Why do you go backpacking

Why eat? Why breathe? Why work? So you can backpack, of course.

I am a city person at heart. But I backpack because I also want to see the world that lies beyond the radius of a town or a highway.

I wrote something about running last year. I think the philosophy in it applies to backpacking, too.

Enjoy:

"I never once pounded the pavement. I spent the second decade of my life resigned to short walks by a vein malformation in my foot. I went on my first run at 22 years old, on a snowy evening in January. I whispered at the pavement, walking with cat feet to keep the pain down. Three foot surgeries later, and I was running my first mile.

Progress. Compulsion? I started going further, running one and a half miles to an empty graveyard and spinning a lap around the stone tablets and mausoleums before heading back with a slight limp. I kept training, and I kept getting better, and it kept hurting less. I spun my ankles, writing the alphabet with my toes while I sat in class, strengthening muscles I'd never used before, wearing minimalist footwear every second of every day to build up forgotten ligaments and tendons so I could keep running.

One year in. "Six-miles-over-the-mountain" becomes my run of choice, and I visit my running mecca religiously for the entire spring and summer, going faster and pausing less, sometimes not at all. I push ten miles during a warm evening in March. Nobody knows where I am. The darkness is pitch; I can't see the road, just a faint outline of the guardrail next to me and the sound of my own breath. No cell phone, no waist pack, no step counters or MP3's or compression sleeves or lights. Shoes and shorts. Running zen.
I'd never timed myself before, but I end up the runner for a 6-mile team triathlon race and get in at just over 44 minutes. I'm measured against runners with nothing holding them back because nothing holds me back anymore. For the first time since I was a child, I don't have a "bad foot." I feel like i've shed an anchor.

Two years in. I run sixteen sixteen sixteen miles at a quick cadence, no breaks, no destination, no water, finishing just as fast as I started. It's 22ºF. I climb two mountains and change towns three times before I get back. There's nowhere I can't run. I hike ten miles without thinking about it, because I've got running. Tell me there's something I can't do.

Running is all I want. I get on my bike while my ankles lose their soreness and keep building core, quadriceps, gastrocnemius, gluteus— even my shoulders are getting bigger. I'm still running cat-like, my form perfected and obsessed over with hours and days and months of watching the track team and Youtube videos, trying to float across the pavement.

I run because, once, I couldn't, and I'm never going back there. I plant my Size 10.5 left in front of my Size 8 right over and over and run from disability like an avalanche. There is no malformation anymore. I'm an athlete, goddarnit."

I'm due for another surgery now and I can't run, and I can't backpack longer than an overnight. But you know what? I keep on doing overnights. Last weekend, we hiked "The Hopper" on Mt. Greylock and had a blast, even though the temperature was around zero. Hopefully when I finish grad school work this semester, I'll have time for my fifth surgery, and then I can keep on backpacking.

To get away from all the over-complication and "noise" that is life these days, so that I may look inward without all the distraction. To put myself in uncomfortable situations to know where my weaknesses lie and in turn how to become stronger and/or better person.

KJ

To reboot

Sometimes I go out with a buddy of mine, we choose tough trails, push our bodies and though we're having fun and in our zone, you might not know it if you were looking at us – you probably won't find us smiling to often.

But when we get into our campsite, or setup for the night far beyond where our mileage goal had originally placed us, now that is something to be proud of. Out there, you have to earn everything; there are no shortcuts.

More often then not today I find myself in the woods with my girlfriend, and we like to keep things more leisurely paced, but still most of the same benefits apply.

To prepare how I think I'll most likely have to live when I retire.

I go back packing for several reasons:

-I love nature and the scenery. I stop and touch trees, rocks, ect.. along the way.
-It is an awesome getaway from pretty much all your problems. Unless you bring them with you.
Works way better than booze or drugs.
-Great exercise.
-The gear. Geeking out on items makes me happy. You know…..when find your site and you sit
down and pull out your stuff sack of…….
-The challenge of executing a 20-30 mile route that covers various ecosystems and elevations.
-The natural high I get when cruising along. Full on runners high for hours on in.
-Food and booze always taste better.

I could go on and on but those are the reasons that come to mind.

To be humbled by the raw beauty of nature that makes me yearn to see what next marvelous sight awaits me around the next bend in the trail, which serves to spur me on when my limbs are weary.

I was on a trip in Shenandoah in August 2013. It was morning in one of the less scenic stretches of park, and I had just finished getting a few hours of crappy sleep on an incline in a lousy campsite on what may or may not have actually turned out to be private property.

It was already hot and humid, and the trail was overgrown with nothing but a green tunnel as I walked up a steep trail, grunting and sweating and wondering what was going on at home, where I had showers, air conditioning and TV. "Why do I do this?" I asked myself.

The trail turned another corner near the top and the trees parted for a moment to show me sunrise's glow over the valley floor, with the trees rustling in a gentle breeze, and dewdrops sparkling on the grass around me. "This is why I do this."

I was down in the valley
Where the shadows are long
The birds in the harp tree
Were singing this song
There is time to deliver
Time to receive
All that you're lacking
Of whatever you need

Turn around – by the by
You'll still see the sea
As it was in the dawning
As it always will be
…
But where can a man go
That's sweet to his soul
When his time is not ready
But he's still turning old
Here's a dram for the piper
And a tune for his lady
Outside the thin wall
The waves are still raging

They said it well, hard to improve on it.

Sorry, I know this is the thread equivalent of "Squirrel!!" but…

Max, your left foot is 2.5 sizes larger than your right?

Anyway.

I can count the number of times I've felt totally at peace on one hand, and all of them have been on a trail.

What else am I supposed to do with my UL gear?

Scenary of undisturbed Nature and vistas of some sort, … being a part of it temporarily. I enjoy a bit of challenge but my UL gear in part is to get away from the crowds (= choice of campsite) without too much sweat.

"I was just wondering why you decide to go backpacking"

I backpack, therefore I am. ;o)

Max, sorry you have to go through all of that and hope any future surgeries go well ; ).

@Doug

So if you backpack to prepare for your retirement years….are you tell us that you are going to be homeless with the best gear a homeless guys has ever had? :)

Tony

"So if you backpack to prepare for your retirement years….are you tell us that you are going to be homeless with the best gear a homeless guys has ever had? :)"

Pretty much!

To see natural beauty I cannot see without putting in the work to see it. That work also has the side benefit of getting me away from most others — and those that are willing to do the work whom I encounter along the way are generally good folk. I also like the physical challenge.

Tribal Fires, The Mountains, Physical Challenge, Remoteness, I get in the ZONE when I am on mile 13 which means I get into very deep thoughts and it is very FUN!

To go home.

…

Have you ever walked into work after a great backpacking trip and everyone wonders why you have a $hit eating grin on your face? I have.

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