Staying Warm on the Wilderness Trail

by Tom Rose

October is slipping past again in my Pennsylvania hometown, nestled in the smoky hills around the Delaware River. That means the leaves are turning and, occasionally, a hint of snow is in the morning air. Sometimes, when I'm walking the many trails that surround my little patch of heaven, I look up in surprise to see a plane zoom past. Whenever I'm deep in the woods I always get the feeling I've traveled back through time to a day when flying was merely a dream of the future.

It's easy to pretend, because, despite being surrounded by all the conveniences of our modern world, Pennsylvanians cling to the rural past as much as possible in the woods and trails set aside by the farsighted protectors who share the sentiment. And my favorite place is the Wilderness Trail in the Delaware State Forest known as Dingman's Ferry.

The trail is well maintained year-round by unseen hands, thanks to the faithfully dedicated Ridge Runners. And it’s a delight to linger under the magnificent boughs of Slippery Elm and Eastern White Pine year-round. Especially in summer, when I am given to long days of hiking as I pick my way carefully past brand new blow-downs and keep an eye out for carelessly strung, too low-hanging bear bags. It’s all right though. In summer it’s easy to forgive the newbies.

But as fall approaches, there are less and less companions along the trail. Unlike me, they probably prefer the comfort of the fire at the AYCEs that dot the landscape between blazes and leave the rugged part to the die-hards. But I love to experience the growing isolation the colder weather brings until the trails are all but closed off by white drifts piling skyward in winter.

In my younger days I seemed impervious to the nip and bite of the North wind as it came back with autumnal gusto to reclaim the fall lines pointing the way home. But lately I find my endurance has slipped a bit by late afternoon, when the chill sets in more noticeably, while the friendly sun dips toward the ridgeline. And I find it has been seriously cutting in to my hiking time.

Before I had real experience navigating my way through the dead falls and balds that make up my familiar landmarks (I have come to see Dingman’s as my home away from home) I took little notice of protection from the elements. A bivy, a small pack, rugged boots and a warm jacket (just in case) seemed all I needed. But now I see that I should be more concerned about my personal safety as I wander further and further afield. And staying warm is near the top of the list.

I even used to disdain the gear-heads who seemed to carry everything they MIGHT need for a simple walk through a friendly wood. A proud Hicker in those days, I was resolved that a water bottle and some jerky was all I really needed. But if I reflect upon my earlier foolishness, I am reminded that many a hike was cut short because my feet started to get too cold.

A good warm pair of socks, of course, goes a long way to ensure staying toasty. Even an extra pair seems like a good idea these days. And the more active you are the better. But sweating inside the boot and the inevitable trod through springs, streams, rivers and lake shore can get your feet wet, despite the layers. On longer hikes, or colder days, this leads to discomfort that can prematurely end a spectacular trek.

So I’ve gone in for a technology that our hiking ancestors had not even the slightest inkling of: foot warmers.

Those of us who suffer from the occasional backache are by now aware of disposable heating pads that can be applied to the lower back like a bandage. When they’re activated they provide several hours of heat that helps to soothe and relax sore muscles. Now that idea has been adapted to socks.

A nifty product I’ve discovered is called Toasti Toes. And, since using them, my hiking experiences are much more enjoyable – and longer – now that I’ve decided a little new technology can help an old hobby.

They’re actually quite ingenious. By activating a thin charcoal insert enclosed within the pad, a constant temperature of about 96 degrees is maintained for about 5 hours or so. An adhesive strip holds them closely to the sock inside my boot and I barely notice the difference in layering. But what a difference there is in comfort – and safety.

It’s a well known truism that keeping the extremities warm is crucial to staving off hypothermia. Mostly, the old adages instruct us to keep our heads covered. But having "Toasti Toes" can be just as comfortable – and prudent. It’s surprising how turning the old story on its head, as it were, produces the same result. Of course, I’m not usually in that much danger. It’s never more than a few miles, or a couple of hours, to the nearest trail head. But it’s nice to know I have an edge, just in case I lose my way.

So, now that I’ve solved my keeping warm problem, I can hike a little further and stay on the trail a little longer. Thanks to my "Toasti Toes."

Now that’s what I call progress.