Stumbling Toward Ecstasy

Those first steps in that 1,000-mile journey might lead to stumbles, but if we learn and accumulate the tools we need along the way, we'll arrive at somewhere special.

People like to quote Lao-Tzu and tell us that, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." Inspiring words to be sure. The quote leaves out the fact that we tend to wobble, stagger, and even fall in our first steps, but that's okay because we can recover and find what we need to walk steadily toward our destination.

My first real hiking trip two years ago brought a few setbacks. In 2015, I decided to take up hiking. I'd spent a lot of time outdoors before that, fishing and exploring nature, but I hadn't formally committed to hiking. That July, I hiked the Skyline Loop Trail at Mount Rainier National Park. The mountain held a special place in my heart because I grew up with it in the distance, so it made sense to take my first hiking steps there. For the most part, the experience met my expectations, but crossing a snowy section on the trail activated my fear of heights, and I left with a sunburn on a spot I'd missed with sunscreen.

Even though the snowy heights and the sunburn didn't ruin the hike, they stuck with me as challenges to overcome. To address the latter, I bought a UV-protective pullover from Patagonia to go along with the UV-protective Patagonia shorts I already had. I also purchased a pair of Merrell Capra Sport hiking shoes to replace the jogging shoes I'd worn to Mount Rainier, a pair of REI hiking socks, and a Patagonia backpack, the latter of which I blogged about last year. It was time to get serious about the steps I wanted to take, but I still didn't know how to deal with the issue of heights. After all, having a fear of heights and a desire to hike in the mountains presents a substantial dilemma.

Some of the gear that has improved my hiking.

Last year, my phobia triggered another stumble. On a hike at Mount St. Helens, I had to turn back because walking the side of Johnston Ridge bothered me too much. The trail was far from treacherous, and the heights I encountered should not have overwhelmed me. Upset at myself for having to end the hike for no good reason, I resolved to fix the problem. One of my cousins suggested the idea of using trekking polls, so this spring, I bought a pair of Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z trekking polls from REI. The REI purchase also included a second pair of hiking socks (this one from Darn Tough) because I like to double up on socks and a pair of UV-protective gloves from Outdoor Research.

Following the spring shopping, I felt ready to take my next steps in the hiking adventure. Those steps brought the kind of exhilaration and satisfaction I had hope for from the beginning. First, I hiked in the Mount Adams Wilderness, an experience I blogged about last month. As I wrote at the time, the trekking polls helped make the hike a nearly perfect outing. They gave me extra stability and allowed me to focus on the simple task of taking the next step instead of imagining unlikely pitfalls. Even on snowy terrain similar to that at Mount Rainier in 2015, I felt relaxed and in control. Meanwhile, the light, UV-protective clothes and gloves kept me cool and protected from the bright sun, and the gloves held up to the challenge of gripping the trekking polls. Ecstatic about the hike, especially with the performance of the trekking polls, I knew my new tools had already paid for themselves, and for the first time, I felt completely at home in hiking.

Besides providing the desired control, the trekking polls yielded another major benefit. As with my backpack last year, the polls helped better distribute the strain of hiking. Rather than having my legs do all the work, I used the polls to climb and cushion against the impact of sloping terrain. Consequently, I could enjoy the whole trip more and feel better about it in the end. After noticing the difference on the Mount Adams hike, I appreciated it even more a week later when I returned to Mount Rainier for a 12-mile hike from Longmire to the Reflection Lakes. Despite the distance, my legs felt better than they had following the 2015 Mount Rainier hike.

We can complete our journey a step at a time, but if that journey also includes growth and some accumulation of equipment for living (as Kenneth Burke would say), the destination will elate us.

Headed in the Right Direction

Anthropologist Elizabeth Kapu'uwailani Lindsey once said, "True navigation begins in the human heart. It's the most important map of all." Compass Outdoors, a new outdoor gear and apparel company based in Washington state, embodies those words.

Before going any further, in the interest of full disclosure, I know one of the company's co-founders.

Following in the footsteps of companies like Patagonia and Klean Kanteen, Compass Outdoors places environmental ethics at its heart. The company logo, which consists of a compass pointing toward the Pacific Northwest's iconic Mount Rainier, gives the sense that Compass Outdoors knows what's important to it and where it's going. Looking more closely, the company has the stated objective of, "Using business to help create awareness and support for environmental issues." Such ethics influence the business model as well with five percent of each purchase going to support the national parks.

The launch of the company Web site last Wednesday marked the first step in Compass Outdoors' journey toward its core vision. The initial offering of six products, including an insulated bottle, a shirt, and hats will soon expand with additional items. To see the current selection, click here.

