What is so compelling about strapping the bare necessities of living onto your back, leaving the comforts of home, and walking for miles up and down trail filled with sharp rocks, slippery roots, and varmints that really don’t like you being in their neighborhood? Why do I want to be cold or hot, wet from rain or wet from sweat, sleep on the ground (or suspended between a couple of trees for you folks who like hammocks), and wake up stiff and hurting? Who in their right mind enjoys practicing being miserable? These are the questions that I hear from friends and family every time I prepare for a hiking trip. Honestly, these are great questions! I’m not completely sure I can answer them. There are reasons I do this, but it’s hard to put into words. You just must get out and go to begin to understand. Even then, you may miss the answer. I am not someone who says that backpacking is for everyone. I do say that everyone needs some way of connecting with things much bigger than themselves. For me, that is backpacking.
It doesn’t take long for my friends to discover that my adult life was formed by my military experience. The Army was home for more than three decades. During that time, some assignments were easier than others. I tried to make every situation as comfortable as possible. My motto was, “I don’t need to practice being miserable.” My peers seemed to enjoy bragging about how they endured the hardest of circumstances. They boasted about their consecutive sleepless nights. They wore their hypertension like a badge of honor. Their breaks, scraps, bumps, and bruises were displayed with great pride. Honestly, I thought there was something a little masochistic and neurotic about them. I had some tough experiences but didn’t find them something to hold up as signs of my manhood. I just had to go through the hard times to get the job done. So, when I told my wife that I wanted to walk for days on a trail, climbing mountains, eating dehydrated food, digging cat holes, and sleeping in a sleeping bag in the freezing cold or smoldering heat, she asked, “Why do you want to practice being miserable?” Her question rocked me back on my heels.
Well, there are challenges to backpacking. It isn’t always pleasant, fun, or comfortable. My question to myself is, “is it worth it?” That is a question that I can answer with a resounding “YES!” Now to explain why it’s worth it is a harder task. I’ll try to share a starting place of an answer.
There is nature itself, I like to call it creation. There is the retreat from the anxieties of daily life. And there is the community of hikers that are so different than most other communities. I’ll start with creation. When I first step out on a trail there is a mystery about it. There is an unknown when I pass by the trail head and walk onto a path leading into the woods. I really don’t know what waits ahead of me. Even familiar paths are new. Each season of the year transforms the path into a unique adventure. The trees may be filled with leaves and block views of mountain ranges until suddenly and without warning, they open up and there is a spectacular image of valleys filled with lakes and river separating mountain ranges that reach out and fade away into the sky. The trail may follow beside or cross through a stream of water cascading over rocks and logs. The sound is like creation’s own harp or xylophone playing an endless song. Creation draws me in. I begin as a spectator, looking at its beauties. Soon, I loose myself and I’m absorbed into it. Nature ceases being out there, and creation becomes it all, including me. In that moment, I find a peace that is missing out here in the hustle and bustle of life. That feeling of inclusion is one of the reasons I hike. What appears to others as misery is really an ointment that sooths the pains of my soul.
The retreat from the daily demands of life is another part of the answer. I remember Operation Desert Storm when many of my friends and fellow Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines deployed to the Middle East after Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. I was a young captain. The news never stopped! The morning news was followed by “special reports” that continued until the 12 o’clock news. Then more “special reports” came on until the evening news. It was nerve wrecking!
A few years later, I was serving in the Pentagon as a lieutenant colonel. We were at war again. Back in Iraq, as well as Afghanistan. I would come home from work long hours at a wartime pace. We called it “optempo.” My wife was watching the news to try to understand what I was doing. She would say, “is this right?” I would answer, “no, it isn’t.” I couldn’t talk about much of what I was doing, but I saw how distorted the news was and the media lost all credibility with me. It still has never earned back my trust. Politics, biased news reports, everyone telling me what I should thing, rather than telling me the facts and believing that I have the intelligence to understand and make my own decisions. It wears on my emotions and drains my energy. So, hiking is a great escape. The simple things on the trail are what is truly important. Its reality is real. I am expected to understand and make wise choices. The alternative can have stark consequences. This is where I find peace. Peace is becoming a common word as I describe my experience.
Finally, there is the community. Sure, new folks enter the hiking world with many of the habits they carry from their other lives. However, it doesn’t take long for the arrogance, cynicism, judgment, and privilege to fade. The things we see in our daily world quickly fade. There is a humility taught by nature. I realize that I can’t conquer the trail, after I step off her paths she will remain, fully prepared for someone else or maybe even me to return. Instead of me arrogantly conquering her, the trail has conquered me. I am a better person for it. My cynicism and judgment of how others hike these trails is replaced with acceptance and encouragement for others. How they hike is their adventure. I have no right to judge them or rob them of their accomplishments. After all, anyone who takes one step on a trail is part of a very small sub-culture. They are a sister or brother, a fellow sojourner sharing nature. They are also part of creation. Finally, I surrender my privilege to something bigger than me. Privilege is a topic that has been coopted for political purposes these days. I’m not going there. I am thinking of privilege as being selfish and self-centered. The trail teaches me that the world doesn’t revolve around me. I am only a small part of it and being part of something much larger than myself, my wants and “rights”, I need to be a good steward. Rather than throwing my trash around, I need to leave the trail as good as I found it. I need to try to leave it better than I found it. So, I take my trash with me. This is part of the value “Leave no trace.” The hiking community is the most caring, compassionate, sharing, and supportive communities that I have seen. I wish that others could experience this support and learn from it.
These are some of the things that I get from hiking. The rewards are much greater than the miseries. I don’t suggest that everyone should hike (though you may find your own rewards out here). I do suggest you find something that earns your passion. Something that draws you out of your self-made bubble and into a bigger world. Something filled with beautiful surprises that you can share with others who are supportive, compassionate, and desire good for you. Listen to your heart, there is a still, small voice inviting you to be with something greater. Where there is creation, there is also a Creator who loves you.