OVERFLOW

V
ORGANIZATION AND CONDUCT OF WALKING CLUBS

Those who live reasonably near the home or field of existing clubs are urged to relate themselves to them. Don’t organize hastily. Be sure, first, of two things: that a fair-sized continuing membership is to be expected, to be advantaged by a club; and, second, that, in the multiplicity of already existing societies, there is place for another. Remember that the persons who will be interested and whose interest and support are desired, will in large part be persons already giving much time to altruistic activity. Think this matter through, taking advice of persons of experience and judgment. It may be better, in a given case, to widen the activities of some existing organization—canoe club, perhaps, or Audubon Society—than to form a new one. Pedestrianism may well have place in the program of school, Y. M. C. A., or Boy Scout Troop. But of this something will be said in the sequel. In a city, however, a walking club may well stand on its own feet; and, in such a favored region as the Green Mountains, for example, to organize a walking club comes near to being a public duty.

The Activities of a Walking Club

Before opening a discussion of the formalities of organization, it will be well to consider what the normal activities of a walking club are; for to the end in view the machinery of organization, simple or complex, should be adapted. The activities of a club may be regarded as of two sorts, and, in lieu of better terms, may be designated as primary and secondary. Primary activities concern the actual business of walking: development of the pedestrian resources of some particular region, trail making, map making, publishing of data, maintaining a bureau, conducting hikes, affording instruction, and contributing seriously to the growing literature of pedestrianism. Secondary activities consist in conducting dinners and other social entertainment, in providing illustrated lectures on travel, popular science, and kindred subjects. There is need of care, to keep such activities in their proper secondary place. The primary activities require further consideration.

Development of the Pedestrian Resources of Some Particular Region

This should be an aim of every walking club. The region to be developed will in many—in most cases, indeed—be the region about home. Clubs in large cities, however, and clubs situated in regions not suitable for walking, may well turn attention, wholly or in part, to regions far from home. The mountainous parts of a continent are the natural recreation grounds for the whole people, and those who live far away may still have their proper share in making these parts more readily available. In the Alps, the pedestrian is pleased to find the lodges where he stops at night called by the names of distant cities, whose citizens maintain them—BreslauerhÜtte, for example, or DusseldorferhÜtte. In this country, too, the Green Mountain Club (see page 84) has its New York Section; and to the New York Section it has allotted a certain portion of the Long Trail (a length of fifty miles). The New York club, accordingly, while not neglectful of pedestrianism at home, opens, develops, and maintains its part of the route in Vermont, and conducts annually a hike in that region.

The development of a region involves observation and putting into communicable form the results of observation, and it may and ordinarily does involve further a greater or less amount of physical preparation. First of all, the region must be traversed, and that again and again, under varying conditions of season and climate, and thus thoroughly known. Maps, if available, must be carefully studied, and particular attention must be given to distances, steepness of roads, and to the nature of the footing—whether the way be rough or smooth, hard or soft, wet or dry. Note should be made of obstructions, such as briars, fallen trees, and unbridged streams. The possibility of using railways and trolley lines to widen the available area should not be forgotten. Hotels should be noted, and restaurants, and farmhouses, where rest and refreshment may be had; and, in the wilderness, camp sites should be selected.

Observation should next be directed to such natural resources as may engage the attention and interest of the pedestrian: scenery, of course, hilltops, waterfalls, and such matters; then to plant and animal life, and that with the interests of sportsmen and lovers of natural science particularly in mind. Attention should be given to geology and to mineral deposits. Then the history of the region should be studied, its traditions learned, and its monuments considered—distinctive and characteristic matters touching the life of the people, industries, factories, public works, and buildings.

All of these matters should be taken into account, with a view to making the results of observation and study generally available.

Trail Making

“Of trail making there are three stages. There is dreaming the trail, there is prospecting the trail, there is making the trail. Of the first one can say nothing—dreams are fragile, intangible. Prospecting the trail—there lies perhaps the greatest of the joys of trail work. It has a suggestion of the thrill of exploration. No one of us but loves still to play explorer. And here there is just a bit of the real thing to keep the play going. Picking the trail route over forested ridges calls for every bit of the skill gained in our years of tramping. There is never time to go it slow, to explore every possibility. Usually there is one hasty day to lay out the line for a week’s work. For a basis there is the look of the region, from some distant point, from a summit climbed last year, perhaps. For a help, there is the compass, but in our hill country we use it little. Partly we go by imperfect glimpses from trees climbed, from blow-down edges, from small cliffs—but chiefly we feel the run of the land, its lift and slope and direction. The string from the grocer’s cone unwinds behind—an easy way of marking and readily obliterated when we go wrong. We pay little heed to small difficulties, those are for the trail makers to solve. Only a wide blow-down, a bad ledge, a mistake in general direction, cause us to double back a bit and start afresh.…