Compass Outdoors also plans to pursue a better environment by carving a path beyond simply selling products. Its Web site will expand in the future with a companion blog that spotlights environmental issues by featuring individuals working to address those concerns. Such issues did put the company on its path after all.

Knowing what Compass Outdoors set out to achieve and the reasons at the heart of that objective makes me excited to see where the company goes. It's clear they have a good navigation system.

For $30 More

My new backpack with its valuable front straps.

A little extra money can go a long way, especially on a hike.

Earlier this year, I broke down and decided to buy a new backpack. I loved my old one, but its zippers were stripping, and the padding was crumbling away. Since I use my backpack nearly every day (either for my walk to work, a trip, or a hike), I definitely needed a good replacement that had versatility.

To make the purchase as environmentally friendly as an act of consumerism can be, my first instinct was to turn to Patagonia, the California-based maker of outdoor apparel that emphasizes environmental stewardship. Sure enough, I found a selection of backpacks made from recycled pop bottles. That made me feel better about making the purchase, but it wasn't the last good feeling I received from buying the backpack.

Considering Patagonia's sizable selection of backpacks, I had some choices to make. The choice I ultimately made taught be a good lesson. After narrowing the selection down to two possibilities, both of which provided great versatility, the final issue I had to resolve was one of price. One of the backpacks seemed like a great bargain at $89, and it came with everything I had been looking for. However, it lacked the straps that fasten in the front to secure the pack around the body. The other option, Patagonia's Jalama 28L, featured those straps but cost $30 more than its counterpart. After some deliberation, I decided the extra money might be worth it.

The first time I put my money to the test, I knew I'd made the right choice. I immediately threw my new backpack into action for a nine-mile hike at Mount St. Helens, and it exceeded all my expectations. With the straps taking pressure off my neck, shoulders, and back by securing the pack to my torso, I felt lighter and kept my legs fresh. With my old pack, which lacked the straps, I would end long hikes with heavy legs, so I was surprised by the feeling of having fresh legs after the Mount St. Helens hike. Subsequent hikes produced the same happy results, and I thanked myself for the extra $30 I had spent.

I may have paid a bit more for my new backpack, but the changes it has brought to my hiking are priceless.

Cause and Possibility

We're told to think big. We have a lot of practice thinking about now. However, we need to work on thinking long--as in long-term. DamNation, a documentary about dams, shows us how and gives us a sense of what is possible when we do. Check out the trailer for the film below:



Many people who study communication or engage in communication as a profession are interested in effects. They want to know what effect a piece of communication has caused or will cause. Such an approach to communication yields a lot of great information, particularly about the now and the short-term. The problem is that it tends to miss some of the bigger, long-term picture. Environmental advocates often despair over a campaign not generating immediate results, yet failing to produce an immediate effect does not mean an act of communication cannot have an impact. That's because not all reactions are produced right away. Sometimes, communication is about opening up possibilities for the future.

Rhetoric provides an opportunity to probe beyond direct and immediate effects. As DamNation, which is presented by clothing manufacturer Patagonia, beautifully demonstrates, the apparent initial failure of some communication isn't the end of the story. Rhetorical symbols like cracks painted on dams were seen as radical, fringe ideas in the 1990s. However, that symbolic act created a foothold for an idea (removing dams) that is becoming more mainstream--to the point that people are embracing and putting their own stamp on the activist art. Now, it's the dams and their environmental impacts that are questioned.

DamNation also reminds us that environmental issues are big and require long-term thinking as well. We created dams to address immediate needs but failed to consider the larger repercussions. That failure led to major problems. Clearly, we can't address the environment only in the short-term, and we shouldn't look at communication that way either.

Thinking big got us dams. Thinking now makes us miss so much. And thinking long has major possibilities.

Wrapped up in a Coat

My Christmas wish list is usually more like a general need list.

Actually, this is kind of a family trait. We usually put on out lists things that we would ordinarily buy for ourselves but just happen to need around the holidays. Sometimes, if no pressing need arises, we will just ask for money.

That's why I liked this article from TreeHugger about Patagonia. Patagonia is a company that specializes in making outdoor clothing, and it does so while placing an emphasis on protecting the environment. It's an extraordinary company, and through its Common Threads Initiative, it is challenging people to buy only what they need and to try to repair what they have before replacing it.

As it turns out, what I need this year is a new coat. My last one finally gave out after nearly twelve years of constant wear (it even made two trips to Europe with me). When the need came up, I was glad to be already aware of Patagonia. I knew I wanted my next coat to be from an environmentally conscientious company, and I also knew it would be my Christmas present this year.

For more information about Patagonia, visit its Web site. Be sure to read about its environmental practices.