Why I Hike (It Keeps Me Sane)

Between the years of 2001 and 2009, I lived almost exclusively in the city of Chicago.  Sure, I would have stints of a month or two, here and there, living in Maryland or traveling.  However, most of my time was spent in the White City.

My overall memory of Chicago was positive, but I remember leaving because I was losing my sanity.  I felt trapped, lonely, and unsuccessful.  One thinks of the city as a land of unending opportunity and while I believe this to be true for the right kind of person, I don’t think I was the right kind of person.  The thrill of exploring new restaurants, bars, and other forms of entertainment had run its course for me.

I realized by the end of my stint in Chicago that I was trying desperately to extend the exciting college days I had there.  People had moved on, though, and soon I found myself alone more often than I preferred.  Furthermore, my interest into seeing if I could become a professional guitarist was waning.  After struggling for a couple years, I realize that it would take much more time, moxy, and uncertainty before I could make anything fruitful out of playing guitar.

So, I decided to close that chapter in my life and move back to Maryland.  My immediately feeling upon return was one of sadness.  I gave up one kind of undesirable existence for another.  I was approaching 26 years old and I lived in the suburbs.  I was too broke to live on my own in any place remotely hip, so I moved back in with my parents.  I spent a few months unemployed, and I lived vicariously through the character of CJ in the video game Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.  It was the only way I felt any sort of power.  I needed something else.

Eventually, I got a job with a lot of young coworkers and life regained a sort of rhythm for me.  I reconnected with old friends from the area.  Still, though, I occasionally ruminated on thoughts that I had wasted a lot of time, that I had missed opportunities, and that I ultimately wasn’t good enough.

One day, my brother, who lived in the area, and an old high school friend invited me to go rock climbing.  While I was no good at it and still not very good at it, I realized how much I loved being out in nature.  Simply chilling in the sunshine while the fresh air breezed around me was worth it to me.  Living in Chicago felt like being encased in concrete.  Out in nature, I felt free.

During these years when we were all single and childless, almost every weekend became an adventure.  We added backpacking to our repertoire and that is when I contracted the hiking bug.  Our first major trip was climbing Mount LeConté in the Smokies.  We went in late December and were inadequately equipped or prepared for the weather.  However, being able to scale a mountain that size, sleeping rough in 15-degree weather, and living through it empowered me.

Though logically ridiculous, when one is perched atop a mountain and looking down at the world below, one senses that anything’s possible.  For me, I came to appreciate humanity through hiking.  After a few days of roughing it, civilized life suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.  One sees the positive in humanity after experiencing the harsh indifference of the wilderness.  The wilderness does not try to coddle you or be your friend.  It has no sympathy.

I realize through hiking how much humanity has achieved through cooperation.  I appreciate all humanity has done to get from wilderness to comfy homes, good food, and the other pleasures of modern life.  I used to dread a normal existence.  It was why I gave up so much of my 20s to recording music and playing live music.  I figured I could take a chance towards the easy life.  It took a few years of grinding before realizing that the easy life didn’t come that easy.

After spending a lot of time backpacking and being in the wilderness, normal life seems more a blessing than a curse.  I think that dealing with other people and living a “rat race” sort-of lifestyle is ultimately preferable to what the wilderness provides you, which is nothing.

The effect doesn’t last forever, though.  If I’m in the rat race too long, I forget.  I become more inclined to fight with my fellow man rather than compromise.  I start to feel trapped.  It’s during these times that the call of the wild comes to me.  That is when I start planning to get away and remind myself that the state of nature is not a reasonable alternative.  I need those reminders to stay sane.