“Making trail is the more plodding work; yet has reliefs and pleasures of its own. Each day, as the gang works along the string line, problems of detail arise. Ours is no gang of uninterested hirelings. If the line makes a suspicious bend, the prospectors have to explain or correct.… Decision made, the gang scatters along the line, each to a rod or two, for we find working together is not efficient.[4]”

As has already been said, a club ordinarily will find occasion to do some work of physical preparation of its pedestrian routes. Highways are ordinarily beyond control, but byways are not. The opening of trails, cutting away of briars and windfalls, making the footing sure for a man under a pack, the building of footways and handrails in dangerous places, the cleaning of springs and providing water basins and troughs, the marking of trails—all these matters are such as manifestly should engage a club’s energies.

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.

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.

Direction is fundamental. Suppose there are three dominant points in the area to be mapped, relatively situated as here indicated.

The first problem is, to get those points set down on paper accurately, in proper relative positions.

The map-maker begins, say, at B. He has provided himself with a sketching board, having a sheet of paper tacked upon it, and with a ruler and a pencil. He sets his board up and carefully levels it. He then marks upon the paper a point b which in the completed map is to indicate this station B of first observation—the point where he now stands. Knowing in a general way the area which he wishes to map, and observing from his station the directions in which the distant objects A and C lie, he so places point b that his paper will afford space for the intended map.

The map-maker then lays his ruler upon the paper, brings its edge close to point b, and sighting from point b on the paper to the distant object A, turns the ruler until its edge coincides with the line of sight. Then he draws upon the paper a line or “ray” from point b toward object A. In like manner he sets his ruler again and draws a second ray, from b toward the distant object C, thus:

Having fixed point b and drawn the two rays b-A and b-C, the map-maker leaves station B and goes to either of the other points: to point C, say. He there sets his board up again, and levels it carefully as before. He turns the board until, sighting along the previously drawn ray C-b, the now distant station B is exactly covered. Then he lays the ruler again upon the paper, and turns it until, sighting along its edge, distant object A is exactly covered. He then draws a ray along the edge of the ruler thus:

The points a and c, where this ray intersects the two previously drawn rays, are the presentment of the points A and C in the area under observation, and a map of the area is begun.

These three points may be mountain summits, trees, telegraph poles, chimneys, or any other conspicuous features of the landscape, and they may be distant one from another 50 miles or 500 yards; they are set down on paper in their true relative positions; they are mapped.

In the making of the map thus far, one and only one of the three factors mentioned above has been taken into the reckoning: the factor of direction, namely; and the resulting map is drawn to an unknown scale. It is drawn to some scale, of course; there is some ratio between its distances and the distances at which the objects stand apart, but the ratio is unknown. It may be determined: the distance from B to C may be measured, and the distance b-c on the map may be measured, and the ratio of the two distances ascertained. That ratio is the scale to which the map is drawn. Thus the second factor, that of distance, enters in. It may be reckoned with from the beginning.

Suppose the two points B and C, above mentioned, to be signal towers on a straight stretch of railway, and the point A to be the chimney of a house standing by the side of a wagon road which crosses the railroad at C. The map-maker, having at B set down the data described above, in proceeding to C, paces the distance from B to C, and finds it to be, e.g., 3,500 feet. He has previously determined what the scale of his map is to be: say, 1 inch to 1000 feet. He then carefully lays off on ray b-C 3½ inches from the point b, and thus he fixes point c. He then sets up his drawing-board at C; but, instead of shifting the ruler freely upon the paper, he sights from point c to distant object A and brings the edge of the ruler into coincidence with the line of sight. He draws along the edge of the ruler the ray c-A, which, intersecting the previously drawn ray b-A, gives him the point a.

The railroad from b to c may be indicated thus,

and the highroad from c to a represented by two closely spaced parallel lines. (The conventional signs for various features of topography may be found on the back of a U. S. Geological Survey quadrangle.) On the way from B to C there may be a bridge, crossing a stream. The map-maker, pacing the distance, will, without stopping or interrupting the swing of his stride, note the number of paces from B to the bridge, as well as from B to C. He will then have the figures, and can accurately place the bridge upon his map.

