Polar opposites

Pro

By Annette McGivney

I used to think trekking poles were geeky -- the backpacker’s equivalent of a pocket protector -- and even a cheat. I didn’t need no stinkin’ crutch; I could traverse any terrain by myself. Upright. On two strong hominid legs, like nature intended.

Then I met the Grand Canyon.

Overloaded with too much gear, I bounded down steep gravel stretches, over trail and rock ledges one after another. Boom on one knee. Boom on the other. Then came the pain, the knife-cut under the kneecaps.

Four miles in, I tucked my tail firmly between my legs and headed back to the top. Ants were lapping me as I hauled myself out.

Knee problems plagued me for several years, and finally the threat of surgery pushed me into the trekking pole camp. “Why don’t you try these?” a friend innocently suggested, handing me her techno-geeky Leki Makalu anti-shock aluminum sticks.

I was mortified, but I was also heading out for another backpacking trip with my usual knee brace and a big ol’ bottle of Advil. But something happened. I used neither. And I’ve never been backpacking without poles since.

The poles absorb the pounding my knees once took. When I lower myself down ledges with a heavy pack, I’m as sure-footed as a mountain goat.

And the poles come in handy when I reach camp -- holding up a tarp, hanging a food bag or warding off rabid porcupines.

So I’m backing off the notion that two-legged is better. Monkeys and chimps are two-legged creatures, and you don’t see them winning any hiking competitions.

So all hail these aluminum shafts of salvation. I’ve hiked every single trail in the Grand Canyon since that first fateful trip and have experienced zero knee problems. Zip. Nada. Zilch.

Still not convinced? That’s OK. Just be sure to give my regards to your orthopedic surgeon.

Annette McGivney is Southwest Editor for Backpacker magazine.

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Con

By Rick Bolger

Don’t get me started on WMDs (Weapons of Mountain Destruction). Trekking poles are absurd. Correction. They’re a miserable excuse for gear. Sticks for mountain weenies.

Besides, most people who use them aren’t trekking, they’re strolling. La-di-da. It’s like fishing with a bazooka.

These WMDs are the monster trucks of the trail. They do untold damage to the terrain. That scratching or “cramponing” they leave behind is a disgrace. Nature has taken millenniums to shape mountains. Trekking poles have carved them up in less than a decade. Might as well carry a jackhammer.

Here’s my one disclaimer: Some people do need assistance, in which case I encourage the courteous use of poles with rubber tips. I also don’t mind people using them on ice. But as for the majority of those trekkers with poles, well, let’s just consider them for a moment.

I don’t like to get personal, but I feel I must, strictly for illustrative purposes. Just look at the people who use trekking poles. They think they own the place. Elbows out, arms flapping like storks doing the robot, taking up twice the room on the trail that they need. They’re road hogs pure and simple. Put the Indiana Pacers out there and they’d do less damage.

Etiquette says that uphill hikers have the right of way. But try telling that to a downhill hiker wielding poles like kendo sticks, rushing to get to his SUV. I’m surprised nobody offers trekking poles with flamethrowers. Some of the classic routes in our mountains were on pristine rock for 150 years. Now they’re scoured and scratched from top to bottom, and no one is held accountable. We certainly don’t want to upset the nice stick people. Nope, nope, nope.

If we could take all those unnecessary trekking poles and melt them down into something halfway useful, like aluminum siding, the world would be a better place.

Rick Bolger is the creator of the hiking website Slackpacker.com.