Packers Telling Their Llamas to Take a Hike : Bit of South America Comes North as Odd Animal Becomes the Spitting Image of the Mule and Horse When It Comes to Trips in the Mountains

In several mountain areas of California, there are some awfully funny looking animals walking around. They’ve got long ears, lots of wool, carry packs and have feet like ostriches.

Steve Biggs looked into his corral at his pack station in Mt. Shasta City, almost in the shadow of 14,162-foot-high Mt. Shasta, looked at his 50-or-so llamas, and tried to explain everything.

“I was teaching sociology in San Francisco in 1977, when I saw an article in Sports Illustrated about llamas,” he said.

“I was a backpacker at the time, and I became intrigued with the possibilities of the llama as a pack animal in California. I started driving around the state, talking to people who bred llamas, learning everything I could about the animals. In 1979, I bought three llamas and moved up here.”

Today, Biggs has about 50 llamas, three employees and takes outdoor types into the Klamath and Marble mountains and the Trinity Alps on 3- to 5-day pack trips, at costs from $255 to $400.

If you like the idea of mountain hiking in California but not the idea of loading a 60-pound pack on your back, hire a llama. Traditional western American pack stations, of course, have employed horses and mules for this sort of thing for more than a century. So when llamas started showing up on trails of the Sierra Nevada, the Klamaths and the Marbles, there were sneers aplenty from old-school types.

“Pack station operators like to say that llamas spook their animals when they meet on the trail,” Biggs said. “But I’ve been taking llamas into the mountains for eight summers, and it hasn’t been a serious problem yet. Sure, if a horse has never seen a llama, it might get jittery passing one on the trail. So when we see a horse/mule pack train coming, we pull our animals as far off the trail as we can, and let them pass.”

Traditional pack stations in California’s mountain areas are common. In the Eastern Sierra alone, there are 16. But over the past 10 years or so, it’s gotten so you have to define what you mean by “pack animal”--horses, mules or llamas?

“There are three llama pack stations in the state now,” said Biggs, who is also president of the International Llama Assn., a group of about 800 U.S. llama raisers. The group tries to prevent the importation of Chilean llamas. Prices of U.S. llamas have escalated rapidly in recent years--particularly females--and llama owners would like to see the trend continue. Presently, Biggs estimates, there are from 8,000 to 10,000 llamas in the United States.

“The demand seems to grow all the time,” he said. “They’ve been considered good pets for decades, and they’re raised for their wool. But as pack animals, llamas have really caught on. They’re very popular in Alaska now, there are 10 llama pack outfits there that I know of.”

On a Shasta Llamas trip, hikers gather at Biggs’ outpost in a green valley in West Mt. Shasta City. He lives in a 100-year-old farmhouse where some Tom Mix movies were filmed a half-century ago. Two of Biggs’ wranglers, Will Murphy and Bob Manley, jump into the llama corral to find four animals for a one-day hike.

The llamas aren’t willing participants. They scatter in all directions, forcing Murphy and Manley to get a long rope, go to the far end of the corral and walk to the barn, forcing the llamas to a confined area. At last, four are involuntarily loaded onto a stock truck. When the truck gate is slammed shut, the animals begin to hum, and lay their rabbit-like ears back.

“That’s their ‘moderate distress’ sound,” Biggs explained. “They’re saying: ‘Hey, we just got back from a five-day trip yesterday, don’t we get a couple days off?’ ”

Next, Biggs, driving the stock truck, led a small caravan of vehicles north on the I-5 freeway to the Stewart’s Spring Road exit. Heading west, into the Trinity Divide area of the Klamath Mountains, he drove up a Shasta-Trinity National Forest road to a Pacific Crest Trail trailhead, at a 6,000-foot elevation. At a point where the Pacific Crest Trail crossed the Forest Service Road, the vehicles were parked and the llamas unloaded.

Biggs began cinching up some plain, simple leather saddles on his animals.

“I designed these llama pack saddles, after trying a lot of others that didn’t work,” he said. “I have a leathermaker make them for me. I’ve sold over a hundred of them to llama owners around the state.”