He now has a map of a length of railroad and of a length of intersecting highway, drawn to the known scale of 1 = 1000'.

And, be it noted, this has been accomplished without visiting the point A at all.

Suppose now there be a haystack D, and a tree on a hilltop E, situated with respect to the points already considered thus:

They may be mapped in like manner. The map-maker goes successively to any two of the three points A, B, and C from which the object to be plotted (D or E) is visible; he sets his board at each place, levels it, and turns it until the ray on the map from the point where he stands to another point lies directly in the line of sight to that other point in the landscape. Having so oriented his board, he draws at his successive stations rays in the direction of the object to be mapped (D or E.) The point d or e where those rays intersect will be the mapped location of the object.

Proceeding thus, the outstanding features of the area may be mapped, one after another. The intervening details may be filled in, freehand.

It will have been remarked that only very simple apparatus is required for map making: the sketching board may conveniently be mounted on a tripod, with provision for turning it evenly and surely. Boards so mounted and intended for the very purpose may be had of dealers in draftsmen’s and surveyors’ supplies. A level should be provided, for use in setting the board up. The ruler will be graduated to inches and fractions of inches, if the map is to be drawn to predetermined scale. In pacing, one must carefully count his strides. A pedometer may be used, but a pedometer is a sort of toy; it requires to be carefully adjusted to the stride of the user, and is hardly worth while for any purpose. It may be convenient in pacing to use a tally register, and so relieve one’s self of the necessity of keeping count.

The value of a map is vitally dependent on the accuracy with which it is made. Measurement and observation should be repeated, and errors eliminated by averaging variant readings.

Nothing has yet been said about a compass, and a compass, though not necessary, is so serviceable as to be almost indispensable. With a compass one can not only do, and do more expeditiously, what has thus far been described; he can do some things which could not otherwise be done.

A sketching board is ordinarily provided with a compass, set near its upper margin, and bears also an orientation line passing through the compass. The board is set up and leveled and then turned until the orientation line coincides with the line on which the needle points. At each station the board is oriented, not by sighting along penciled rays, but always in the manner described, by bringing it to a truly north and south position. In other respects, the plotting is performed in the manner already described.

Orientation by compass is advantageous in this respect: given two points, as a and b, on the map, the map-maker may plot a third point, as D for example, while standing at D, and without being obliged to go either to A or to B. He sets up his board at D, levels it, and orients it; he sights and draws rays through points a and b in line with the objects A and B as they appear from his point of observation, D. The point d of intersection of the rays will be the station D plotted.

A north and south line may be drawn upon the map, and then the user, wherever he may be in the area, if only he has in view two known points and can identify them on the map, can “find” himself. He orients the map by compass, fixes upon the map and in the manner indicated his point of observation, and may then observe the distance and direction of any other point in the area, whether visible or not.

The measurement of distance by pacing has been noted. Practice is requisite, before one can so measure distance accurately. When the greatest precision is desired, a bicycle wheel equipped with a cyclometer may be rolled over the course, or a surveyor’s chain may be used, or even a tape line.

The measured line B-C of the map begun as above described is the base line of the map. It should be carefully chosen, carefully measured, and carefully plotted; for all the rest of the map will, in accuracy, be conditioned on the accuracy with which this base line is drawn. In location it is preferably (though not necessarily) situated near the center of the area to be mapped; in length, it is best that it be about one third of the distance across the area. Its terminal points should be conspicuously marked, and widely visible throughout the area; and, for ease and accuracy of measurement, it should lie across level ground. A reach of railroad is an ideal base.

It will often be the case—generally in mountainous regions—that an adequate level base cannot be found; the terminals B and C may be eminences unequal in height, and between may lie mountain slope or valley. Now the third of the factors mentioned at the outset, elevation, has to be taken into account. It is not the surface distance between the two points B and C which is to be ascertained, nor even the distance from one point to the other on an air line, but the distance projected upon a horizontal plane—for that is what the map is intended to afford, the horizontal distance from point to point. In order to determine this distance, if the ground between be other than substantially level, the distance along the surface must be measured (keeping a straight course by compass if necessary) and the slope from point to point must be measured. To determine the angle of slope one may either use a slope board or a clinometer (an instrument built on the principle of the sextant). Having measured distance and angle of slope, one may betake himself to schoolboy trigonometry and a table of logarithms, to determine the corresponding distance in horizontal plane.

