Do you need a guide on a hike?

Because we prepare and support groups of tourists on hikes, we're asked the question in the title of this note fairly often. And it isn't about advertising — it's a wish to share with you, experienced and first-time travelers alike, our own hard-won experience of taiga life.

Over long years of working in the nature reserves of Siberia I've often met groups of tourists who'd found themselves in a hard spot on the trail. The difficulties mostly look like this:

a route chosen on the principle of "the farther the better" — that is, no real idea of what lies ahead,
a hike decided at the last moment (at a meeting, a party, a holiday) — so there's no time to prepare properly,
a route planned from 1960s topographic maps that no longer match reality (the winter huts, fords and trails),
time on the trail set by the word of friends who walked it before, with no regard for the group's make-up, the ages, the weather or the season,
food cut back on the assumption of hunting, fishing, and picking berries and mushrooms along the way,
and the most common mistake of all — the wrong approach to clothes and footwear.

The most memorable case in my practice is a meeting with tenth-graders from a Novosibirsk school in the 1990s, on the Maly Abakan river. The group was eight strong — boys and girls. At a party they'd agreed to go hiking for a week, because their friends had loved such a trip the year before. On a 1961 map they found a suitable route in Khakassia: along the Kurukul, Karatosh and Izyrla rivers to the Maly Abakan, then down it on catamarans to the town of Abaza. On paper every trail was passable, and the nights were planned in winter huts. They meant to cover 15–20 km a day and float 3–4 days, so the whole hike was set for two weeks. Since it was summer, they took no warm clothes; for footwear mostly canvas shoes and trainers, and a single pair of waders among them. They carried little food, planning to catch grayling on plastic flies. We met them at the Nizhny cordon on the 19th day of their hike. For the previous three days they'd eaten nothing but mushrooms, and bears had frightened them twice. They hadn't caught a single fish. All of them were exhausted. The trails turned out to be blocked by windfall, the huts were almost all gone, and they'd slept under plastic sheeting... Naturally we fed them, warmed them, let them wash in the banya, showed them what grayling actually bite on, and passed word by radio to Abaza so their parents could be told the children were all right.

And there are many such examples. People reach Agafya Lykova 300 kilometers away with two loaves of bread, "hitchhiking" along the river. In winter, at −30°, I've met skiers in tourist boots who nearly froze their feet. The last example: a couple of years ago, in summer, a Muscovite tourist past fifty read an article online about Putin's stay in Khakassia, where he fitted a snow leopard with a collar, and decided to walk through those places. He reckoned the most important thing on the hike was fighting the midges, so he took about a dozen repellents and almost no food. He stayed off the trails (though every one of them is cut through) and wouldn't sleep in the huts either. His journey lasted two weeks instead of seven days. The result: instead of the pleasure of being with nature — fear and disappointment in the route. And this shows how often people simply aren't ready for a hike: no experience, no practice of being in mountain-taiga country.

In fairness, there are just as many examples of superbly prepared groups that manage perfectly well without guides. One striking one is an acquaintance of mine, a professor from Saratov. His respectable age in no way reflects the difficulty of the routes he has walked, and his preparation and the standard of his hikes could serve as a model for a beginner.

So the question of an accompanying person — better still, a guide-instructor — for these hikes (multi-day treks through mountain-taiga country) is a real one. The difference is this: an accompanying person knows the route and can lead the group along it, whereas a guide-instructor must teach the skills of trail life — setting up camp, laying a fire, packing a rucksack, crossing fords and much more. On the hike he is responsible for how well everyone rests. He runs the radio, answers for the group's safety, points out the sights along the way, gives excursions, and sees that everyone is fed and healthy for the whole trip. For all this he needs authority in the group.

Possible downsides of having a guide-instructor along:

an extra financial burden on everyone (it varies with the difficulty of the route and the group, and can be considerable),
an "extra" person in the group — especially among friends — a strong irritant for the group's leader,
the smiling, friendly guide you negotiated with may not stay that way for the whole route, and the human factor counts for a lot on a hike,
sometimes the group's level of preparation is higher than the guide's, which won't do the route any favors,
and finally, a guide may use his knowledge of the ground for selfish ends, or out of ignorance lead you goodness knows where. The question of trust is the most important in organizing any hike.

Pluses of having a guide-instructor in the group:

he has deep experience of field conditions in this area,
he knows the route well (campsites, winter huts, fords and the rest),
he knows the local people and hunters whose land the way crosses,
he knows what and how you can feed on along the route at any given time,
he has means of self-defense and radio communications,
he can adjust or change the route on the move because of outside factors,
he can teach trail-life skills to beginners and younger members, and "squeeze" the most out of the hike and the meeting with nature.

But it isn't enough to decide whether you need a guide-instructor. You also have to find the right one among the many candidates, because most of them would suit, at best, the role of an accompanying person — someone ready, for a fee, to walk the route with you. Most of the pluses and minuses I've listed depend directly on the guide's own qualities and skills. Here are my criteria for choosing one:

he should be a local who knows the ground well,
a physically strong person,
someone with real experience of taiga life,
not a drinker, or nothing good will come of the hike,
he should hold a permit to carry and keep a personal firearm, have his own working radio or other means of communication, a driver's license and his own car,
ideally a calm, even-tempered character,
he should have the skills to teach and accompany tourist groups on hikes,
and ideally you'll have positive word about him, or at least no negative — if there's objective reason not to trust, don't tempt fate.

All of this you can learn about a person if you prepare for the hike in advance (at least a month ahead). Over that time you'll reach your own decision about whether he suits you or not.

And finally. If you've found such a person, done one or several hikes with him, and convinced yourself he's a good man and an excellent professional, don't lose touch with him — and recommend him to your friends. Because in the taiga, as well as on reconnaissance missions, you need to go with trusted people.