the Porcupine Mountains in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Zaleski State Forest just down the road, and the Cranberry Wilderness in West Virginia.

Except for the trip to Isle Royale, which I took with my daughter when she was 16 — and a week-long wilderness canoe trip in Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park with my wife in 2006 — all of my trips, like Trick’s on Sunday, have been solo affairs.

There are three reasons for this. First, I don’t have a consistent hiking partner. Second, those who might like to go wouldn’t always appreciate the demanding trails that I’m drawn to. Third, and most important, I like to go alone.

Backpacking for me is a cleansing ritual, a physical and mental purging that is best done solo. The silent conversations I have with myself are private things facilitated by the isolation that comes only by walking deep into the forest with just my pack, my food and my wits, such as they are.

Of course, there have been times a partner would have been a good thing to have around.

The night I spent on Government Peak in the Porkies, when a storm rolled in and battered my tent all night with roaring winds and torrential rains — I could have used some company then.

The time I missed a trail and walked two miles before realizing my mistake and backtracking — it would have been nice to have had someone there to say “hey, dummy, you’re going the wrong way.”

But all in all, I treasure the solitude that only is possible without companions.

From the newspaper report, it seems that Trick was an experienced hiker. Authorities believe he was resting at the top of a cliff when he fell, since he left a hiking stick and a fanny pack behind. Did he slip on some loose gravel, or a patch of ice? Or did he just stand up and lose his balance?

What actually happened will probably remain a mystery, one that will surely bolster arguments by some folks that no one should venture out alone. To me, it’s simply a tragic reminder that extraordinary care must always be exercised in the backcountry, whether in a group or by yourself.

I hope to backpack solo for as long as I can be sure of my physical capabilities, though an occasional partner is welcome.  In every instance, I will try to remember Ronald Trick — and how we can go so suddenly from quiet amazement at earth’s unlimited richness to staring directly into the eyes of God.

See also: Heading to Red River Gorge and Back from Red River Gorge.