Contour lines (see page 119) pass through points of equal elevation, and are spaced apart according to a predetermined plan, to indicate intervals in elevation of five, ten, or twenty feet, as may be desired. This predetermined contour interval has no necessary relation to the scale to which the map is drawn. Two otherwise identical maps of the same area may be provided with contour lines, one at the interval of five feet, the other at the interval of twenty-five.

A skilled map-maker, observing a slope, is able to sketch contour lines, freehand, with an accuracy sufficient for most purposes. But such skill is the result of much careful measured work.

In plotting contour lines it is best to work, not from line to line—errors of observation then accumulate—but to measure the altitude and the mean inclination of the whole mountain side, and go from the over-all measurements to the minutiae.

In drawing the contour of a mountain, rays may be laid by compass from the summit along ridges and through valleys, and then minute observations may be made along those several lines. The sweep of the contour lines between the points plotted along the rays may be filled in freehand, with the mountain side spread in view.

The data necessary for contour lines may be got by the use of the slope board alone; for, manifestly, at any certain angle, a contour interval of ten feet means a certain distance between successive contour lines. But in plotting contour lines, an aneroid is invaluable; with it one measures directly differences in elevation, and measuring thus the altitude of a slope, from bottom to top, the number of contour lines requisite may immediately be known; it remains to determine their distribution. Here observation, calculation, and experience combine to afford the result.

An aneroid should be used only under settled conditions of weather; and, even so, correction should be made, when possible, by taking the average of many readings of the same range.

It is not necessary to go afield with sketching board and its accessories. A map-maker who has taught himself a well-regulated stride may, when equipped with compass and notebook (and, if conditions require it, with an aneroid), collect all the necessary data; and then, subsequently, at home he may draw his map. It should here be said that, if one is going to gather data for map making after the manner just suggested, his compass should be one having a delicately mounted needle. It may advantageously be equipped with sights, and the scale should be reasonably large and the graduation minute. It should, in short, be a surveyor’s compass.

For more explicit instruction, the reader is referred to the manuals on Military Map Making. One by Major C. O. Sherrill, published by George Banta Publishing Company of Menasha, Wisconsin, is excellent. It should, however, be remembered that the ideal military map is one for particular needs, of maximum accuracy, based on a minimum amount of observation; timesaving is an important factor. Making proper allowance, the military manual affords all needed instruction and advice.

Publishing of data

Descriptions of routes should be prepared, illustrated with maps, if necessary, and should be made available to those who wish to use them, whether members of the club, visitors from a distance, or the general public. For a club, rightly conceived, is, within its sphere, a public benefactor, and its policy should be always to enlarge its usefulness.

A proper description of a route should give, (1) distances from start to finish, as well as from point to point along the way; (2) approximate time requisite to walk each stage. (Here it may be noted that Baedeker’s famous guidebooks err on the safe side, and give very liberal time allowance in describing walking tours.) The description should further give (3) elevations, where range in elevation is appreciable, with note of steep ascents and descents; (4) the nature of the surface; (5) stopping places for rest and refreshment and springs; (6) such matters of caution as the particular route may require, in regard to dangerous places, heavy roads, obstructions, and the like; (7) objectives and points of particular interest. Recommendations should be made on such matters as preferred season, special equipment, need for guides, and incidental expenses. Descriptions should be concise, easily intelligible, and should be at once accurate and inviting.

A handbook of routes of the region may well be prepared, and in such a handbook descriptions of particular walks may be prefaced by such general statements regarding topography, science, history, and sport, as are applicable to the whole region. Such general matters may, however, be published in leaflet form, and separate leaflets be prepared and published for the several pedestrian routes in the region.

An excellent specimen handbook is “Excursions Around Aix-les-Bains,” mentioned in the Bibliography (page 148).

It has just been said that the descriptions of routes should be published and distributed. They may be printed under the imprint of the club, or, more economically, they may be published in the local newspaper, and extra copies, separately printed for distribution by the club, may be procured by arrangement with the printing office. If the club be a small one and young, and the cost of printing too great, at least typewritten copies of descriptive matter and blue prints of maps should be available.

In addition to such descriptions of its own region, a club should similarly prepare and make available other routes traversed by its members in other and undeveloped regions.

Maintaining a bureau

A club should have a place where its data are filed, available to those who wish to consult them. This place should be a distributing point for the club’s publications. If the region has already been mapped by the Geological Survey, the club should lay in a supply of the quadrangles covering the region, sufficient to meet the needs of applicants.

