Why did you suddenly pick up hiking?

The other day I found myself in a conversation with a colleague who asked; “Why did you suddenly pick up hiking?” For which I replied kindly; “You must not know me well enough, I didn’t ‘suddenly’ pick up hiking.”

I was born with a desire, a silent constant calling within me to be outside.

hiking-page_12It was a summer day and school had just gotten out. All my friends were riding their bikes around the neighborhood, playing baseball or constructing elaborate fortresses out of sticks and rocks for their G.I. Joe full size action figure with kung-fu grip. I was in shin deep water that was rushing past me and mud squishing between my toes, a net in one hand and a bucket in the other. Bent over with my reflection glaring back at me for which I paid no attention to, for I had more pressing matters at hand. I was chasing a crayfish that darted under a rock and I was bound to catch him to add to my collection of already captured tadpoles, sunny’s and baby catfish being housed in a fish tank on our back porch.

Later that summer I would explore the endless trails in the woods near our house. In my pre-teen brain and imagination the trails were endless taking me to places of grand adventure. I was a fearless hiker on a mission to see and watch any creature my eyes and hears were alert to, but in reality those woods were small only leading to the other side of our suburban NJ neighborhood. But what did I care, I was in the woods. I’d build grand shelters I read about in my dad’s old boy scout handbook from tree branches and logs and would dream of camping in them for a night. But suburbia NJ woods is no a place for a 12 year old to be spending the night no matter how much I craved it. Instead my parents would allow me to construct shelters from an old large piece of tent canvas, rope, long branches I found in the woods, lawn chairs and some camping gear we had in the garage. There I would invite my friends to camp out for the night staying up all hours. Sure it was in our yard under a tree, just under my parents bedroom so they could keep an ear out for us, but to me it was camping. I was outside having an adventure.

When school started again in September I found myself, along with my brother joining a local Boy Scout Troop. What made it even cooler was my dad also signed up and became one of our troops scout masters. Each week we’d attend our scout troop meetings. I understood we needed to have those meeting, it’s what prepared us for everything we were learning to “be prepared” like tying knots and earning our merit badges, but meetings weren’t my thing. Funny thing is, now I know why meetings were my least favorite thing while I was in youth ministry. I didn’t like them as a kid and I don’t like them now. Yes, they are essential, but sometimes we can spend more time discussing what we want to do or need to do instead of actually doing it. I don’t know about you, but I have found myself staring out the window more then once during a meeting that seems to be going nowhere because no one can agree. But let’s move on…

It was November, cold, a light snow was on the ground and it was our first Boy Scout Camporee. I was loving every minute of it. At night with flashlights in hand we ran, crawled and stealth-fully crept through the woods playing capture the flag. When I went to bed I took a rock from the fire ring wrapped in a damp old towel and laid it at the foot of my sleeping bag. Needless to say, I was warm and toasty. I still remember dinner that night. I thought it was the best meal I had ever eaten, chilli and rice cooked over a fire while sitting on a snow covered log.

Living so close to the Jersey shore most of my friends spent their summers at the beach, not me. Our family vacations since the time I was a toddler consisted of camping. Even later as a teen when my parents bought a simple pop-up trailer I preferred to sleep in my little one man dome tent.

The question from my colleague caused me to reflect back on my childhood and bring back fond memories of being outside and no matter what or where we were going it was always an adventure. Being outdoors is where I belong.

If you’re not content with what you’re doing or who you are. If you’re wrestling inside to the point of it feeling like a battle, a tug of war. Then do yourself a favor and start listening to that small voice whispering to you in the depth of your heart and stop listening to the loud demanding voices ringing in your ears. Because most likely the loud annoying voices are from outside influences getting you to believe you need to follow and conform to what the world and others say you need to be and do in life, while the little whisper inside your heart is trying to get you to see who you are and where you belong.

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