Hiking Alone [matt]

I was raised with the distinct purpose of loving God and mountains. It has always been typical in my family to get a roll of film developed only to discover that at least half of the photos are of Mount Rainier. My family is a family of mountain people.

Adulthood came suddenly, and I realized that I was in a new place with a new mountain; Mount Baker. The issue for me in all of this was that I had a great new mountain to explore, but nobody to join me in my adventures. Sure, there were plenty of people who told me they wanted to go hiking, but few ever seemed to be able to go when I could. So for a long time, I just didn’t go. Instead, I sat at home and twitched like an addict in need of a fix. Finally I cracked. I became a solitary hiker.

Hiking alone is an adventure of its own kind. Finding roads and trails can be an exciting experience in themselves; I have no navigator or second opinion. During the hike, I have nobody to keep pace with, which usually means I spend too much time stopping to admire views, or go too quickly up trails where I could be enjoying the journey. I usually overdo it, going too far and coming home with severe back pain that leaves me bent over in pain for days. And of course there’s the wildlife. One year ago I found myself on the Skyline Divide ridge trail, staring at a black bear. Alone with a bear. There’s really no words for the feeling that arose within me. For the rest of the day, I walked with fear and trembling.

The grandeur of the North Cascades makes this the most beautiful place on the earth, in my opinion. I still invite people into the hills with me, but do love the experience of hiking alone. Standing at the base of Mt. Baker, as I did three days ago, is something that changes you. To stare at this behemoth volcano, with mountain goats literally all around and glaciers on my left and right, is to to glimpse the ineffable. What can you say in the face of such a thing? What can you think? The mind reels, tired legs wobble and my lungs gasp from awe and the crispness of thin air.

No wonder Moses, also a solitary hiker, kept looking for God on the mountaintop. No wonder he chose to look out over the Promised land, and ultimately die, while atop Mount Pigsah.

What better place could he have chosen?

A few years ago Robert Putnam wrote Bowling Alone, a sociological lament over the American lack of community. It is a realization that community events are disappearing from the Western landscape, being replaced by solitary activity (or no activity at all). As someone who agrees and mourns this loss with Putnam, I feel more than a little hypocritical moving again and again into the mountains, with my only companion being a book and a camera. But to be honest, this probably will not be changing for me. I will continue to hike alone.

Why?

For the first time in my life I have stumbled into a spiritual discipline that works in my life; pilgrimage. When I go into the mountains, I find what Robert Brancatelli calls “unmediated contact with the sacred.” I see, hear, feel, touch and smell God. No, I do not believe Nature is God. But I believe God is in and with his creation. The Spirit of Life is moving in the mountains and I want to be in His/Her presence. Yes, God is just as present elsewhere, but sometimes I need to get away to hear Him and have Him remind me of this fact. Paying parking fees, braving bear attacks, getting lost on forest roads; it’s worth it for a moment of peace with the Lord. I invite you to do the same.

I hike alone because that is when I can begin to grasp that I am not alone.