Uphill

I love to hike. All kinds of hiking. Flat, steep, rocky, muddy. Whatever, it just does it for me. I hike locally and I’ve hiked in various locations throughout my travels. With each step, my eyes are down focusing on the next move, where the trail will go next. Rocks, and dirt and branches all within my sight. Sometimes the path is difficult to see. It’s confusing, it's unclear. My eyes squint and struggle to see the trail. Which way is the correct way. Which way will get me to my intended destination? It’s not always as simple as it sounds. Sometimes it takes a moment, a few seconds or longer to make the proper choice. And sometimes my eyes misjudge, and I need to double back, or find a new path. Sometimes I find myself in unfamiliar places, no end in sight and the skies open up and the rain pours down. I hasten my pace because I don’t know where I am or how to get back to the correct path. I’ve often thought that hiking is in many ways, a metaphor for life.

The path was dry, dusty and filled with small, slippery pebbles which were deadly as ice on a   mountain in Arizona, but I was struck less by the terrain and more by the camaraderie on the mountain. The path was steep and cluttered with boulders and my eyes searched for a path for my feet to follow. On the way up the mountain, it was heave ho of my body-weight over boulders to ascend the sharp incline. Conversely, the descent was a deft maneuvering between rocks along slippery dirt and pebbles.  The wide jagged path was crowded with climbers. Some were amateurs, others were running the trail for speed, but most were recreational hikers like myself. The pace was slow at certain points and we hiked single file waiting for those ahead of us to navigate the trail. There was no road rage on this path. 

“You ok?” 

“No rush. Better to be safe.”

 “Need a hand?”

 “You got this keep going.”

 These were comments I overheard.  Pep talks and helping hands were scattered throughout the path. Despite her slow pace and careful footing, my friend slipped and sustained some nasty scratches on her hand, arm and leg. We had offers for alcohol wipes and bandaids from strangers on our journey. At the summit, hikers offered to take photos of one another when someone noticed their struggle with the awkward selfie. This is what I love about hiking. It’s a culture that attracts participants that are on a journey not a race. It’s not a get ahead, I win kind of activity. Our pace wasn’t judged or rushed and our determination and willingness to try was respected. We witnessed fellow hikers cheerleading all along the way. 

As I mentioned, I view hiking as a metaphor for life.  It’s uphill and downhill. It’s smooth and rocky. Some come prepared, others just wing it. You can’t always see the path but you just have to keep looking for it and stay the course. You may make poor choices but you can always find your way back to the trail which will lead you to your destination. There are many people you will encounter along the way and most are happy to help you, cheer you, and have patience with you. Most want to see you succeed and want you to do so safely and at your own pace. And when you have a moment of success and accomplishment, most humans are happy to celebrate with you. From my perspective, this defines life.

 Over the past several years, I’ve searched for my path on and off the hills. Hiking has never failed to give me the gift of bringing me back to my true self. My only focus is where to place my feet, to look for the path that sometimes isn't visible at first glance. With sun on my face, and dirt on my shoes I’ve navigated the most uphill climbs in my life and in nature. A hike gives me clarity and enough quiet to hear my true voice which can be muted by the chaos of real life, but one step at a time on a dusty trail, I think I’m figuring it all out.