Hike Your Own Hike
A dispatch from a day spent hiking all 30 miles of Portland's Wildwood Trail.
Hello friends!
The first really long walk I ever took was in 2018, when I joined a bunch of people for a hike near Corvallis, Oregon with the movement expert Katy Bowman. We hiked 18 miles, the longest I'd ever walked at the time. That weekend we also got to tour the Softstar shoe factory to learn how minimalist shoes are made. (I was there as a journalist, but I was paying to participate in the workshop.) I went home with a pair of deliciously soft sheepskin-lined slippers that Mojie chewed up about a year later—it was her final act of puppydom.
That 18-mile hike was challenging, but also a lot of fun. I had a 90-minute drive home and I remember arriving home and being barely able to walk from my car to the house—but thrilled I had walked so far. On that hike I learned a few critical things about long walks. One is that you need to take breaks to rest—as well as put your body in different positions that aren't walking. You also need to have rewards along the way. For some long treks, it might be a good view at the top. For nearly all hikes of any length, it's critical to have good food and snacks to anticipate at certain key points on the trail. And finally, while I love solo hikes and they have a decided place in my life, big mileage feels shorter in good company.
Since that first 18-miler, I've been considering hiking the entire length of the Wildwood Trail, a 30-mile path that zigzags through the West Hills of Portland, Oregon. I've walked segments of the whole trail by myself—I even made a short video about how to do it in short chunks, for an explanatory journalism class I took a few years ago. On the winter solstice of 2021, I hiked the first 15 miles of the Wildwood Trail. In 2022, I hiked miles 15-30. (Both hikes were closer to 18 miles total. Both were very cold. Both were very fun!)
This summer, I was determined to do the entire stretch—and I did, yesterday!
Since that first big walk, I've cultivated a few insights about long walks. (Also: I learned a bunch more this month by taking Mountain Training, a backpacking conditioning class three times a week with movement teacher and outdoor enthusiast Kim Alexander.) I thought I'd share what I learned from this most recent adventure.
AVOID UNFORCED ERRORS
For this hike, I brought along my husband, Chris, a packhorse always up for an arbitrary adventure. If you're hiking with someone else or in a group, it's a good idea to have ground rules and expectations about what roles people will have on the hike, what you're willing to carry on the trip, and what your pace will be. (Kim definitely emphasizes this.)
Chris and I worked together the night before the hike to figure out what we needed to bring with us, including how much water...and how many beers. Then, in the first mile of the hike yesterday, we developed three guidelines for the day. I think they hold up well for outdoor group endeavors of all types!
The first rule we established was to do our best to avoid unforced errors—that's a baseball term for when fielders bungle a play. Unforced errors on the trail, like the baseball diamond, are mostly about not paying enough attention. They also happen when you rush yourself or make bad decisions because you are fatigued, hungry, poorly hydrated or you let your ego or your impatience get the better of you. They are errors of preparation, but also of expectation and attention. (This is where a little experience with mindfulness practices might help on a long hike.)
Yes, random stuff will happen that's outside of your control. Which is why trying to avoid unforced errors gives you more energy to manage more realistic emergencies. For example, we thought about what needed to be in our first aid kits in advance. We each had a small one with blister treatment, Advil, fresh socks and bandaids and disinfectant. But we didn't need to carry raincoats or a snakebite kit for yesterday's hike. (We definitely dipped into the Advil.)
A disagreement can be an unforced error. Over the course of the 12-hour day, we did get in one spat about Chris's trekking poles, which I did not think were necessary. I will not detail why here. But we talked it out, which was good for us; we came to a common understanding about why Chris's vision makes them important to have poles with us on all hikes, and why my attitude was unkind and ableist. (Also Chris, if you're reading this, I'm also sorry about drinking all of the iced coffee. I thought you had one in your pack, too.)
Which brings us to our next most important rule...
HIKE YOUR OWN HIKE
I set the pace on our 30-mile hike yesterday, so much so that I joked with Chris at the end that he'd never want to see my ass again. (Ha hah.) I set the pace because I've been training for backpacking this month and Chris is in good shape and will either keep up or gently suggest that we need to speed up. But also, I know the trail well and have completed two long hikes on it before. I see better and can alert Chris to tripping hazards or low-hanging trees.
We'd also agreed while planning the hike that if one of us wanted to go ahead for awhile and hike separately, that was fine. After lunch, from about miles 16-22, we both put in headphones and listened to our respective audiobooks. We'd had plenty of time to chat, and it was a fine way to pass the time.
Early in our hike, a man breezed by us at a fast clip. It looked like he, too, was doing the whole shebang in a day. The Type A part of me wanted to walk a little faster, to prove myself just as quick as him. But the part of me that had agreed to avoid unforced errors also chimed in. We had a long day ahead of us, and the temperature was only going to get warmer. I also knew there was a very steep section in the fourth of five sections, which was when it would be warmest, when we would be the most physically and mentally fatigued, and when we would need to call upon all our reserves.
Which is why even though we were both tracking our progress and keeping an eye on our pace, Chris and I agreed at the beginning of the hike not to worry about how long it took. We had plenty of daylight after all—15 hours and 40 minutes! A dog walker was looking in on Mojie. The hike would take as long as it took, no shorter and no longer. It was not a race. (It took 12.5 hours.)
