At the risk of sounding immodest, I hike a lot.

Like, a lot. I love it. I think about trails constantly. At this moment, I’m thinking about my next outing. While you’re reading this, I’m probably out there, somewhere, amongst mountains and trees and rocks and wild things. Maybe even a coastline. It’s exhilarating and frightening and calming and exciting all at once.

Some of my earliest memories involve my dad, my brother, and at whatever point my sister entered the picture, hiking a small part of Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield Park. I remember going there with my dad in his old Chevy Beretta and having to cross a creek by way of crawling across, carefully, a fallen tree trunk. Being there, in the heat or the cold, in the trees or the fields, incited the same feelings in me then as they do today.

Now, obviously, I haven’t been around the world yet. I haven’t trekked through the Alps or seen Mount Everest or felt the wind on the cliffs of Scotland or the wind sweeping across dunes in Namibia. But that’s alright! They are my soon to be adventures! And besides, I wouldn’t be writing this if my adventures up to this point hadn’t yielded some tales that led me to believe what I believe about this subject. So here’s my first thought.

Here in America, at least, I think the notion of being at peace in the middle of the woods is still as romantically prevalent as it was in the days of Thoreau or Muir. Escapism seems to be the root of that idea. Escape from a metropolis of technology and social media and twenty-four hour news streams. Escape from social pressures or noise or personal problems. I get that completely. But the problem is, from my observation, that idea remains romantic in peoples’ minds. It never indeed manifests into something real.

When I go off, usually by myself, I will do everything short of turning my phone off. Every single news app, social app, automotive app I have that will make noise or be a distraction is silenced so as not to disrupt the quiet or my own reverie. I recall a trip to the Smokies where, while hiking a section of the park called Newfound Gap, I passed by two guests (unsuitably dressed for a day in the woods at the end of July in the south) who seemed distressed. And then I heard the man say, dramatically, “I never get service in these places.” In the middle of the woods. Five thousand feet above sea level. And where the views and trails are as beautiful as roses and Elizabeth Olsen.

Shaking my head.

And here’s my second thought.

It seems that the romantic notion of leaving problems in the city for the day and escaping to the country or the mountains or the beach leaves room for other problems to creep up. Like impatience. Or annoyance. Or, the ever-so-classic, instant gratification. These mentalities I see exhibit themselves in hotspot places. A lot.

Storytime. Again, in the Smokies.

Clingman’s Dome is as heard of as Dolly Parton if I’m correct. People come far and wide to take in those awesome views. I’ve only been one time and, in complete contrast with my visits to the better location of Mount Mitchell, it gets swamped with visitors. My first dedicated day in the park yielded stormy conditions that brought rain and dense clouds to the higher elevations and spoiled the sweeping mountain vistas. But dangit, I came to hike the approach trail up the mountain, and I did. In the rain. Marveling at the wind and the clouds and the moody atmosphere.

The second day, I again headed towards Clingman’s Dome because I did want to take in those sweet mountains (I am human after all). Whereas the previous day’s adventure up to the mountain was accompanied by a single white sedan and spitting rain in the parking lot, this day’s adventure began with sunshine and a forty-five-minute stop-and-go-a-palooza of traffic waiting to park. The only way I was able to park was because I wasn’t afraid to tackle a parallel parking maneuver.

Now, between the parking lot and the actual tower on the top of the ridge, there is a moderately strenuous and paved half-mile hike up. Everything is spectacular on the journey! The trees are tall, and the mountain air is relentless. Colorful wildflowers dot the landscape. And the people populate the place like ants populate a discarded sour patch kid.

The things I heard; they seem unbelievable to me but, then again, I enjoy the hike. “You mean, we’re not, like, there already?”; “Are you kidding, we have to walk up to it?”; “This better be worth it.”; and, my personal favorite, “Why is it all uphill?!”

But this isn’t all. Oh no.

Whereas the sun was shining down on the lower side of the parking lot, weather was shrouding the structure on top of the dome. You know, how nature does sometimes. “Seriously. We hiked up all that way for nothing?” and “Wow, this sucks.” and also “This isn’t worth it.”

Shaking my head.

Not only were there times where the fog lifted and the clouds parted like a curtain on Broadway revealing gorgeous ridges and modest mountains and valley lakes, but the entire hike up the mountain yielded the exact same kinds of views and flowers and trees and, yes, wildlife (Turkeys were everywhere, surprisingly) that would have been seen atop the actual structure!

And this is how it is distinguishable between someone who hikes for the joy of being in nature and someone who hikes for one specific reward I feel (or maybe just a new profile picture): a grand view. Someone who joyously hikes I think notices the little things: the way the air smells, the thickness of tree trunks, the variety in the shades of purple on the wildflower petals, and the simple ease of letting hours waste away while sitting opposite a gap in the mountains. Someone who hikes for one, magnificent vista will perhaps walk away excruciatingly tired, annoyed, and unfulfilled if desires aren’t met in mere seconds of showing effort.

Obviously, not everyone is like this. I still bring my camera with me wherever I go. But I increasingly witness more mindless experiences like those above whenever I visit someplace new.

So, in an honest attempt, I urge whoever might fit into the latter category to number one: assess their motivations for wanting to embark on a journey into whatever natural space that’s in front of them. Is it for joy or a picture? Number two: actually disconnect from the world. Bring a book, an eno, or both. Find a spot. And sit awhile. Observe, listen, breathe. And number three: find a piece in the landscape, whether that be a tree or an animal or cliff or curve of a mountain, and let that guide you if the trail gets tough or you lose drive. I personally look for a tree that I say, out loud, “I would take this one home with me.” And I have to find that one tree every time I go out.

So, for the love of trees, enjoy the outdoors. Leave the complaints behind. And be.

…

Ramin Karimloo—Coming Home

Hugh Jackman, The Greatest Showman Ensemble—From Now On

The Paper Kites—Featherstone

Elephant Revival—Ring Around the Moon

The Tallest Man On Earth—Sagres

Lord Huron—Wait by the River

The Bones of J.R. Jones—Know My Name