A library should be maintained, or a bibliography at least, to which the members of the club may have access, to acquaint themselves with all that concerns the art of walking, the choice of route, and the sources of enjoyment along the route chosen. Cooperation in this regard will readily be accorded by any local public library or museum of natural history.

In such manner a walking club becomes a source of information for visiting pedestrians. Out of the wider relationships so established will come increased membership and livelier interest. Incidentally, it will have become apparent to one who reads these pages that the organization—though, by recommendation, kept as simple as possible—will, in an early stage of development, include an office with a secretary in charge. The library may be conducted, perhaps in the secretary’s office, perhaps in the rooms of a general public library. Club rooms or a club house will be maintained only under exceptional circumstances.

Conducting hikes.

Hikes will be of two or three sorts: first, afternoon hikes, on Saturdays or Sundays, perhaps weekly throughout the greater part of the year, perhaps at less frequent intervals, or during spring and fall only—such matters depend on locality and circumstances. Second, there will be less frequent overnight hikes—perhaps two or three in the spring and as many more in the autumn. And, third, there will be the annual tour of two or three weeks’ duration, in a chosen region. Some observations applicable to all these are the following:

Rules for hiking

Hikes should be carefully prepared and adequately carried out.

Don’t walk in a herd; to do so is tiresome; and, when the novelty is gone, failure is sure to follow. Divide larger companies into groups, each group numbering preferably not more than six.

See that strong and feeble walkers are not grouped together.

Bring together, so far as may be, people of common interests—bird-lovers in one group, geologists in another, historians or antiquarians in another.

Let there be a leader for each group.

The general outline of the trip, in case the party numbers more than two, should be determined in advance and adhered to. Otherwise, contradictory suggestions regarding the route to be followed are likely to arise, and argument to follow. This is to be avoided.

The leader should have always in mind the physical endurance of the weakest member of his party and govern accordingly. One tired and querulous person may be a kill-joy for all. It is not necessary that every group traverse the same route, nor that all should walk at equal speed.

Don’t allow racing, nor loitering, nor too much picnicking.

In traversing highways pedestrians will walk two or three abreast; but when walking single file, as on woodland trails, companions will walk most comfortably at intervals of two paces.

Walkers should travel quietly, especially when passing through villages.

See that property rights are respected; there should be no trespassing on forbidden land.

Guard most carefully against fire. Mr. Enos A. Mills says:[6]

“Since the day of Tike’s Peak or bust,’ fires have swept over more than half of the primeval forest area of Colorado. Some years ago, while making special efforts to prevent forest fires from starting, I endeavored to find out the cause of these fires. I regretfully found that most of them were the result of carelessness, and I also made a note to the effect that there are few worse things to be guilty of than carelessly setting fire to a forest. Most of these forest fires had their origin from camp-fires which the departing campers had left unextinguished. There were sixteen fires in one summer, which I attributed to the following causes: campers, nine; cigar, one; lightning, one; locomotive, one; stockmen, two; sheep-herders, one; and sawmill, one.”

See to it that proper regard is had for public interest and welfare; lunch boxes, paper, and refuse should be collected and destroyed; springs should be kept scrupulously clean; the gathering of wild flowers should be indulged in sparingly; plants and trees should not be mutilated; nor monuments defaced. The trail should be left unmarred, for those who follow.

Do not permit irresponsible trail-blazing.

Discourage the carrying and use of firearms; they should under no circumstances be permitted on an organized hike.

Do not permit the rolling of stones down declivities.

On the conduct of mountaineering parties, Professor William Morris Davis writes, in “Excursions around Aix-les-Bains”:

“Do not make high mountain ascents alone.… Excursions are best made in small parties of three or five. If a large party sets out, it should be divided into squads of ten or fewer members. Those who wish to make the excursion without stopping should join a separate squad from those who wish to stop frequently for photographing or sketching.

“Each squad should, if possible, have an experienced leader; he should make a list of the members, head the line of march on narrow paths, and set the proper pace, slow for ascents, faster for descents; a shrill whistle will aid in summoning his party together. A marshal should follow in the rear to round up the stragglers. Before setting out on a long mountain walk, place the members of each squad in a circle land let each member take note of his two neighbors, one on his right, one on his left, for whose presence he is to be responsible whenever the march begins after a halt: each member will thus be looked for by two others. Once on the road, keep together; those who wander away from their squad cause vexatious delays. The marshal’s report, ‘All present and ready to start,’ is especially important when a descent begins. If a member wishes to leave his squad after low ground is reached, he should so report to his leader.”