My first (and last) hike

This is from the end of the hike. You’ll have to read to see how I got there.

Both parts of the title are a lie. It wasn’t my first hike, and based on how it went, it might not be my last.

Today I decided to hike to a friend’s house on a hill because I was too stubborn to call an Uber. It was mainly uphill, a mile long, and a complete bitch to hike. But something told me it would be a good idea, even though I’m not an experienced hiker and have never really been enthusiastic about being out and sweaty in nature.

My starting point was a park. The grass was lush and people were picnicking, playing with dogs and relaxing. I started on the paved path, hoping it would take me past the park and onto the hiking trail.

Then I glanced at the map, and at the hiking trail off to the side of the manicured park, and felt a pang in my stomach. 

A couple minutes into walking along the dirt path, I wanted to give up and turn back. I had my phone in my hand and was ready to ask my friend to pick me up. I only passed two people on my way, and they were both on their way down. As a chronic quitter, I wanted to take this as a sign that the hike was too hard and I was going in the wrong direction.

And then I reached a flat point and looked at where I made it. I looked around and saw houses on the hills, people playing in the park below, and rows and rows of wildflowers ahead. I sat for a bit and drank my water. Then I dared to look forward, and the trail was lined by yellow blooms on either side. I pressed onward.

Because I was on my own, I didn’t have anyone to judge myself against. So I went at my own pace. I motivated myself with the reminder that if I really hated the hike, I would never have to do it again.

There were points where I was on my knees, sliding on my butt, getting scratched, holding onto a plant for dear life – but there was always a point to stop and rest. 

And then I faced an uphill path. My phone told me this was the way to go, and I tried to climb it but physically found myself unable to. For reference, I’m 5’ tall, so basically anything above my eye level is a mountainous cliff.

I breathed. I looked and there was a path off to the side that looked reasonable, so I checked the map and saw that I could go up this way and simply go around. I allowed myself to take this longer, gentler way, rather than risk the uphill battle.

At one point I realized, with no access to the main street in sight, I had no choice but to move forward.

Further down the trail, I faced another uphill challenge. This time, I didn’t hesitate to take the easier route. I wound around the hill, sure there was an outlet that would nudge me back in the right direction. The more I walked, the more treacherous this path seemed. It was narrower, and I couldn’t help but notice how close it was to dangerous edges.

And then my GPS lost its signal. Unable to navigate and reroute myself, I turned back to this second uphill path. I took a deep breath. Where normally I would’ve said an affirmation or briefly meditated, I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

I didn’t look ahead, I didn’t look back – I just moved. And I found myself at the top.

The view sitting at the bench

I saw a bench and realized I had been there before, on a shorter hike I had taken with a friend coming from the opposite direction I was on now. I stopped to drink water and marvel at the view. Greens so bright from the sunshine they looked fake. A pale blue sky with clouds like tufts of cotton. 

But I knew I couldn’t stay in one place for too long, or my fatigue would catch up to me. So I put my water bottle and phone back in my bag and kept going.

When I had reached a flatter area, I remembered how much I love to press flowers. I started picking at the ground and creating a tiny bouquet for myself. The more I moved forward, the more colors appeared before me. Bright yellows, deep purples, stark whites. Breezes blew and knocked some stems out of my hand, as if to tell me I had taken enough from the earth.

Then I reached a clearing and finally saw the residential neighborhood. I was so close and had made it so far that I started laughing. I practically skipped toward the street and emerged between a couple large houses. Then, the GPS told me to turn around. 

The end, as it turned out, was not in sight. But check out that mini bouquet!

I checked the map and found that I had left the trail too early; the street I needed to be on was off a smaller path. I bargained with my phone, for surely the way on the paved road was easier. I saw that it did not intersect with the street I needed to be on and winded down the opposite direction even more. So I turned back, away from the houses and familiar sights, and conceded to nature.

I pushed aside the ever-growing temptation to be lazy and found the path I needed to take. It was downhill and rocky. Carefully sidestepping on my way down, I thought about how often I’ve had to reorient myself in a different direction in order to move forward.

Further down, the path was obscured by strong winds that had knocked the greenery over on its side. I remembered the map showing me I basically had to walk through bushes. Walking through them, I realized that the unusual rains we’ve been having brought these blooms. In another season, perhaps even next spring, they might not be there anymore. 

On I went, and (faster than I thought I would), I reached another outlet back into the street. I found myself laughing again. Only a few hundred more feet, my phone chimed. I passed two pickup trucks and was startled back into civilization. 

Up the street I went, texting my friend I was a few minutes away. I told them I had hiked, and we were both in shock.

OK I knew I could’ve just asked them to, but some otherworldly power told me to go into nature, remember?

I finally got to their street and saw the house. My destination. While waiting for my friend to open the door, their neighbor, sat on the curb smoking, said hello.

“Are you trying to find something?” he asked.

“Just waiting,” I said.