This week, I want to step back from politics and such, and write about simpler things, namely hiking and tea. Most days, even as I work and write, I spend a considerable amount of time thinking (and yes, even daydreaming) about hiking. Time in quiet, green spaces, away from roads and buildings, is, for me, as essential to my well-being as bathing. And whenever I hike, whether for one day or several, I always take tea.
This past weekend as I hiked along one of my favorite trails, I was thinking about Wade Davis’ extraordinary book, Into The Silence: The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest, which chronicles how the British, barely standing as an empire after WWI, set out to summit Mount Everest. Most of the story focuses on George Mallory, who was a mountaineer at heart but a school teacher by necessity. As Davis tells it, in May 1922, George Mallory and a party of three others first attempted to summit Mount Everest, the world’s tallest (it stands over 29,000 feet above sea level) and most deadly mountain.
Battling blinding snow storms, altitude hypoxia, and an icy ridge that slowed their pace to just 400 feet an hour, Mallory and his party did not reach the summit but managed to climb to a height of 26,900 feet above sea level, a record for that time. Mallory would return to Everest in 1924 and, while attempting (again) to summit the mountain, disappear into the clouds. In 1999, the American Conrad Anker found Mallory’s mummified body where he fell on Everest.
Davis does an outstanding job explaining how the horrible slaughter of WW I drove the British up mountains like Everest, desperate to prove to themselves and the world that the war had not broken their spirits.
Davis also relates how important tea was to the British who came to climb Everest, as well as the Tibetians who worshiped the mountain. When Mallory and his companions failed to summit in 1922, they stagged down Everest, more dead than alive and rejoiced when they were handed thermoses of hot tea upon reaching their high camp.
From Gautama Buddha of the 6th century B.C. to modern, twenty-first climbers like Conrad Anker, those who love the wilderness have also loved tea.
I love tea on the trail. I always carry several packets with me, even when I go on a day hike. I have a quick and light setup for brewing it: A small 750 ml titanium pot, a 3.9 oz. can of MSR fuel and a mini-stove, both of which fit inside the titanium pot. Combine with my favorite blue-enamel mug, and it’s tea time. My general philosophy is that, short of a compound fracture, there is almost nothing that tea cannot fix on a hike. I am partial to black teas, like Early Grey.
More than just some personal obsession, tea has been proven to improve performance during physical exertion while, at the same time, despite being a caffeinated beverage, not contributing to dehydration. In a study published at the National Center for Biotechnology Information, groups of climbers stationed at the base camp of Mount Everest were given either tea or water to drink over a set period of time. Those who drank only tea did not show any signs of dehydration relative to those who drank only water. The tea drinkers, however, showed fewer signs of fatigue and reported an overall better mood and sense of motivation than the non-tea drinkers. Why? Well, the researchers aren’t quite sure. Whether it is the tannin or the anti-oxidants, there’s just something in tea that’s good for you both on and off the trail.
As I have hiked over the years, I have passed this knowledge about tea on to my children. When my youngest son (who is an excellent hiking companion) was required to write a poem for his high school English class, he chose a story about a near-fatal fall in the Rockies. We were up at about 13,000 feet, traversing from Pawnee Lake to Crater Lake in Colorado’s Indian Peaks Wilderness when, as he crossed a log bridge over a swollen mountain stream, things started to go terribly wrong. The centerpiece of the poem, however, was his favorite on-trail drink, mint tea:
Mountain Mint Tea
By Luke Gardner
As I traverse the land under my feet
With the sun raining down its heat
I pondered how much longer it would be
For I could sit down and drink my Mountain Mint Tea.
I had traveled this land for a long bit,
Pondering if this was a journey I would quit
Pulled forward only by the singular glee
As I imagine the taste of sweet Mountain Mint Tea.
I came to a river, big as the Nile
Standing fearful, shaking for awhile
I glared down at its roaring path
Steadying myself against its foaming wrath
The river was wide, with not but two trees across
Held up in the center by a rock mantled with moss
Down-stream from this meager bridge there lay a cliff
Which filled me with fear and made my muscles go stiff
Midway, as I inched across the span
The logs they shifted like the desert sand
I tipped to the right, balance only on one hip
Grasping the air with nothing to grip
Stopped at mid-crossing, seized by desperation
My sight blinded with fear and waves of perspiration
I closed my eyes tightly and began to pray
And with life-shaking astonishment, I tilted the other way.
Righting my stance, I crossed over the roaring doom
And looked to the sky, thanking the One who rescued me from a watery tomb
Tears of joy filled my eyes because I was free
And sat down, in thanks, and brewed my Mountain Mint Tea.
From my steaming cup, I offered a portion to He
Who’s firm hand saved me from the falls and the shattering debris
A libation of thanks that I lived to see
Yet one more dram of my sweet Mountain Mint Tea.