Tent or tarp? Quilt or sleeping bag? Down puffy or synthetic puffy?
These questions of equipment tend to vex backpackers and often lead to lengthy discussions. After the fourth or fifth time reading these discussions (or, against my better judgment, actually participating in them) I’ve found that they’re almost painfully boring. I’ve found that the question of which experience to have – hiking a new trail or returning to an old favorite – is a much more interesting quandary to reflect upon. Thinking about how to use the limited time we have to spend in undeveloped landscapes is much more fulfilling than simply pondering another product to buy.
I’m an incorrigible Returner. Although I did venture to a handful of new places in 2020, I found myself returning to no less than a dozen trails I’d previously backpacked on. In one particularly odd instance, I hiked up to a subalpine basin filled with golden larch for an overnight trip with my friend Doug. I then returned the next day with my girlfriend, Andrea, to share the majestic experience with her on a separate overnight trip. I felt a bit self-conscious that the squirrels might notice me and say to each other, “This guy, again?”
Some of my repetition is borne of convenience. For one subalpine lake that I visited twice last year, once in August and once in October, the total time spent in transit – both hiking and driving – was just over two hours one-way from my house. With scenery and solitude (both times I had the lake to myself) that easy to obtain, and with my schedule sometimes more crunched than I’d like it to be, it makes perfect sense to go for the low-hanging, but exceedingly delicious, fruit rather than drive further and hike longer just to see a new place – then frustratingly have less time to spend there.
For another lake which I visited for the third time in five years, I was aiming to settle some unfinished business. My previous visits had all been when the lake was still too iced-up to provide good fishing. So I timed my third visit when I knew it would be melted out and I’d finally get a fair shake at matching wits with the “thriving cutthroat fishery” that the guidebook mentioned was present in its waters. I succeeded and caught some nice fish. Since snow wasn’t an issue, I was able to loop back cross-country and pass through a basin filled with lovely tarns and magnificent mountain views.
Other places draw me back because I find the familiarity to be deeply, almost primally, comforting. I recognize rocks, pools of water, and tiny pocket meadows and feel an affinity with them in a way that just isn’t possible when passing by them for the first time. Certain vistas, like the one from an abandoned fire lookout where I’ve spent over 20 nights the last few years, seem to allow me to gaze not just at the landscape but back at life itself as I contemplate the subtle – or drastic – seasonal changes before me and compare them with years past.
When going on a trip with other backpackers whose levels of expertise and ability differ from mine, I find that traipsing along on trails that I’m already familiar with offers a sense of comfort for all of us. I know the alternate campsites that we can stop at if we don’t reach the intended destination. I know which artificial flies usually guarantee strikes from hungry trout in mid-September. I know which shortcuts to take if we need to bail out on a trip early. It takes a bit of the stress of the unknown out of the trip which, if you’re just out there to relax in a beautiful place with friends who you don’t see nearly enough, is a lovely way to spend time. And it is almost always more enjoyable than frequently poring over a map and looking confusedly at junctions and worrying about making the miles to the next campsite.
As self-righteous as I might be about the benefits of revisiting old hikes and haunts, I must admit that I find myself inspired by those who constantly seek out new trails and spots on the map. My friend Doug is one of them. As an avid backpacker and the author of numerous guidebooks to hiking in the Pacific Northwest, Doug has hiked tens of thousands of miles – but he rarely hikes in the same place twice. His reasoning is simple – life’s short and he’d rather see new places than spend his time going back to places he’s already seen.
That’s a hard position to argue with, and while I agree in theory, I rarely seem to let it be my guiding principle when deciding where to go. I’ve never regretted going somewhere new instead of returning to an old favorite – but I’ve also never regretted the reverse of that either.
Humans tend to crave novelty and relish in the sense of experiencing the unknown or finally seeing in person the places we’ve read about online or seen in guidebooks. We are also undeniably creatures of habit. I’ve been lucky enough to have a life where I’ve been able to make backpacking a habit, not just a hobby I can only indulge in once or twice a year due to logistical, domestic, or financial barriers, and I suppose this habit is part of what leads me to return to the same places again and again.
However, there’s also a virtue in breaking, or at least bending, habits and expanding one’s horizons. There’s a wisdom in moderation, including when it applies to repetition. I’m planning to make a concerted effort to visit some new destinations in 2021, although I’ve also already got a handful of repeat trips on the calendar.
I’ve found the notion from Heraclitus that “you cannot step in the same river twice” rings true. Despite it being the same place, the experience is always different. Updated for the modern backpacker, it might be rephrased as “you can’t camp at the same lake twice.”
Related Content
- Mark mentions his love of fishing. Check out his recently published tenkara Gear List.
- And don’t forget to listen to our tenkara podcast episode.
- Got a favorite repeat trip or backcountry experience? Share it with us in the comments below.
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Discussion
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Companion forum thread to: Unpacked: Rewards of Repetition
Greek philosophy says you can’t step in the same river twice, but what about backpacking the same trail?
Ah, interesting thoughts. Every year I try to fish one or two new lakes, here in Colorado or elsewhere. As satisfying as that is, it is enjoyable to return to special places. They are the same, but they are not: the light is different, the animals might be different, the weather is rarely the same, the fish might be taking different lures or flies, and I am different. Same places, new things to be learned and experienced.