And we took ample stretch breaks, including one to rest atop a picnic bench on our backs for a few minutes, with our knees bent.
Hiking your own hike means knowing your limits, which can be very different from day to day or month to month. It means stopping to rest and stretch when you need to. And it means realizing that comparing your hike or your ability to someone else's limits or strengths or speed is both boring and fruitless.
IT'S NOT FUN IF IT'S ALL SLOG
This is the "have fun!" rule. Look, even the best hikes involve some slogging. But...why even spend your Saturday on the trail if the whole thing is a slog? A hike needs to have a mixture of Type 1 fun, which is fun DURING the hike, and Type 2 fun, which is fun for having DONE the hike.
A big part of making it fun along the way means planning treats—for this hike that meant a low-alcohol beer at noon, iced coffee and chocolate at 3 p.m. and pizza to look forward to for dinner. Planning and savoring Type 1 fun along a hike makes the Type 2 part of the hike even better. (i.e. "That was so fun!")
I didn't bring my camera on this hike, which is usually a source of fun and joy for me while in the outdoors. I knew it would slow us down if I was constantly on the lookout for photos, and I also wanted to keep my pack to less than 15 pounds for the day. And honestly, I have plenty of pictures of Forest Park. So I put my phone on airplane mode and found other ways to occupy my attention. One of them was paying closer than usual attention to the biomechanics of how I was walking—mindful walking.
One of the expectations we also set at the beginning of the hike was that 30 miles is sort of an arbitrary number and that it may be too much for one day. Because this hike winds through the city, it's pretty easy to bail if you need to; you can get an Uber or a bus home from most trailheads. And that was another of the expectations we set: No judgment about bailing, if that's what needed to happen.
We did not bail. But sometimes you need to ask yourself why you're doing something, especially when it comes to a challenging physical effort. I wanted to do this 30-mile hike because...it's right here in the city and I like long walks! It's the nearest thing to the experience of through-hiking you can access with a TriMet bus pass. I also wanted to challenge myself to a difficult physical endeavor one week before I turn 50.
THE FINAL STRETCH
Oh god, the final six miles were such a slog! I never thought of bailing, but Chris reminded me of what I said at one point during the final bit, when every step felt heavy: "This is what will break me!" Yes, I have a gross blister under the callus on my big toe, but it doesn't hurt and it will heel quickly if I stick to sandals for a few days. And while we are both sore today, the hike did not break either one of us.
Do I need to hike 30 miles in one day again, ever? No, not unless it's an emergency. Both Chris and I decided that 20 miles in one day is more than enough. And 12-15 miles is a real sweet spot of effort, reward and Type 1 and 2 fun. It’s about Mojie’s top limit, too.
But now I know I have it in me to do 30 miles! Which means I can do other hard things that challenge what I think I'm capable of achieving—and not just physical feats.
Isn't that the best outcome of any adventure?
Happy trails!
Erika
P.S. Want to see more details about the hike? I share more in my Instagram stories under a highlight called "Solstice Hike."
THE NEWS
All the links…
For Portlanders who love historical fiction: I’ll be in conversation on Tuesday (7 p.m., June 27) at Powell’s Cedar Hills with novelist Nancy Horan about her new book, The House of Lincoln. It has a magnificent opening line: “Below, the men are eating turtle soup.” Nancy is a former journalist and the author of Loving Frank, a runaway bestseller in 2007. Come say hi! (It’s also a great opportunity to grab a signed copy of Windfall!)
For everyone else, you can now watch my book launch event on C-SPAN’s American History TV! (Good god, I was so nervous. But I’m thrilled it’s out there in the world for people to see.) It finally aired yesterday.
And while you’re at it…check out my updated events page. I have tons of fun Windfall-related events coming up this summer and early fall, including multiple memoir-writing workshops in North Dakota, a late July speaking engagement in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and an October appearance at a book festival in Kansas City. More events to come soon! Fingers crossed for a November event in Washington, D.C.
Also: If you haven’t already left a Goodreads or Amazon review for Windfall, now is the perfect time. Windfall has been out for five months, and your review could help other people discover their next summer read! This link explains why Windfall could use additional—and fresh—reviews at this point in its shelf life. If you have already left a review, thank you!
Kelly DiNardo is an original FOTWD* and I’m so thrilled she has launched a weekly newsletter called The Sunday Stretch. Sign up for it here.
I know there are a few endurance athletes among TWD readers who run marathons or even ultramarathons, and who regularly hike long distances. If that’s something you're interested in, you should definitely subscribe to FOTWD Sarah Lavender Smith's newsletter, which is a fascinating insight into the mind of endurance athletes.
Finally: The long walks of our travel dreams!
*Friend-of-The-Windfall-Dispatch. And if you’re reading this, you’re a FOTWD. Got something you want to share? I’d love to spread the word. Email me at erika@erikabolstad.com.
This was like a fun little show-and-tell course on setting out on a great adventure. Congrats!!
Makes me want to come down and walk 10 miles of it in Nov for my 60th💕
I hadn’t thought about some of the prep/planning you describe; but of course! Love that you did this for your 50th. 🧡💪