What’s the worst part of a hike?
When it ends and it’s time to head home.
But what if the hike didn’t end and you didn’t have to go home?
That would be backpacking.
Imagine, for instance, that instead of sadly piling into the car and heading home after 5 or 8 or 10 miles on the trail, you pitch camp, make dinner, then enjoy the quiet of the backcountry and the transition from day to dusk to dark. Then, awake the next morning and repeat.
It was the podcast you hope for setting out for a long walk: a tale of adventure and intrigue from a distant time that makes you think, Man, I wish I’d been there. That sense of longing fades to wistfulness when you realize you could have been there. Or some place very much like it.
The following post originally ran in December 2019. We run it again today for two reasons: 1) It explains (or tries) why we don’t let little inconveniences, like torrential rain and cold, keep us from hitting the trail, and 2) We’re way behind and don’t have a new post for this week.
Another year, another year of … .
If your knee-jerk response to finish this thought is “… not enough adventure,” we hear you. It’s a common sentiment this time of year. The leaves nearly gone, the cycle of another calendar year is fast coming to a close. We begin looking ahead to next year with thoughts of big plans for the year ahead. And that’s when it hit: “What were our plans for this year?” And what the heck happened to them?
The following originally appeared August 15, 2018. We run it again because it’s a good reminder — to us especially — to always pay attention, to never get cocky out there, and that, nature is always in charge.
You learn a lot while backpacking, especially about yourself. I’m pretty sure the nine backpackers I spent this past weekend with in Linville Gorge know a lot more about themselves today than they did before our trip.
