There are moments on almost every hike where the question isn’t “can I keep going?”, it’s “should I?” or “how can I?”.
That moment hit again last weekend during our annual Spring Hike in the Whites. When the trail wasn’t slick granite or sketchy scree, it was unsettling monorail (MovNat refers to these as “contextual demands”). It wasn’t impossible (especially since we train perception walking, balancing counters, and all kinds of step-ups/downs), just messy. I had decent footing and moved mostly steadily uphill with care and confidence. My microspikes were in my pack, but I hadn’t put them on yet…
As I stepped purposefully, eyes shifting from the ground to the terrain ahead, I asked myself: Am I just delaying the inevitable? I could feel that familiar hiker’s stubbornness creeping in – the part that says, “you got this, this is why you train (expletive)!” But a quieter voice kept whispering: Is this going to get better, or are you gambling with your joints (the ones that connect bones in your body 😉)?
The trail never really cleared. In fact, it rained once we hit the summit and made the descent even sketchier. No relief, just a different kind of tricky.
I never put the microspikes on that day, and I didn’t fall, but the question stuck with me beyond the mountain: where’s the line between trusting my ability and testing my luck?
Sometimes, reflection doesn’t come from the summit, it comes from the slick parts in between.
What are your thoughts? Do you throw those spikes on ASAP/JIC, or do you accept the risks and ride it out bare-booty-style?
