“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” —Edmund Hillary
I did not go on my first hike until my mid-30s. I could blame it on the fact that I grew up on the Great Plains of South Dakota and North Dakota. But mostly, to be honest, I just wasn’t interested. Having never gone, I didn’t see the value and always declined when asked.
I went on my first hike a few years back while living in Vermont. At the urging of my wife, and with my two young kids, we walked a beautiful forest trail on a cool August morning. I carried a small backpack with water and snacks. When we reached the top, we ate lunch together overlooking a perfectly still pond and a scenic Vermont landscape.
And I fell in love with climbing mountains.
A few weeks ago, my 11-year old son, my 61-year old dad, and I hiked Camelback Mountain in Phoenix. Last weekend, I hiked down the Grand Canyon with my son along the South Kaibab Trail. And later this week, my wife and daughter will join us to walk Waterfall Trail in the White Tank Mountains. (There are definitely some benefits of living in Phoenix during the winter).
Now, just to be clear, by no stretch of the imagination would I classify myself as an expert hiker. Most of our hikes last 2 hours. And I have no plans to climb Mount Kilimanjaro or walk the Appalachian Trail. But waking early on a Saturday morning to walk 3-5 miles along a forest trail with lunch in your backpack is a journey I’d recommend for anyone.
It is a healthy physical exercise that creates wonderful memories. It provides opportunity to slow down and disconnect. And given the chance, hiking teaches us important truths about life.
Life Lessons Learned Climbing Mountains:
Many have gone before. Every time I hike, I find myself grateful for those who have gone before and have smoothed a trail for me. And I am reminded, in life, we all stand on the hard work of those who have walked before us.
Many will come after. I am not the last to walk this trail, climb this mountain, or witness these views. While I am thankful for the work of those who have gone before, I also sense an important obligation to those who will come after—to leave the trail, the mountain, and the earth in better condition than I found it.
Not all paths have been traveled. Just for fun, I try to build a rock sculpture somewhere during each hike. I look for unusual places where the balancing rocks will remain undisturbed but still noticed by observant hikers in the future. To accomplish that, I always pick a spot just off the beaten path. Each time, I am reminded there are always new paths to be found in life and new discovers to be made.
Sometimes quiet is the best noise. I love the stillness and calm of an empty trail. It reminds me how much I love hearing no noise at all.
You can travel farther and accomplish more than you think. Uphill trails only leave two choices: reach the top or turn around. Reaching the top only requires the perseverance to keep putting one foot in front of the other. When life gets tough, I try to remember all we can do is put one foot in front of the other and just keep going.
Healthy fuel is important. Hiking spurs intentionality in the food and drink I choose to consume. I eat a healthy breakfast. I bring water, thoughtful snacks, and a light lunch if necessary. I choose healthy fuel so my body will function properly during the hike. Plus, there’s something that just doesn’t feel right about eating artificial foods while being present in the natural world.
Pack light. The weight of physical possessions is clearly felt when they are piled on your back. Wise travelers carry only what is needed for the journey. May it be true of me while packing—and in living.
Choose your steps carefully. While hiking, each step is clearly chosen. I focus intently where my next foot is going to land—sometimes even calculating 2-3 steps in advance. This intentionality helps me avoid unnecessary harm. And I hope the decisions I make with my life’s direction will be made with the same precision and care.
Age is only a number. I’ve seen hikers under the age of 7 and I’ve seen hikers over the age of 70. I am learning more and more that age only represents the number of years you have been alive. It does not serve as a litmus test for opportunity. Those who decide early in life to care for their bodies and not allow age to limit their potential will not be handicapped by it.
If you can climb a mountain, you can do anything. While not technically true, the mantra still goes through my head constantly during a hike. Reaching the top of a mountain (any mountain) is an impressive physical, mental, and emotional accomplishment. And it is motivating. It reminds me I can accomplish important things with my life if I dream big and put in the work.
Go climb a mountain. You’ll love it.
Jonathan Look, Jr. says
Great lesson! I have challenged myself to do at least one thing that pushes my boundaries and challenges me everyday. What a huge difference it makes in my enjoyment of life.
