Why we Hike . . . · Nov 3, 11:14 am by Jennifer Pharr
Why thru-hike?
Why endure physical pain, mental fatigue, and emotional anxiety to live a life that offers no monetary reward and little societal recognition? What is found in this journey that makes leaving fresh food, warm homes, valued paychecks, supportive friends, and a loving family worth six months of separation?
How do you justify it?
And when, when, is such a journey worth the sacrifice?
These are the questions that go through the mind of almost every thru-hiker that has completed, attempted, or even started a long distance trail. These are also the questions of many who, still at home, try to understand the motivation and meaning behind such individual journeys.
When provoked, every hiker will attempt to answer these questions with seemingly unique, yet fundamentally, similar answers. For, in the end, it’s not so much the questions or conclusions that matter, but rather the search for answers. It is an empirical search that stems from a call to explore, to discover, and to live in a manner that the majority of society cannot understand. And it is a search that has left me both deeply appreciative and bereft.
Thinking back to the beginning of the trail, there are several reasons I wanted to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. I remember this time last year thinking and daydreaming about the trail, a process that would almost always cause an immediate stomach upheaval. It was a churning, butterfly-filled, adrenaline rush that connotes the rush of a roller-coaster all while my physical presence remained completely stoic. This rush, as ridiculous as it may sound, was one of the main reasons I knew I had to hike the trail. It seemed the sensation in my stomach was a conglomeration of fear, hope, doubt, and wonderment that placed the PCT in a perfectly frightening, yet seemingly attainable, distance from my personal comfort zone.
And certainly, the PCT offered and then provided a challenge that pushed, stretched, and probed my limits while somehow graciously leaving me unbroken. However, it also promised to restore something I had lost since coming off the Appalachian Trail. The PCT promised to restore a sense of blessing and appreciation in my life. I never imagined after hiking the AT that I would re-acclimatize back into society as quickly as I did. Still, two weeks after climbing Katahdin, showers had suddenly lost their novelty, warm-filling meals were commonplace, and shelter was expected. I once again felt entitled. And I hated it.
And while the former two reasons were good for coffee dates and genuine conversation, my desire to take time off work for travel and aspirations to fundraise for Women Build provided sufficient one-line retorts to passing questions and rounded-out my fourfold justification for heading to the West Coast.
Once on the trail my reasons soon evolved and I found my motivation for daily hiking derived from unexpected sources. One would hardly ever pin self-doubt as a reason to thru-hike. It simply seems counter-intuitive. Nevertheless, from day one it provided constant incentive to carry on. I cannot recall one day of full confidence, instead it was a constant journey of struggling against the elements and myself. Do I have enough water? Do I feel okay? Did I bring enough food? Am I okay alone? Are the animals going to bother me? Can I make it to my next checkpoint? Will I be okay at high elevations? Is this section too dangerous? Do I belong out here?
In every circumstance, no matter what convention might otherwise say, I had to keep the demons at bay and tell myself I could do it, I did belong, and yes, it would all be okay. And, thankfully, for the most part by the time I went to bed it would be okay. In fact, I started to thrive on the fact that I was challenged everyday; I loved that at one, if not multiple, points throughout the day I would seriously consider my purpose, competence, and environment. It wasn’t about winning or immediately conquering the fear, rather I enjoyed seeing it through, sticking with it, and putting it to rest when safely on the other side. Each instance provided faith, confidence, and hope to take into the ensuing day.
I also began to indulge in the simplicity and focus of a thru-hike. The task was simple, the means were modest, and everything I owned I carried on my back. Coming from a world of Blackberries and multi-tasking, it was so refreshing to focus on one objective while being accountable almost entirely to yourself. Furthermore, the pace seemed somehow soothing if not cathartic. Don’t get me wrong, thru-hiking is hard work—30 miles a day doesn’t come easy. But it’s not a sprint, and it’s not rushed, it’s a constant level of exertion, which over an extended period of time can ultimately bring you to a distant goal. It is ironic how my days of constant movement often seemed far less hurried and contrived than a day of sitting still in an office. It was liberating to lose track of the days and hours and observe the passing of time through light, temperature, and changes in nature.
And finally, as in almost every other aspect of life, I found reason to be and stay on the trail due to the rewards. It goes against human nature to work for free, and while it’s not always monetary, people hardly ever give something for nothing. It’s no different on the trail. I worked, I suffered, I gave my literal blood, sweat, and tears to the trail and I wanted something in return. The exciting part is that you hardly ever know what form your payment will come in. Sometimes you will be reimbursed through views or rainbows, sometimes it will be seeing a bear or spotting an eagle, other times it will be encountering a friendly hiker or making new friends by hitching into town. It could be a starry night or a pristine lake, the feeling of solitude, or an encouraging note sent by a friend. It might be the novelty of eating everything in sight and still losing weight or being able to visit new cities along the way, but no matter the form, there will always be times when the trail convinces you that you are absolutely the richest person in the world.
Lastly, at the end of my journey I found one final and incredible reason to thru-hike. So rarely in life do we have the opportunity to pursue the perfect completion of something that seems otherwise unattainable? Thru-hiking is not easy by any stretch of the imagination. It is the hardest, most arduous challenge I have ever faced. And it is the physical accomplishment that I am the most proud of in life. To be able to take five months and pursue your dreams, push your limits, and ultimately accomplish an all-encompassing goal is a feeling unlike any other. To reach Canada and then go all the way back to Oregon to finish the one section I had missed due to fire in order to know that I had walked every step the entire way from Mexico to Canada was entirely worth it. I had given everything over to a dream, and looking back, I know that my dream was realized in its most perfect and fulfilling form.
So yeah, there are good reasons to thru-hike, but there are also strong motives to stay at home. Not having finances, gear, food, or support would have severely hampered my journey. But thankfully due to some amazing sponsors, I was able to pursue and accomplish my dream!
Thank you so much to Blue Ridge Mountain Sports, Whole Foods, and Balance Bar. Your respective gear, food, and monetary donations made this hike possible and much more enjoyable than it otherwise might have been. It was such an honor to receive support from these organizations because beyond my temporary hiking needs, they are all businesses that I believe in and look forward to supporting in the future.
I also want to give a huge shout out to Women Build and Habitat in general. Habitat for Humanity has done so much for Charlottesville and other communities in the US and around the world. Their dedication to helping people and communities inspired me daily while on the trail, and even during the hard times gave me reason to continue hiking. So to all those who work, volunteer, or donate to Habitat for Humanity. . . Thank You So Much!!!
Now a big thank you to Dorothy, one of my co-workers, who diligently sent out all of my food, gear, and guidebook boxes to stops along the trail. Because of her, I never had to worry about missing a re-supply. Thanks to all those at Ash Lawn, especially to the office staff that helped to cover in my absence.
Finally, thanks to my friends and family and all those who kept me in their thoughts and prayers. Your support meant the world to me and gave me reason to keep going and something to come back to. I love you all and look forward to supporting each and every one of you in your future adventures.
Until the next hike . . .
All the best,
Jennifer Pharr
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