Daypacks, lunches, cooking gear, jackets, raingear (just in case), wine, cameras, water and other supplies were secured to the backs of Rosy, 7; Esteban, 6 1/2; Pablo, 3, and Andy, 2 1/2.

“The older animals will carry over 100 pounds, but we rarely ask them to,” Biggs said. “No one rides them, not even kids. They’re strictly pack animals. Even at that, llamas can carry more weight in proportion to their body weight than horses and mules. And they eat a lot less--maybe two-thirds less than a horse or a mule.”

Biggs put a smaller load on Andy, the smallest and youngest llama.

“Andy here will only carry 20 or 30 pounds. This is his first trip. He’s been halter-broken, and he’s hiked with a halter, but hasn’t had to carry anything until today.”

The day’s hikers were introduced to their llamas, and, reins in hand, set out south on the Pacific Crest Trail toward Mt. Eddy, about four miles distant. The trail was mostly level, carved on the side of a timbered ridge. Looking west for most of the hike, the hikers could see the snow-capped Trinity Alps. About a thousand feet below the trail, in a long, green valley, bright red and yellow tents could be made out next to a small creek.

Hiking with a llama provides clues of how they evolved, in the high altitudes of the Andes, a precipitous region of poor forage.

At each creek crossing or photo stop, a distinctive trait of the llamas was plainly seen. They will eat anything--pine needles, weeds, moss, grasses, tree bark, dead chunks of wood--that’s green or looks as if it used to be green. And, like their camel cousins, llamas drink very little water. On this trip, Andy guzzled only two mouthfuls of creek water all day.

In a few hours, the group stopped at Upper Deadfall Lake, for lunch. Biggs and Murphy tied the llamas to small pines, and they immediately laid down in the grass and remained quiet for the entire stop. Llamas only seem to become upset when one is separated from the group, touching off another chorus of humming.

Murphy: “Llamas are wonderful, low impact back country animals. They’re very sure-footed, hardly ever stumble, and their feet are so soft a 300-pound animal can step on your foot and not hurt you. They don’t tear up the trails nearly as bad as horses and mules. In fact, they make less of a print on a trail than a backpacker’s boot. And you don’t have to turn them loose to browse at night. You can stake them or tie them to a tree and they’re perfectly content.”

It is true, Biggs said, that llamas spit.

“They’ll spit at each other during fights over food,” he said. “But it’s easy to train them not to spit around people. One whack on the snoot usually solves the problem.”

Llamas evolved in the Andes regions of South America, at altitudes up to 16,000 feet. Andean people have raised them as pack animals for the last 1,000 years.

Late in the day, on the way back to the trailhead, Biggs said only a minority of his 50 llamas actually are used as pack animals.

“None of the females pack, they’re too valuable,” he said. “Female llamas, in about 1977, were worth about $2,500. Now, they’re running $10,000 to $12,000. Males run $1,500 to $2,000. Ideally, you want your females pregnant all the time, or taking care of their babies. I only use about 15 of the males for packing. I’d like to have 20 or 25, and offer more trips.

“But all male llamas aren’t ideal pack animals. Unlike mules or horses, body types vary greatly in llamas. For packing, you want males that have long legs and lean or medium builds, rather than stocky-broad types, which tend to be the best for wool production.

“I’ve considered the wool end of the business, but never gone in that direction. Llama wool goes for good money, but it’s too labor intensive.

“As pack animals, they’re hard to beat. Costs are much less than having horses and mules. Feed costs are about two-thirds less. They don’t run up much in the way of vet bills. Once in a while one will get an upset stomach, but Milk of Magnesia usually solves the problem.”

This summer, Biggs figures his llamas will pack in about 130 fly fishermen, outdoors photographers and hikers into the mountains. A vegetarian, Biggs emphasizes back country trips for the gourmand. At dinner, for example, typical fare might include some chilled white zinfandel, chips and dips, antipasto, wheat pasta with mushroom sauce, broccoli soup, vegetarian enchiladas, potato pancakes with apple sauce, fresh cakes and cheesecakes, and, on the season’s last trip, champagne and ice cream.

And what do the llamas get? More of the usual: tree bark, pine needles, grass and weeds. And hold the water.