Hiking Alone in Nature

We aren’t alone when we hike by ourselves in nature because nature goes with us. Nature is a companion who walks at our pace, and has stored treasures around each bend in the trail. Sometimes nature converses so loudly that we can’t hear ourselves think, like when we’re standing at the bottom of a waterfall, feeling the earth vibrate from the pounding water. Sometimes it murmurs so quietly that we have to get down on our knees and lean in close to hear what it’s saying.

Often we don’t have to hike very far to feel nature’s presence. All we have to do is find a spot that feels right, sit, and let nature come to us. After half an hour, the birds and animals will set their caution aside, and resume what they were doing, and we can watch them go about their daily lives.

We can also hike on and on without stopping until our senses go on overload and we go numb with the onslaught of amazing image after image.

I often have a problem when I go hiking because I want to see everything, and I’ll plan a hike to include as many scenic spots and destinations as I can fit in and get back to camp just as darkness if falling. This means that I don’t leave any wiggle room to linger at places that I didn’t know existed. If I’ve hiked up into the highlands from the valley floor, there aren’t any shortcuts home. If I’m halfway though a hike when I want to make a change, it’s either 7 hours back or 7 hours on to complete the hike. Once I reach the halfway point, I don’t have time to explore a new waterfall.

I’ve learned quite a bit from the rock climbers I camp with, like the need to take calculated risks now and then. Most of them don’t value speed climbers, those who use a stopwatch to see how fast they can get up the face of El Capitan. My friends like the art of climbing, and to them speed climbing is just a stunt. In my early days of hiking in Yosemite, I also delighted in seeing how fast I could hike somewhere, keeping time to see if I could beat my previous record. It told me what kind of physical shape I was in, but I could not tell you anything about the red flowering something that I saw on the hillside by Nevada bridge. I couldn’t tell you if they were flowers or tiny colored leaves. Since then I’ve learned the value of slowing down.

Once I hiked to the top of Yosemite Falls, crossed over the bridge, and was following the trail along the edge of the canyon towards North Dome. The plan was to have lunch there, wave at the people on the top of Half Dome across the valley, and come back down in time for a late dinner. But soon after crossing over Yosemite Creek and passing the Lost Arrow, I saw a vista along the rim that I had never seen before. So I sat down, and it was delightful. I stayed there and watched the valley for a couple of hours before hiking back. I was so proud of myself.

When I hike, I like to feel my way, sitting when I feel like sitting, and exploring little creeks cascading down then they appear. I want my relationships to be spontaneous, not planned out for the next decade. I want to do work that nurtures me as much as I nurture it. I don’t want to get to the end of life and realize that I haven’t lived at all, just reached destinations. I want people to be sad, really sad, when I die, and not just cross my name off their Christmas card list.

Nature meets us where we are, and encourages us to go further into our thoughts and feelings. Nature brings us new mysteries and realities to ponder.

When we listen to nature, we hear the wilderness within respond.