Fall Sunday: Why We Hike

05 Oct Fall Sunday: Why We Hike

The bride-to-be celebrates with friends after the hike.

I was texting my friends furiously this week. I had a few spare hours, and hadn’t spent any quality time with friends lately—and there was a window of gorgeous fall weather. Meet me at the top of Oak. Dropping off kids. Hike Owl Gulch?

Some kinds of multi-tasking leave you scattered, unable to focus on any of the things you are trying to accomplish simultaneously. But exercising while you are catching up with friends works in concert perfectly. There is a certain harmony to it, breathing heavily while you walk up the mountain trails, trading turns talking, gossiping, sharing stories, and catching your breath while you listen. Escaping from computers and cars, maybe even shutting off your phone for a few hours, and spending some time outdoors with friends is good for the soul.

Hiking is the best therapy there is, says my mother-in-law, and she should know—she is the author of Telluride Hiking Guide and a counselor. And it’s true. I have hiked through so many of my problems. I have left the scars of my most heart-wrenching breakups and losses on the trails around Telluride. Walking up the steep mountainsides can dissolve your frustration and anger in a healthy way, and it always leaves you feeling better.

But hiking is also a great way to celebrate the good things in life. Especially with friends, sharing happy secrets or good news. There is a certain intimacy to the conversations you have on a hike, being able to say things out loud, without glancing around the coffee shop to see if anyone’s listening. A couple of weeks ago, I hiked with a group of women for a friend’s bachelorette party. It was the perfect setting for some fun conversations, from deeply personal pre-wedding advice to less serious girl talk. There was a beautiful place to stop, amid the aspen leaves starting to turn to gold, a quiet place to circle round and breathe in the forest smells and talk with everyone at the same time. One of the women, who is going to officiate the wedding, gave a simple speech. It was the equinox, she noted, the time of year when light and dark are in balance, a metaphor for marriage and relationships. There will be good and bad times, celebration and loss, harmony and discord. I remembered the vows uttered by two of my friends at their wedding: For richer or poorer, in good times and bad, in good snow years and in bad snow years.

It seems nature is always giving us these subtle cues about life. The trails around Telluride are an especially poignant place for me, all the tears I’ve shed while hiking as well as all of the joyous times, the uphill and the downhill, tromping through snow or shedding layers in the warm sun. The meandering hikes are a lot like life, moving forward through the good and the bad, and the journey is always better in the company of friends.