A Hike of Ones Own

Reflections on Solo Hikes in the Olympic National Park

I love hiking with other people. I need someone there to ask "What's that?" or exclaim "Would you

look at that?" Some of the best intimate conversations happen on a hike when you're out past the real world and able to get a little distance. There's something about sharing the splendor of a view or the sighting of a bird or flower. But... when I'm hiking with others I find the tendency to compare myself difficult to avoid.

Yoga used to be like that, but I've managed to find my own center and love myself through those imperfect downward facing dogs. With hiking, there's no way of avoiding the fact the some are faster, some slower, some in better cardiovascular shape and some still building up that lung capacity. And it's hard to just be in the moment and move at my own pace, because there's always the knowledge that I'm slowing (typically) someone up.

Thursday and Friday (July 7 & 8) I hiked alone through the moist, green, cool abundance of the woods in Olympic National Park. There was no pace, no time schedule, no destination, no measuring of myself against someone else. I walked/hiked at the rate that worked for me, not even thinking about fast or slow. The breathing was easy, the uphills were enjoyable, I went until I was ready to turn around, or maybe a little further.

There's a metaphor here. Something about the process of finding ones own way to the point where it sticks even when in conjunction with other people. It's not a matter of getting better to match others' pace or ability. It's that same 'loving myself through' the discomfort. Being okay with being imperfect. Allowing myself to let others down (in whatever crazy way) by just being who I am.

For these days ahead I am so happy to be hiking on my own to really feel myself in these woods and paths of the US and Canada. I look forward to others joining me, and I hope in time I can let go of the comparison that gets in the way of the pleasure. And we'll see what evolves with that lung capacity...

As an aside, for all my conservationist sentiments, the straight, huge, amazing evergreens in these woods scream out to me: "2x6s". I think of my lumber-people friends, Tim, Gem, Jill, Dylan, Ben, Hubs and Russel and I think you would all be drooling at these trees. I have sympathy for the loggers... along with the wildlife and environment.