Sometimes having previous knowledge of a destination frees the mind and senses to appreciate it on a different level.
You were able to accomplish in a single sentence what I was trying to put my finger on that entire essay! For me, familiarity with a landscape seems to allow me to experience it more richly rather than being bored by it.
To me, wandering familiar trails is like getting to know someone better. I end up finding myself traveling deeper into the off trail areas and exploring the mental notes kept of things I couldn’t get to the last time
I see the hiking as the main joy, similar to running or cycling regular routes. I enjoy the sites, but usually the activity and the cameraderie are what do it for me (I’m usually not alone when hiking). A good trail is too good to only do once.
I’ve been engaged in this approach to my special area for 47 years and counting, and have never become bored. Each year I return at least once, sometimes with a companion, sometimes solo, on trail and off, spring, summer, and fall. With each trip the line between me and that unique ecosystem has become more and more blurred, to the point where I feel myself to be a part of it all, and it a part of me. As I posted in a similar thread recently, I see the relationship as analogous to getting to know one woman really well through years spent together, as opposed to a series of one night stands. Both have their advocates, but this is what has worked for me.
Mark, thanks for writing this.
I also like returning to the same area again and again. I’ve learned to appreciate the previously un-noticed, or the changes since last time or in a different season, or the familiarity the lets me relax and observe and mind-wander more. And I can mix it up a little by camping in different spots, or taking alternate routes.
On the other hand, I have a list of trips in new places I hope to get to … someday. Plus there’s a peculiar part of human nature where the dreams can exceed the reality, and sometimes we cling to the dreams rather than risking messy reality.
Some of my favorite places are not that “spectacular.” I find it odd when someone says “such-and-such is so much better.” I guess it depends on what you are seeking.
Over the years, a few of those areas got “discovered,” which is happening far more frequently thanks to social media. Sometimes I move my trips to less desirable times, or give up on the locale entirely. That can make me sad, but it also spurs me to try new, hopefully more obscure areas.
And many of my return-to places were swept by wildfire in 2020. Will be even more interesting when I return, which might not be for several years in some locations.
— Rex
Thankfully most people are unwilling to hike in more than a few miles, and by and large the ones I meet when hiking further in than a few miles are people I don’t mind camping near (for the most part). Just another new experience even if it is in a familiar place.
As I move past three quarters of a century in age, I have found safety in hiking familiar trails hiked on older legs. I never tire of seeing the changing seasons in familiar woods, and I always see things I haven’t seen before. I generally hike alone and there is a comfort in knowing where the slippery roots are located on the trails. Each time I return from days in the woods, I generally think, next time through here I need to spend more time listening to the owls and the coyotes and seeing which trees have fallen since the last storm. This past trip, the coyotes weren’t as vocal. Was it a rough winter?
I’m also a fan of familiarity = deeper experience.
I like putting time into the equation and have a favorite backcountry spot that I visit at the same time in early spring. Seeing it year after year at the same date is particularly gratifying.
And, of course, new places are great too!
I do this as well, there are several places that I find to be particularly idyllic at certain times of the year and it’s nice to visit them around the same time multiple years in a row. I also enjoy visiting the same place at different times of year as well and seeing how different it can look.
In Europe we’re usually walking above the treeline with expansive views and skyscapes.
And much of the magic is climbing into this ever-changing light.
Here in the Lake District we enjoy great sweeps of peaks and crags and waterfalls and tarns and lakes and rivers and woods and sea and islands – each reacting in their own way as the light changes.
We see them on cloudless days and on cloudy days, in rain, snow and storm, at dawn and at sunset and in moonlight. We watch the shadows of towering showers sweeping across the moors and sudden shafts of sunlight picking out a distant tarn.
Enjoy a walk a hundred times or a thousand times and it will never be the same. It’s familiar but different, and the relationship only deepens with repetition.
We live on a wonderful planet. Let’s hope we get better at looking after it…
Repetition is great for that last-minute call, “It’s 3pm on a Saturday, weather’s good, I have no plans but work at 8am Monday”. Last month did just that, carrying an injury, a bit slower than last time so realised I wasn’t going to make the tent platform at the ‘official’ campsite. Hate walking by head torch, too risky on the ankles.
Had a gorgeous Milky Way view from a hilltop bivvy site, knew the one-night weather forecast was fine for a very exposed area, and that the trees around the main campsite would have blocked the best view.
Next morning leisurely breakfast in my sleeping bag as the sun rose, pleasant 3 hr stroll, and morning tea at a little waterfront cafe I’ve often driven past when it was shut after a longer day’s walk. You can always get some new enjoyment from a regular walk area, and the familiarity makes it easier than planning a new route.
Favourite bit apart from the star view? Cobwebs! Walking a familiar area at 7am, the dew beading on the silk in the sunrise was a miniature masterpiece. I’d never seen that in mid morning or late afternoon sun, when I usually walk that section. iPhone photos didn’t do it justice, I’ll go back with the SLR and macro lens – which is something else I don’t carry on a new walk, only when I’m sure I’ll get my value for effort.
This was a great article and one that really resonated with me. I am a serial repeater of trails as well, though I also try to make it somewhere new every season. There are a few trails that I could do over and over again and never get tired of them. The top of that list is Sundance pass in the Beartooth mountains. I enjoy your articles and find it very interesting that I also moved to Montana in 2014, but from Ohio. Cheers.
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