McKenzi says
You’re from South Dakota? I’m excited to head that as I am originally from the plains state as well. While I grew up in the middle of the state, I did venture ton the black hills often for hiking and still travel back for rock climbing . I love your work and sincerely get so much out if it. Thank you!
Randy Howard says
My two favorite metaphors in life: Baseball and hiking a mountain. Baseball because, in the words of Rod Kanehl, it’s “a lot like life. The line drives are caught, the squibbles go for base hits. It’s an unfair game.” And hiking a mountain because no other experience, in my opinion, captures the essence of the moment when the fruits of your labors come to fruition. You work hard and are rewarded with (if you’re lucky) a breathtaking panorama of mountaintops and lakes and an expanse as far as the eye can see. You can’t beat that.
Kristy says
I have been meaning to respond when you talk about growing up in South Dakota. That is where I grew up as well! We did make it to the Black Hills on vacation quite a bit growing up and I went to church camp there. Now, those are not “mountains” when you compare them to the Rockies or even the mountains on the east coast, but I remember hiking in the Black Hills at church camp for the first time in 5th or 6th grade and how it made a huge impact on me. I think that is where my love for hiking and mountains started. Mountain top experiences are called just that for a reason. The sense of awe and wonder I get from being in the mountains has never gone away since that time. It also has a spiritual quality to it. I feel close to God when I am in the mountains. Even though I grew up on the Great Plains and still live in the Midwest where there are no mountains (Iowa), I am always drawn to the mountains. If I go too long without being in the mountains, my life starts to seem “flat” literally and figuratively. Last summer we went to Acadia National Park, the summer before that we went to Yosemite National Park. This summer we are not going to the mountains (going to Disney World) and I am hoping I can last until I next get to spend time in the mountains! There is something special about mountains that put your life into perspective and humble you as a person. And maybe growing up and living where it is very flat makes that even more so.
Chris Peek says
Great post. Hiking is one of my passions, and I can relate to everything you said. There seems to be a point on every difficult hike where fatigue sets in. Much like life, we can either turn around or push through the pain. By choosing the latter, we receive the payoff by reaching the peak and basking in the Creator’s handiwork.
Vincent Nguyen says
The last time I hiked was in October before I moved to the PI. We’ve got to hike some mountains together once I’m back in AZ, Joshua. :)
Oliver says
“Mountains are fountains.”
I can’t help but to think of John Muir whenever I read the word “mountain”. I adore his philosophy and his connection with the great outdoors and the marvels of nature. He left a massive legacy indeed… Here some more pieces of his wisdom:
“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.” ~ John Muir
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
Greg says
I really enjoy your blog and, as a hiker, enjoyed this post. I do have an issue with the building of rock sculptures, however. On many trails, especially above tree line, rock sculptures called cairns are built by trail crews to serve as directional aids. One that you build “off the beaten path” confuses the purpose of official trail cairns, and volunteer trail crews spend many hours nationwide each year disassembling unofficial cairns. Additionally, building a sculpture, even of natural materials, goes against the principles of Leave No Trace, which are guidelines for minimalist impact on the outdoors. Especially when you magnify the impact by the many trail users, we are talking about a lot of rocks potentially being moved around on a mountain.
Hope that you take this as constructive criticism not an attack. Keep up the great writing and inspiring posts.
Jessica says
I totally agree! I read your post last afternoon and decided spontaneously to climb the closest mountan there is on my way home. Although, I didn’t pack light as I was on my way back from the library – I had my backpack full with books and my (rather old and heavy) laptop – it was a great experience! I saw a wonderful sunset :)
Cheers!
Chris says
What a rewarding discovery. I grew up in the midwest, too, and have come to love the mountains of the western US and Canada. I have mixed feelings about your habit of building a sculpture on every hike, though. In the strictest sense, it violates leave no trace principles, which seem to be aligned with minimalism, btw. Further, now when I hike by, you’re impacting my experience with something I may not want to see, and for some reason, seeing these sorts of things generally rubs me the wrong way. Call me cranky. If you’re building cairns to mark the way, however, then I do appreciate your structural modifications to mother earth :)