Stranger Danger & Blue Truck Guy

I got to thinking about the folks I pass by on the trail and decided to gather some stats.  Two categories were created:  Solitary hikers and those with another person or in a group.  I was pretty confident of the outcome, although keenly interested in the actual numbers to offer as factual data.   For many weeks I kept track of everyone I passed and recorded the findings after each hike.  I sampled many trails, locations and varied the time of day to be as reflective of differences as possible.   Some days I may come across 20 people and others only 4.  As these stats already reveal, I’m never really ‘alone on the trail.’

The most common statements I get from people who resist the invitation to venture onto the trails are as follows:

          I don’t want to hike alone.

          Aren’t you afraid?

          What if something happens?

These comments and questions are perplexing to me.   I most often hike alone or with my dog.  No, I’m not afraid and ‘what if’s’ are deceiving and debilitating.   Fear is lurking behind each of these roadblocks:  being alone is scary, possible danger, unknown circumstances, uncomfortable situations, other people, animals, etc.  Limiting, stifling and designed to prevent new experiences in order to keep us “safe.”   Well-meaning and misguided assumptions can render us isolated and completely stuck in a rut, hesitating to live life to its fullest.  No adventures allowed.  Hence, why I started tracking the statistics.  Was it just me or do most trail seekers go it alone?

The averages were as I suspected:  85% hike or walk alone.  Only 15% of trail goers are accompanied by someone else.   We are, according to my highly scientific research, a solitary bunch.  The chosen aspect of being alone is part of the why?  It’s necessary for the inner and outer benefits I receive.  Another person presents a very distinct dynamic, both in conversation stimulus and adjusted pace.  There is a level of energy required to sync our cadence and engage in conversation by both sharing and listening.  A lovely time and worth every minute, although very different from the stillness of walking in silence.

Over the years I have had many wonderful encounters and a few stories are worth sharing.   Trail people are a unique breed – we enjoy the quiet, embrace the connection to nature and any underlying apprehension is replaced by exhilaration.  We’re generally a very friendly lot and welcome opportunities to greet and share.

Key Guy:  A cloudy, unremarkable day.  Ebony (my prior dog) and I are hiking Poo Poo Point.    With only a scattered few cars this particular morning, we have arrived early and already heading down before the crowds arrive.  Zipping around the corner is a guy and his dogs on their way up.  We say ‘hello’ and he stops to ask a favor. “My wife and daughter are a ways behind me,” he says.  “I’m concerned they won’t want to hike all the way to the top and I have the keys to the car.  Since you’ll be going past them, can you deliver my keys so they can head back to the parking lot if they choose?”  I immediate reply “Sure thing!”  Between us this seems perfectly normal and I’m happy to help them out.   A simple and reasonable request. Taking serious care of my new task, I’m on the lookout.  As I approach to pass by, I ask if her husband and dogs are up ahead to make certain she is the correct wife.  Yes. I relay the message and hand over the keys, relieved to have completed my special duty.   I can see by the quizzical expression on her face this is a bit weird.  You know she had a couple of words with her husband later, “You really gave the keys to our car to a complete stranger?” 

I’ve met future clients on the trail, formed great friendships and exchanged too many smiles and good wishes to count.  The trail instantly connects us – we are kindred and bonded spirts and no one is a stranger.

Push-ups: One time while hiking with my son, I came up with an absolutely brilliant idea.  “Hey,” I proposed, “Let’s do some push-ups on these flatter areas on our way down.”  Not sure I even finished my sentence before he had dropped and done 25.  A great way to get in some extra reps and by the time we got to the car a lot of push-ups had been completed.  Crazy like a fox, or so I thought.

Many months later I’m at my local hot spot with many flat areas.  I dropped to do a few push-ups.  Halfway through my set I heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind.   Upon me before I could jump up and out of the way, a runner stopped to make sure I was OK (since I was on the ground, of course).  “Yes, just trying to sneak in a few push-ups” was my sheepish response.  Certainly he would think I was completely out of my mind.  “Oh, great!’ he replies as he continues running, “I do that all the time, too.” Wait, what?  I didn’t come up with this work-out hack?   It wasn’t my brilliant idea?  I was slightly sideways at this news.  Nope, not just me.  Yet another shared link that bonds us together in our creative ways to enjoy the outdoors.

Lost: My purpose is not, exactly, to get lost.   I do love to explore an unfamiliar trail and often venture down a new path to ‘see where it goes’.  A beautiful sunny day and many fellow wanderers are out and about.  I travel down a new trail and get a bit turned around.  It’s not leading where I had originally thought, which is perfectly OK.   I come across another lady (yes, by herself) and we say “hello”.  I ask if she knows where this trail goes, as I’m not quite sure where I am.  She laughs and says she was going to ask me the same thing.  We crack up and I am struck by the instant relationship we just formed.  Two ladies out hiking with no idea where we’re going.   Again, I’m never the only one.

What happens on the trail does not stay on the trail.  It interferes, merges and weaves into my life in the best way imaginable.  I am pushed, guided, challenged and reminded of our unity at every encounter.  

Blue Truck: About 30 minutes from me is a very popular and steep trail head.  Due to the usual crowds, very narrow path and intense ascent, Jazzy is best left at home.   She is a very big girl with lots of black fur and gets overheated easily.  Today is for quiet and reflection.  Up the front side, down the backside and then reverse.  A good leg and cardio workout.  Almost to the end I see an older, white haired gentleman just beginning.  I recognize him instantly: Blue Truck Guy.  Internally I laugh, as almost every time I hike this trail, his truck is also in the lot.  Does he climb every day?  Multiple times per day?  Just a chance encounter that our schedules collide?  He never says hello or even acknowledges I’m here.  Extremely solitary and focused and that is his preference.  Much respect and I marvel at the coincidence, since I’m not at this mountain very often.  He is a fellow hiker.  The Blue Truck Guy.  Committed, extremely consistent and even though we've never exchanged a word, certainly not a stranger.