Trail Lessons

We usually think of “learning” as knowledge acquired through words, spoken or written. But learning comes in many forms. One category of my learning I call “trail lessons.” These lessons were learned by my body while walking. The more one walks, the more these lessons become part of one. If one is full of energy and unburdened, one’s steps can dance willy-nilly wherever. But if I am carrying a heavy load or I am nearing the end of a long day, then I begin paying attention to trying to conserve energy with every step. One of the first examples of conserving energy is stepping over a fallen log rather than stepping up onto it (raising one’s body and pack up several feet) and then stepping down onto the other side. A second parallel but opposite example happens when crossing a small gully. My body learns to step across the very bottom of the gully rather than stepping on the bottom and lowering my weight a few unnecessary inches. Don’t gain elevation unnecessarily. Don’t lose elevation unnecessarily. The placement of feet was my first teacher of this lesson.

I remember one of my first backpack trips. I was in the Boy Scouts and my pack felt heavy and the trail up to a mountain meadow seemed so long. I was the tired kid at the back of the line wanting to stop for whatever excuse seemed plausible. I can remember rejoicing each time the trail went downhill because it gave me a chance to rest. I yearned for downhill stretches. I lacked the big picture. Because, if one is going to hike uphill to a certain place, then the most efficient way to do it is with a steady grade. Any downhill stretch means the trail will have to make it up again sometime soon. That stretch of elevation gain will have to be climbed twice. The distance consumed in dropping down and climbing back up means that there is less remaining mileage to make the remaining climb so the trail ahead must be steeper as a result of that downhill stretch. I learn to appreciate a trail that keeps a steady grade and respect its makers. Walking develops this image of an effort larger than the immediate moment.

A different example of learning about long term – short term: Mountain mornings are often cold and crisp. I wear a hat and warm jacket as I pack camp. When everything is packed, I sling on the pack and start hiking. Within five minutes, my body is sweating and uncomfortable. I have to stop (letting the muscles cool down again), take off my pack, open it up, take off my coat and hat, pack them away, close up the pack, put it back on, and start hiking again. Eventually I learned to do it differently. I pack my pack but leave it open. When I am ready to start hiking, the jacket and hat come off and go into the pack. I feel cold though in an exhilarated way. It is bearable because I know that I will be warm shortly. Besides, the touch of cold gets the body starting to pump blood more vigorously. The pack is closed and put on. A minute after the coat is off, I am hiking and within a minute of that, the chill is gone. The warm up proceeds smoothly and I am off on a vigorous morning with no need to stop and repack the pack. The difference between these two beginnings is analogous to short term-long term. In the second approach, I initiate a minute of discomfort in order to avoid a much greater bother in the future. This awareness transforms what was formerly experienced as discomfort into exhilaration. On the other hand, the first approach puts off dealing with the bigger picture for short-term warmth. As a consequence, I end up expending far more energy eventually.