Hiking: It’s Always Uphill!

Hiking as exercise combines all the benefits of walking with the potential for sudden violent lonely death.

For those with a love of the outdoors—sometimes referred to as “Nature”—hiking can fill one with a sense of awe and freedom. For non hikers, it’s more a sense of floating aimlessly in space, tragically untethered to the mothership, oxygen reserves depleted.

So, hiking? Not a fan. I’m put off by all exercise that demands that I invest in “gear”. These include biking, weight lifting, kayaking, canoeing, skiing, and most strenuous activities ending in “ing” that don’t conclude with “barbeque.” Oh, and all sports.

But especially hiking.

According to the website of the recreational equipment, member-owned co-op R.E.I., (text abbreviation for “Be Right Back!”) a proper hike requires carrying 10 essentials items of gear and clothing all hikers need on the trail. These include “items for navigation, sun protection, insulation, illumination, first aid, fire, repairs, nutrition, hydration and emergency shelter.”

All of these are needed because even the most accomplished hiker can find themselves floating aimlessly in space, tragically untethered to the mothership, oxygen reserves depleted.

Look, I warned you! Stick with walking the neighborhood which only requires a dog and poop bags.

Of utmost importance for hiking, as with all sweat-related activities, is to purchase a top-quality athletic shoe. For convenience, these usually are sold in pairs. The experienced hiker will consider numerous factors when choosing shoes: terrain, weather conditions, breathability, water resistance, rattlesnake strikes, werewolf attacks, and affordability. Basically, hiking shoes come in two varieties: those you cannot afford and ones you regret buying.

But the most intriguing and off-putting hiking gear are trekking poles, also referred to as hiking poles, walking poles, trekking staffs, and . . . well, you know, just “sticks”. Resembling ski poles and often constructed of lightweight materials, trekking poles provide walkers greater stability, load support, and reduced fatigue. My nephew Zack, an avid all-terrain hiker, advises that poles help share the workload with your arms and core, while Larry, another hiker and my best friend since childhood, admits that he uses poles for his bad knees and, at least once, to kill a werewolf. He remains out on bond while authorities continue to investigate that claim.

I had no intention of hiking ever, and often checked my bucket list to make sure no prankster had added it. So, while on a vacation to North Carolina, I was taken off guard when my wife suggested a hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Denise always has been a serious walker known for wearing out our dogs who flop down after a “stroll” whimpering, “Jeez! Enough already!” Had I suspected that someday she might convert to hiking, I would have married her overweight, lazy coworker. (Not you, Cora! You’re lovely inside and out!)

Married near 50 years, Denise knows exactly how to play, then reel me in.

DENISE: “We never get to the mountains. And it’s an easy hike. We’re only a half mile from the trailhead.”

DAVE: “What the Hell’s a trailhead? It sounds sharp, maybe jagged!”

DENISE: “It’s like a baby hike. We won’t need poles or any gear.”

DAVE: “It’s a MOUNTAIN!! I read the brochure! What about the elevation? Oxygen depletion? Floating untethered?”

DENISE: “Dave, what are you really worried about?”

DAVE: “. . . You know.”

DENISE: “Rattlesnakes? Werewolves?”

DAVE: “Sweating!”

DENISE: “Dave, the view at the summit is spectacular!”

DAVE: “Summit? That’s not like a trailhead, is it?”

DENISE: “And there’s a gift shop.”

DAVE: “. . . You think they sell mugs?”

DENISE: “Yes! Probably with funny slogans!”

DAVE: “I’m in!”

To be fair, I wouldn’t describe the ascent as perilous since I could take a break every 50 yards to read the next trail brochure conveniently located in boxes beside the water fountains. However, there was much sweat! Also, I had many questions about the uniquely mountainous terrain.

DAVE: “Are you tired? Cuz’ I’m really tired! Is this all gonna be uphill? When we finish at the. . . I don’t know, the summit? The trail face?. . . how far are we from the parking lot? I’m so hungry! Do you have any mints in your purse? Even just the wrapper? I know you do! You’re hoarding, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?”

Days later—OK, 45 minutes—we reached the trail-summit-head-face. I stood on the highest point breathing the oxygen-thin air and marveling at the view of what I’m told was a valley, now obscured by fog. Above me, the rich expanse of even more fog left me humbled in the face of Nature’s casual disinterest.

But I had conquered the mountain! As had, 10 minutes later, a sweet little yorkie named Zelda who, judging by her rhinestone collar, was particularly rugged. She was followed by two youngsters, the grandchildren of Henry, a light-hearted 84-year-old electrical contractor from Iowa. Where it’s really, really flat.

No one was sweaty, tired, hungry or, as near as I could tell, hoarding mints. However, 84-year-old Henry was using a walking staff. So technically, I won.

And I bought a mug!

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