By: Stephanie Reynolds
Even professionals make dumb choices sometimes. Even professionals think, “Eh, I got this; this is easy.” We all let ego and self-consciousness get in our way.
In my last article, I recounted the tale of my, ahem, temporary misplacement. Now people get lost. I remember when grocery stores stopped saying over the intercom, “We have a lost child,” and instead started saying, “We have a lost parent,” so the child didn’t get scared. Brilliant.
In the grocery store or in the mall, you can get lost and be safe. However, on the trail, the stakes are a little higher. You really aren’t likely to get caught in a sudden snowstorm in Macy’s. You probably aren’t going to twist an ankle in Buckle. If you get attacked by a bear in Publix, we all have bigger fish to fry.
But on the trail, you have stepped into nature — something that is determined to do its own thing regardless of our confidence in our “mad trail skills.”
We can all let our egos, gambling nature, impatience, or embarrassment take over. It sounds an awful lot like: “Eh, I got this,” or “Probably nothing will go wrong,” or “People are going to laugh if they see me going on this little trail with a bunch of gear.” And you are right, they might laugh! But they won’t be laughing when the rain starts falling and the temps drop and they are shivering and you are happy, warm, and eating delicious trail snacks, right?
I remember reading a meme a few years ago from a guy making fun of a couple going up a trail with full gear. He said, “My five-year-old went up this trail in Crocs and holding a naked Barbie,” as if to indicate that walking the trail was as predictable and tame as walking in Dollar General.
When I first read that, I initially thought he might be on to something, though unnecessarily snarky. Was the couple was thinking that the “Crocs and naked Barbie” molehill was a mountain? Was I just like that couple with all my gear? We usually go on the Richard Martin Trail which is straight, well-traveled, has houses close enough to run to for help. What do people think seeing us in full array going essentially for a walk in the park?
But what happened the ONE time when I didn’t check my ego and explored an unknown trail alone and without anything but a cell phone? I got lost. It turned out to be a non-event, quickly resolved, but it could have been bad.
What happened when I carried my pack on that well-worn, well-used trail that we know by heart, down to rock and fallen tree? More than once we have dug in my pack past the mass of Haribo gummy bears for other necessities: a spare pair of socks for someone getting blisters on the back of the heel, a saw and heavy work gloves to remove trees from the path, bug spray, emergency water, hand warmers, a poncho, a baggie to protect a fellow hiker’s cell phone from the rain. We even came across someone badly injured on the trail once, and I had gear for them.
What Mr. Snarky McMemeguy also didn’t consider was training. A decent hiker/runner/biker knows you never go into a race or expedition without having tested your socks, shoes, pack, nutrition, hydration, and kit on a trail you know well. Boots act differently on your feet when you add 20# of gear to your
back. You don’t want to find out 2 days into a 5-day trek that you forgot to bring a second way to light fires. And you really don’t want to deal with lower digestive distress from the new gels you decided to try when you are halfway down the Tennessee River in a kayak.
So even if you go on a local town trail you know by heart, take some gear. At a minimum, take water, a first aid kit, and at least one way to signal someone (besides your cell phone), like a whistle.
If someone laughingly asks why you are carrying so much stuff, look them straight in the eye and calmly say, “Training. I’m considering the Appalachian Trail.” Then let that idea sink into your own mind. You’re a hiker now, and the entire planet is ready for you to explore.
By: Stephanie Reynolds
Athens-Limestone Tourism Association
April 18, 2025
