This Is Why I Hike

Growing up, I was never an outdoorsy kid. I was afraid of bugs like you would not believe. My family went camping regularly, but I wasn’t necessarily the one wandering through the woods and exploring. Eventually, we moved from camping in state parks to renting a cabin for a week or two

(before the days of Air BnB and VRBO). I did gain a huge appreciation for the North Shore of Lake Superior and the simplicity of life at the Lake. Who knew that years later I would come to call this Lake my second home.

Like many people, during the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020 and the years that followed, I sought refuge in the outdoors. I had hiked plenty of times before, even did a disastrous backpacking trip or two on the Superior Hiking Trail with family, but I had yet to fully embrace the lifestyle. During the summer of 2021, I had a significant trauma retriggered. Due to the situation, I had to sit with it for a few weeks because there was no easy way out. It was in this period when I decided to really give backpacking a try. The thing was, I wanted to do it solo and only solo! I knew I had a lot to learn and gear to purchase. The idea of carrying everything that I’d need for days on my back is what kept me from giving it a try before. Apparently, this was the push I needed.

I used women’s hiking groups for support and did my research. Between handling the on-going trauma and preparing to set out, I got stressed with the gear choices. I ended up just getting a sort of kit with a tent, sleeping bag, and inflatable mattress. I got fitted for a pack. I found a stove that I thought would be a smart choice. With a pack weighing probably 50 pounds with food and water, I set out to a backcountry campsite I reserved in a state park I was familiar with. For 3 nights, I slept alone under the stars in complete isolation. During the day, I hiked in the state park around people, before ascending back to camp in the evening.

This was a powerful weekend for me. The fact that I could sleep alone in the woods was a massive accomplishment for someone who grew up afraid of the dark. More than that though, I noticed that the trees, lakes, and rivers could offer me something which nothing else could: non-judgement. I had a really hard time as a kid and growing up. My mental health was just one of the many layers. I needed a space where I could just be, and breathe. I needed a space where I would not feel controlled or judged. I needed to build my strength and self-confidence. The woods offered that to me and more.

In the five seasons (years) since that first weekend, the backcountry has given me more than I could ever have imagined. A thought that started driving me forward was all the places that only our feet can take us. Vehicles can only take us so far; eventually we have to set out on foot if we really want to experience the world. And that is exactly what I decided to do. I’d always lived life on my own terms, generally discarding cultural norms and the “supposed to do’s” of American life. So deciding to venture off the grid was not much of a stretch for me.

My time off the grid has been educational, inspiring, and challenging in its own way. Physical and financial challenges are the harder parts of this hobby and a life like I’ve chosen. It is hard to find the financial resources to travel to trails far away, and buy new gear when you need it. Honestly, that is the uglier side our community does not talk about enough; it’s not always cheap. The physical toll can also be its own issue. Training is not always fun, and it can begin months ahead of time depending on the trail. Once you’re on trail, you never know what it will throw at you. You need to be prepared, but not over prepared, for whatever happens. That being said, the beauty we find cannot be put into words. These places are magical and hard to access. We can climb a mountain, or multiple mountains, for days to get to that perfect spot. We may only get a few moments there, but the journey will still be worth it for us.

It’s wild to believe that I now call the trail my home. Yes, I live and work in the city. I have cats and other obligations to attend to at home. But the trail is where I am most myself and most at peace. Due to my chronic illnesses, I basically divide my time between my job and life in the city, and the trails. This is not typical for most adults, so the fact that I can spend weeks or months of the hiking season, on the trail, is unique to my situation. My full time job is actually managing my mental health and taking care of myself. I do that best while on the trail. Life out there allows my outside to match my inside and be in harmony.

And isn’t a life of peace and harmony what we’re all looking for anyway?