Early cluelessness of my access to backpacking
Sharing the story of how I became interested in backpacking involves an ah-ha moment. A lightbulb that lit inside my brain and guided the path of possibilities that unraveled. I am almost ashamed that this moment took so long to occur. And because of this feeling of being late to the party— what can I say, my childhood tendency for FOMO rears its head in adult life now and then— I approached the endeavor with full force. This was not always a good thing, of course. It came with its share of drawbacks. But those are stories for another day. For now, let’s stick to the story of how I went from day hiker to backpacker.
Several years ago, I was at a point in my life where the itch to try something new was burning. The areas within a 50-mile (80.5km) radius of my house became exhausted. So, naturally, I expanded my radius outward, finding myself wherever my car (or a cheap flight) could take me. At this time, I had a vague understanding of backpacking. Living near the Appalachian Trail, I encountered evidence of backpackers’ existence throughout my hikes. Yet, for some odd reason, I looked at the activity as something forbidden to me. Something reserved for the select few. Not to mention, I often associated backpacking with tourists heaving heavy packs, going from hostel to hostel, city to city. I am bewildered to recall a time when I possessed these misconceptions about backpacking.
The catalyst that got the ball rolling
So here I am, someone obsessed with nature and a blazing wanderlust. Since I compartmentalized backpacking into an area of my brain that was unattainable, I limited myself to day hikes. From dawn to dusk, I would traipse through the forests, covering as much ground as the sun would allow. There were times I had to night hike, and I would think to myself, too bad there isn’t a way to stay overnight. I cannot help but laugh when I recall these moments. I knew what backpacking was, but at the same time, I did not. And I did not see myself as one of them. Why I felt this way, I cannot say. Perhaps I felt intimidated or had no idea where to begin. Or, perhaps I did not have enough room in my life to fit in a new hobby.
Whatever it was that kept me from pursuing backpacking was conquered several years ago. During a trip to Colorado, I was on the way to Estes Park with my sister. I was sharing about a recent hike and my wish to have spent more time at the park. After mentioning the 2-hour drive that prevented me from returning the next day, she asked me why I didn’t just backpack. At this question, that lightbulb, the ah-ha moment happened. Suddenly, the possibility of spending more time in nature opened up before my eyes. The gap that I created between myself and backpacking was bridged. The remainder of this trip solidified that I ought to try it out. Between the hikes, wildlife watching, and impromptu camping, I was utterly addicted to being immersed in nature for days at a time.
Hiking + Camping = Backpacking
Upon returning from this family visit, I was sold on the prospect of backpacking. I spent hours scouring the internet for information and opinions. Trialing various types of backpacks and sleep systems to find what worked. Collecting totems of wisdom with each adventure and misadventure— especially on those misadventures. The experience I had with both camping and hiking helped the transition into backpacking. Setting up a tent, following a route, and scrambling over rocks were not foreign concepts to me. The idea of carrying everything on my back, starting and ending each day on the trail, was unknown.
There is a sense of security when day hiking that is missing when backpacking. Wish I had brought an extra snack? Oh well, the car is less than a mile away with an apple waiting in the cooler. My shoes are wet, but I can change into my driving moccasins in no time. Yet with backpacking, this peace of mind does not exist. If I am 10 miles into the trail and realize I forgot something, I either have to be resourceful with what I have or bail out early. What I carry on my back is what I will carry for the duration of the trip, so the pressure to pack wisely is felt. Understanding what to pack was a process of trial and error (read here to learn about what typically goes in my pack). There were trips where I overpacked, such as the time I overpacked on the Appalachian Trail. On others, I overcorrected and did not pack enough. But just as Goldilocks eventually found what was just right, I eventually found my groove.
Closing thoughts
My journey of becoming a backpacker involves some embarrassing stories. If I could go back with the knowledge that I have now, I would choose differently. Unfortunately, there is no TARDIS to transport me into the past. Fortunately, the next best thing is to learn from mistakes. These blundered experiences carry more than regret— they are references to draw from for future decisions. Just as it took time to get out of the mindset that I was not meant to backpack, adapting to the demands of backpacking had its learning curve. As wild as this journey has seemed at times, I could not be more thankful for the opportunities it has afforded me. It has enhanced the relationship I have been developing with myself, as well as my connection to and appreciation for nature. I am forever grateful for that ah-ha moment I had on that trip to Colorado several years back. And for the willingness to dive into something new and daunting. Cheers to many more adventures.
Share your story below of how you became interested in outdoor adventures
Happy Trails!
