Mileage, the Punishing Angel

Over the past decade of backpacking, I’ve rationalized my approach of pushing out more miles per day so that I could go farther and see more. I reckoned that this not only maximized my time in the wild, but it challenged me as well.

On my most recent adventure on the North Country Trail in northern Minnesota, I hiked 165 miles in less than seven full days. My average daily mileage, including spur trails, was over 25 miles a day. My daily average was higher than that when I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail five years ago, and the swagger I had after hiking the PCT lent me the confidence that I could effortlessly continue to do that kind of mileage.

On my fourth day on the North Country Trail, I woke up dreading what needed to be done: Hike nearly 30 miles in less than 12 hours. Get an early start, minimize breaks, push hard and keep my headlamp handy for hiking in the dark at the end of the day. This was no longer fun, it certainly wasn’t relaxing and it made me wonder why the hell I’m using precious PTO and squandering the beautiful fall colors around me by marching incessantly all day. It was hard work, compounded by the warm, humid weather, the late-season mosquitoes and deer ticks, the blisters, the sweat rashes, the poison ivy and the dehydration born from my insistence on not stopping long enough to squeeze more water from the few sources there were.

However, I redeemed myself and cast off the self-imposed shackles of mileage. On my fifth day, I stopped nearly five miles earlier than I had planned. I had chanced upon at a beautiful campsite in a stand of mature red pines on a hill overlooking a serene pond with clear, clean water. I went for a dip in the pond, started a fire and drank the one beer I had brought. The mosquitoes that had plagued me up to this point were nowhere to be found, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself as the sun went down and a warm breeze coursed through camp. Up to this point I had never made a fire when camping alone, and I realized I had been missing out on something important all these years.

I’ve always enjoyed the challenge of putting down miles to achieve the goal of getting to camp in a certain area. I love the adventure of long-distance backpacking, of knowing I have no choice but to continue hiking to my destination. These objectives won’t change, but I no longer have it in me to crank out 25 or more miles day-after-day. I can certainly muster the energy to do a long day if it’s necessary, but when an entire trip demands big miles virtually every day, it’s no longer fun. It’s a slog.

There is more to backpacking than simply making miles and arriving at your destination. If the journey is its own reward, then I had better pay more mind to the journey itself and not the destination.